“Gosh the sunset’s just gorgeous isn’t she?”
Peter could hear a New England accent somewhere off his right shoulder. Bobby, he assumed. The voice didn’t really have that deep, masculine resonance his older brother’s did. See, Jacks voice would’ve made his head turn before he could even realize it. He wasn’t going to bother with anyone who wasn’t the man himself.
Peter gazed out at the sky uninterestingly, absent-mindedly swirling the glass in his hand. The sky was still fairly bright. He’d give it about thirty minutes to a proper orangey gold sunset.
He turned to the far more interesting site in front of him. Jack Kennedy’s handsome, angular face. He was wearing black shades, which Peter thought did wonders for him. From what he could gather, Jack seemed to be ordering them to steer the boat back to shore. He was gesturing with his hands as he spoke, and that fur collared dark bomber jacket hugged his broad shoulders, he seemed such a natural born leader.
Peter had seen his fair share of men in suits, standing with their hands on their hips, shoving their faces into his personal space, trying to make themselves bigger than they actually were. They always reminded him of pathetic little dogs barking and growling, trying to prove something.
But jack- Jack was the exact opposite. He just radiated- well Peter didn’t know exactly what it was, he just felt so drawn to him. All the suits certainly felt it too, he saw them, all of them , the interns, the advisers, the senators. And the women, how could he forget the women? The shriekers, squealers, fan girls on the streets, the Hollywood Starlettes that threw themselves on him, hell, the women married to his colleagues.
Jack Kennedy was going places. Peter knew that much. He’d sensed it, felt it, the urge to bow over and kneel before him the very first time they met. More importantly, he knew a many great men had felt it too. He was charismatic, magnetic…
Peter had made it this far. From working out under the hot sun, fixing old fishermen’s boats, he’d made it onto Cape Cod, just a few miles away from the dazzling blue Victoria.
He was going to make it onto that boat. He was going to make it onto Kennedy’s yacht no matter what it took.