Chapter Forty-Two Lucky
Chapter Forty-Two
Lucky
The fear that Emilie would tell the captain stayed at the back of my mind, insistent, and had the effect of cooling my ardor. Which meant I was much more careful with Hunter and didn’t let things go too far.
Even though we both really, really wanted them to.
Adding to my anxiety was the fact that our new charter was the absolute worst. The primary guest was a man named Myron in his late fifties / early sixties. He had brought his girlfriend with him, a woman named Amber, who we guessed was nineteen or twenty years old.
He was involved in some kind of cryptocurrency/techno type of company and had brought along his top four twentysomething employees to reward them for their hard work. Their ringleader Brock, Brad, Chaz, and Lance—each one of them jerkier than the last.
Francois had contemptuously referred to them as “nouveau riche” right after they arrived, and for the first time ever, I heartily agreed with him. In our line of work, there was a definite divide between people who had grown up with money and those who had more recently acquired it.
Old money treated the crew with courtesy and respect. Like we were humans. New money treated us like we were peons at their constant beck and call, degraded us, and generally didn’t care how they acted. Like Brock decided their complicated drinks should never go below half-full. I spent almost the whole day getting them fresh drinks, wasting an unbelievable amount of time and alcohol.
It was theirs to waste—they would have to pay for all of it—but I hated pouring money down the sink.
They behaved like it was our privilege to serve them. As if we should be the ones paying them for the honor of being in their presence.
Even Hunter, who was not a complainer, had told me how much the guests were personally annoying him.
“They want the slide out and they use it for ten minutes and then they’re done. Thomas actually timed how long they use it because we’re all so sick of it. Do you know how long it takes to set up and take down that stupid thing? Hours. I know that it’s my job, but use it for more than ten minutes!”
The guests also enjoyed bringing “paid friends” on board. I figured it wasn’t my responsibility to worry about what international laws were or were not being broken when that happened, but I was pretty tired of cleaning up the disgusting mess after they were done.
The only thing worse than the men and their unrelenting demands was Amber. She was terrible but I supposed I would be, too, if I were dating a man old enough to be my grandfather. She had a Pomeranian named Bisou, who was also the absolute worst. That little yappy menace peed and pooped all over the ship. I kept telling myself that at least it wasn’t cat urine. Nobody had ever trained the dog and she was the most ill-behaved animal I’d ever seen.
“That’s not a dog,” Hunter said as Bisou snapped at his ankles. “It’s a demon in dog’s fur.”
I was inclined to agree.
The second night at dinner, Amber came out in a red, furry couture dress that had me wondering how many Elmos had been killed to make it. I got the guests all seated and went back down to the galley to wait for Andre to finish up the first course.
He was already aggravated for several reasons, which included the fact that Bisou had stolen the fish he had put out for dinner, the guests had required gluten-free and paleo food, and the primary guest, Myron, had said to “surprise” him for dinner.
“Surprise me” was basically a code phrase for “make what I normally eat but plate it to look different.” Which meant that Andre was going to have to try to figure it out on his own with no guidance from Myron.
“Lucky, your favorite guest is having a fit,” Thomas called out, observing the monitors.
“What now?” I asked, exasperated. “Is she not having any success luring children into her gingerbread house?”
“Don’t know. She’s melting down so much that some teenager is going to have to warn the United Nations about it.”
“I’d offer to go up and slap some sense into her,” Georgia interjected, “but I don’t want to get gold digger on my hands.”
I couldn’t even encourage her to be nice, especially when I wasn’t being nice myself. Amber had been upset about everything, and she berated me and my staff constantly.
“You’re not going to tell me to behave?” Georgia asked me, clearly surprised.
“How can I? I’m not saying I hate her, but if she was on fire, I’d grab some marshmallows.”
“It would be very bad if she was on fire and somebody had to put her out. Her kind melts when they get wet,” she said with a nod. “That girl is living proof that money can’t buy happiness.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet it makes misery a lot easier to deal with,” Thomas said, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
With a deep sigh I went up to see what Her Royal Suckiness wanted now.
Amber had pulled linens off the table, sending thousands of dollars’ worth of china and crystal onto the floor. Myron was on his phone, ignoring his girlfriend’s outburst. The other men, whom Georgia referred to as the Ambassadors of Audacity, were across the room, laughing while they watched the scene play out.
Such a mess. I made a wish that Amber would have to walk on a carpet of Legos barefoot for a month. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Clean this mess up!” She flounced into the main salon and sat down on one of the couches.
I retrieved a dustpan and brush and began carefully sweeping up broken glass. Brock wandered over, followed by his fellow cretins.
“Lucky, have I ever told you how much I like your uniform?” He leered at me and I was suddenly aware of how short it was. He added, “I’d like it even better on my bedroom floor.”
Ew, ew, ew. I knew that I should say nothing because any verbal interaction might be seen as encouraging this kind of behavior. I continued to clean.
But he kept going. “So are you free tonight or are you going to cost me?”
His buddies laughed at that one and I tried to let their words go in one ear and out the other.
“It looks like you’re really on top of things,” he continued. “Can I be one of the things you’re on top of?”
Brock’s goons laughed again. I glanced over at Myron, wondering if he was going to do something about his employees, but he was glued to his phone.
I wasn’t a psychic, but my guess was that they were going to have a big lawsuit at some point in the future.
“Where’s that sexy Georgia?” one of them asked. “I bet she’ll play with us.”
Had they taken a special seminar on being gross? Brock came closer to me and leaned down, putting his hand on my shoulder. I wanted to tell him to act like his hairline and take a step back.
Hunter walked into the room, looking furious. He glowered from the doorway and it had the effect of making the other men go quiet. Brock immediately moved away from me.
“I’ll be back with the broom,” I said as I stood up. “Everyone please stay clear of this area.”
I took Hunter by the arm and led him out of the room. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked in a sharp tone when we were out of earshot of the guests.
“That guy was touching you.”
“I’m aware. You can’t come in and intimidate the guests. Not when we’re depending on their tip. I can take care of myself.”
I’d never seen Hunter looking so angry while also being overprotective. And honestly? It was kind of sexy. “I know you can.”
“And if those slimeballs go to the captain, and they’re absolutely the type that would, complaining that you were being threatening toward them? He could fire you.” I couldn’t let that happen. I would miss him and I wanted him to fulfill his dreams and he had to keep this job to do so. “You have to remember that the customer is always right.”
“Even when they’re sexually harassing you? That is not okay.”
“No, it’s not. But it happens.”
He stepped closer to me and, in the calmest, most rational voice, said, “If he puts his hands on you again, I’m going to choke him out.”
Yep, definitely sexy. “No, you’re not. That’s felonious assault.”
“We’re on the ocean.” He shrugged.
“Close to the shore, so Italy’s laws apply.” We were on our way to Portofino.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and growled. “This is going to be my supervillain origin story.”
I glanced around, and when I’d made sure that we were alone, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “You can’t show your parents you’re being a responsible, hardworking adult if you kill one of their charter guests.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh and kissed me quickly. “Fine. I’ll be reasonable. But if that Brock guy touches you again, all bets are off.”
“I kind of like your Neanderthal ways,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Wait until I drag you back to my cave,” he said, making me forget that we were supposed to be working.
I leaned in, intending to kiss him for real, when I heard the sound of someone approaching. We quickly released one another and Emilie came up the stairs.
“There you are,” she said. “I’m sick.”
She looked fine. “Do you need to see the doctor?”
“No. I don’t think I’ll be able to work tomorrow.”
With these guests we definitely needed all hands on deck. “Can’t you take some medicine? We really need your help.” As little as it actually was.
“No.” Then she left without another word.
It was like we were playing a game of chicken to see who would crack first. That was it. I had to tell her uncle what she had been doing. Or, more accurately, not been doing.
As soon as this charter was over, I would go to him and say that Emilie needed to be let go. Enough was enough.
If she tried to swipe back at me by telling him about Hunter, well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
“She’s sick?” Hunter asked, sounding as incredulous as I felt.
“Allergic to work, most likely,” I said. “I can’t be shorthanded with this bunch.”
“I’ll help you,” he said. “I’ll fill in for her.”
“You will?”
He nodded. “I’ll ask Thomas if it’s okay and then I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”
Another spike of want. “Anything?”
His expression was hungry and intense. I was already burning up for him and he wasn’t even touching me. “I would say I’m looking forward to working under you but I don’t want to sound like those scumbags in there.”
“It’s okay if you say it,” I whispered, and that intensity in his eyes somehow increased.
“Lucky ...” All the frustration and yearning we both felt was encapsulated in the way he said my name.
“Soon,” I told him.
It wasn’t fair to say because “soon” was so far off. After this charter he and I would sit down and figure things out. We couldn’t keep going like this.
Something had to give.