Chapter 44
The Party
As Billy maneuvered the tender to the side of the boat where a ladder dangled into the water, his heart skipped in his chest. The Sea Witch was a thirty-eight-foot Bali Catsmart, which made it one of the most luxurious and comfortable sailboats in the world, and Billy knew it was stocked with more booze and a better sound system than every bar on Pelican Island.
Nothing was better than waking up on that boat, when the sun rose over the water, and the whole sky looked like one of those paintings he saw in Musée d’Orsay when his family went to Paris last winter.
Some of his fondest memories took place aboard the ship, like when they sailed to Bermuda last June or when they took it up to Martha’s Vineyard and stayed at his grandparents’ estate for the entire month of August. His dad always talked about taking a trip, just the two of them, up to Canada to go oyster farming.
Maybe next summer, they’d finally do it.
Billy tied up the tender and swung his leg up onto the ladder, climbing aboard with ease. He made his way to the bar cart, splashed whatever was in the crystal decanter into a glass, and chugged half of it in one swig. The liquor burned, but Billy didn’t care. He already felt better.
Soon he would cross the flybridge, go downstairs to one of the cabins and pass out face-first on the bed, only waking when the sun peeked through the porthole. But for now, Billy sprawled out on one of the couches, the cushions damp with sea spray.
He was so peaceful here. So utterly—
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Billy sat up but he did so too quickly and thought he was looking at the person in front of him through a kaleidoscope, four versions of them moving in sync with one another. It was only when he blinked that he realized he was looking right at only one person. His father.