Chapter One
TWO YEARS LATER
POST-PRODUCTION CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
EMBER REED: CHIEF STEW
PRODUCER
Alright, Ember. Ready to get started?
EMBER
As ready as I’ll be.
PRODUCER
You can relax. We promise — nothing to be nervous about.
Ember laughs softly.
EMBER
If you say so.
PRODUCER
We have the talking heads footage we captured on the boat, but now that you don’t have guests to tend to, we hope to dig a little deeper.
We’re just going to go through and remind you of some of the things that happened this season, get your reaction and thoughts.
These interviews will help tell the audience what you were feeling in that moment.
You can start over as many times as you need to, and we just ask that you answer the question in a complete statement.
For example, “I was upset when the guests didn’t tip us well, considering the hell they put us through. ” Make sense?
Ember gives a thumbs up.
PRODUCER
Great. To start, we’ll just have you tell us who you are, your experience in yachting, and what you wanted when you agreed to this season — any goals you had. And just look at us when you answer, not the camera.
EMBER
I’m Ember Reed. I—
PRODUCER
Big smile! Remember, this is going to be the viewers’ first impression of you.
Ember pauses, drinks water, resettles in with a beaming smile.
EMBER
I’m Ember Reed. I’m twenty-six years old and I’m from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I’ve been a yacht stewardess for four years now and this is my first time as chief stew.
PRODUCER
Why don’t you elaborate on that, tell us how excited you are.
Ember’s smile wanes. She drinks water, exhales, smiles again.
EMBER
Being chief stew has been my dream for years. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for; so, when Captain Gary called me up and offered me the gig, I was over the moon. I’m so excited to finally show I have what it takes to run an interior team.
PRODUCER
And what’s the main role of chief stew? Why are you so excited to have this opportunity?
EMBER
Working as a second and third stew for years now, I know everything it takes to make the interior team sparkle.
It’s not just serving the guests; though, that is the number one priority.
It’s laundry and cabins; it’s table décor and pulling off perfectly themed parties; it’s booking local dancers for entertainment.
There’s so much that goes into every second a guest is on board.
The goal is to make them feel like it’s a six-star experience without them even noticing how hard we have to work to make that happen. As for why I want this opportunity…
Ember shrugs.
EMBER
This is my chance to prove myself and open doors to the career I’ve always wanted.
PRODUCER
Prove yourself to who… your father, perhaps?
Ember pauses, nods.
EMBER
Sure, that’s always been a goal of mine.
But it’s about proving to myself that I can do this, too.
When you’re chief stew, you’re the boss.
I want to manage a team. I want to create the best guest experiences this show has ever seen.
And, in the end, I want to use this experience to get me where I want to be — a purser on a private yacht.
PRODUCER
Wonderful, Ember. Okay… let’s jump into the first episode.
EMBER
Let’s do it.
PRODUCER
What were you feeling as you walked up to Sinking Sun for the first time?
EMBER
When I see Sinking Sun for the first time, all I can think is how excited I am.
There’s something so exhilarating about the start of a new season — all fresh with possibilities.
The sun is shining, the breeze is cool and pleasant, and I have eight weeks of fun to look forward to.
I mean… we’re in freaking Italy. It’s gorgeous here.
I know it’ll be hard work, sure — but yachting is a blast. It’s why I chose it as my career. Well, that and the money, of course.
PRODUCER
How did it feel to be reconnected with Captain Gary?
EMBER
Walking onto the boat and finding Captain Gary in the bridge makes my heart soar.
He’s by far my favorite captain I’ve worked with.
He’s just so goofy and fun while also being stern enough to run a tight ship.
I’m ecstatic to show him my chops as chief stew.
This is my opportunity to solidify my new role, and I’m ready to take it.
PRODUCER
And how did you feel when Finn showed up?
Ember swallows, drinks water, smiles weakly.
EMBER
I don’t suppose there’s a next question option.
PRODUCER
Take your time.
EMBER
I never thought I’d see Finn Pearson again.
Long pause. Ember shifts in her chair, stares at shoes, lifts gaze back to producer.
EMBER
And I think we all know how I felt about it, don’t you?
It was the worst-timed wedgie of my life.
Not only was it as hot as Satan’s armpit, making sweat slide down my spine and into that lovely place where my underwear had decided to get real cozy with my backside, but I was also surrounded by cameras.
Therefore, there was no picking of this wedgie. I had no choice but to plaster on a smile and endure it.
One camera captured my profile at a distance, the man holding the behemoth of equipment following my every step.
Another was down the dock at the foot of the gangway that led to the yacht I’d call home for the next eight weeks.
Even though that lens was twenty yards away at the moment, I knew it was zoomed in, knew it was likely capturing every bead of sweat collecting at my hairline.
This was Close Quarters, after all — a reality TV show about the people just crazy enough to work the long, manic hours required to run charter yachts.
I’d heard of the show before they asked me to be on it, but I’d never watched a single episode — partly because I didn’t really have time to watch television, and partly because I had a feeling it would piss me off at the way it misrepresented my career.
But before I would agree to their offer, I knew I needed to watch at least one season of the show.
And that was all it took for me to know I was right.
The yachting seasons they showed on Close Quarters were shorter than what a crew would usually work, and each member was hand-picked by producers with the intention of stirring the pot once everyone was on board.
It was common for the stars of the show to have worked together in the past, to have some previous drama from other seasons, or to be the complete opposite of one another in a way that would drive them mad.
There were stewardesses with zero experience, green deck hands who did more damage than assisting when docking, and chefs with tempers and a short fuse.
These people typically had three things in common: they were young, hot, and willing to play right into the hands of whatever producer was pulling their puppet strings.
It was all drama, from the guests who came on board to the crew nights out — which, I knew now that I’d signed a contract, were a requirement. You had to go out if you agreed to be on this show, whether you wanted to or not. The only exception was if you were ill.
So, yeah — I knew that lens was zoomed in on me.
And I swore I felt the breeze whispering to me that I’d made a mistake.
I smiled wide despite that feeling, shaking it off and squinting even through the dark frames of my sunglasses as I took in the impossibly blue water of the Gulf of Naples.
There was nothing like this feeling, the possibility and excitement of a new season in a beautiful part of the world most were never lucky enough to see in real life.
Even with the unfamiliarity of the show aspect, I was still thrilled.
Nine charters of hard work lay ahead of me — but those weeks would also be the kind of chaotic fun that only comes with living the life of a yachtie.
We worked around the clock, catering to charter guests who paid six figures for just a few days on our boat. From the moment they stepped on board, we tended to their every need, giving them a luxury vacation experience while also keeping the boat pristine and functional.
The days were long, the nights never-ending, and yet we still found the energy to party whenever we had a day off.
I was born for it.
My father would hate to hear me say that. He was never afraid to let me know when he hated a choice I’d made, either. I knew all those years he pushed me to perfection, he imagined me becoming a doctor or engineer or lawyer or hedge fund manager.
The last thing he expected was for me to long to travel the world, to work in hospitality, to wait on other people the way we always had people waiting on our family when we vacationed.
He didn’t understand this lifestyle I’d chosen. I knew he wasn’t proud.
But this felt like my chance to show him why he should be.
I wondered if my mother had talked to him at all, if she’d tried to make him see the value in my career choice. I’d wager not, if I were a betting woman. My mom was kind and loving, the kind of nurturer any kid would be lucky to grow up with.
But she was also passive and agreeable to any and everything my father said.
At least, at the end of the day, I knew I could count on her to be waiting with a hug and some words of encouragement instead of a lecture.
I walked along a line of beautiful boats until I was looking up at the Sinking Sun — fifty-five meters of floating luxury.
And the first superyacht I’d be running as chief stew.
Excitement fluttered through me like a thousand freshly hatched butterflies, and I did my best to do as the producers had told me and ignore the cameras — and my wedgie — as I kicked off my sandals and carefully carried my suitcase across the passerelle.
It felt like coming home each time my bare feet hit the teak wood of a superyacht. And yet, as familiar as it was, this season was entirely different.