Chapter Nine
CHARTER CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
GISELLA DíAZ: DECKHAND/STEWARDESS
PRODUCER
Well, that first charter was exciting, wasn’t it?
GISELLA
It was awesome! The guests were a riot. So fun.
PRODUCER
How did it go with the deck crew? Talk to us a bit about how you feel about the team at the end of this first charter.
GISELLA
El deck team es un sueno. I love working with Eli and Cameron, and Palmer is such a great leader. He’s really calm under pressure, you know? It’s kind of… impressive. Makes me want to get to know him better, learn from him. I like when the person in charge of me is laidback like that.
PRODUCER
You helped out a little on service this charter, too. How was that?
Gisella hides face, peeking through fingers before dropping hands to thighs with a sigh.
GISELLA
To me, service is always the hardest part of a charter. Working the exterior is hard work physically, but we get to have fun with the guests. On the interior, it’s all about precision — and it was clear to me very quickly that Ember runs her crew differently than Palmer.
PRODUCER
Meaning?
GISELLA
Well… she’s a bit of a perfectionist. And I guess you sort of have to be to be chief stew. But she was kind of cruel to Finn that first night, wasn’t she? I don’t think it was that serious. It’s just dinner.
PRODUCER
Yeah, that was pretty intense, huh?
GISELLA
So intense. Eli and I were torn between laughing and staying as invisible as possible so we didn’t get our heads bit off.
PRODUCER
Why do you think Finn and Ember clashed so much that first dinner?
GISELLA
Oh, I don’t know. It happens sometimes with chefs and chief stews.
They work together really closely, and they usually both have their own way of doing things.
It’s normal to have some high tension. And look at how great dinner was the next night.
It all balances out in the end, they just have to find their footing.
PRODUCER
So, you’re not worried about it being a problem this season?
GISELLA
No. I think this crew is going to be the best one this show has seen.
PRODUCER
Love that energy! Yeah, maybe they just needed to yell at each other and get some of that frustration out. It’s got to be hard working so closely with an ex.
Gisella frowns, tilts head.
GISELLA
I don’t understand… ex?
PRODUCER
Yeah. Finn and Ember used to date.
GISELLA
They… what?
Once the boat was in decent shape and the post-charter interviews were done, we all retreated to the crew mess to get ready for the night out.
It was all music and laughter, the doors to every cabin open as crew members flowed in and out, asking about outfits, getting opinions on colognes, and pouring pre-game shots.
When we piled into the two van cabs that would take us to dinner and then to the bars, I ended up sandwiched between Eli and Cameron.
Not a bad place to be, if I was being honest.
“Ember, this top…” Eli said, biting his knuckle as his eyes shamelessly raked over my cleavage. His other arm was draped around the seat behind me, and I didn’t mind at all that we were touching from knee to hip.
“Easy, killer,” Cam said from my other side. “You need to respect the authority on our boat.”
“Palmer’s my boss, not Em.”
“I’m higher rank than you, though,” I reminded him.
“Maybe I like a woman in power.”
He smirked, casting me one of his signature winks that made me roll my eyes and shove at his chest. We were all already a bit tipsy, and even though I pretended to be annoyed by his advances, I welcomed them.
It was nice to feel wanted, and to take my mind off my ex who was riding behind us in the other cab with his girlfriend.
“Did anyone else catch the iciness from Gisella after interviews?” Leah asked from the backseat.
“I thought I heard her and Cheffy getting into it in his cabin,” Cameron chimed in.
I frowned. “Like fighting? Why? They seemed fine at the tip meeting.”
“Shit. You don’t think Cheffy saw me whip G’s ass with a towel when we were shammying, do you?” Eli pretended to be scared before sinking back with an even bigger smirk on his face. “Or maybe the horny bastard just wants a spanking himself.”
I chuckled with the rest of the crew, but lost focus on the conversation as Leah shifted to talking about how hungry she was. I racked my brain, trying to think of anything that could have happened to make Finn and Gisella have a fight. Then, I chastised myself for caring.
It wasn’t any of my business.
Still, I couldn’t help but watch them as they climbed out of the van behind us when we pulled up to the restaurant. Finn offered a hand to help Gisella out, but she barely looked at him once her feet were on the pavement. She folded her arms over her chest, scowling.
And then, she turned that death glare to me.
I flinched a little at getting caught staring, but saved it with a smile.
Except Gisella didn’t smile back.
I thought I saw her shake her head a little before she stormed toward the restaurant, sliding her arm through Bernard’s and leading the way. Cameron and Palmer followed behind them, Eli ruffling Finn’s hair like a kid, and then Leah and I took up the rear.
“I’m so excited to be off that boat for a while,” Leah said, slipping her arm through mine. “The days blend when you’re down in laundry.”
“It’s a shame you’re so good at laundry.”
“I know,” she whined, giving me a wink. “Also a shame that I already adore my chief stew, so I’d do anything for her.”
“I’ll get you on service next charter, make sure you see some sun.”
“It’s really okay. I love laundry. I love the quiet routine of cabins. But, yeah, if we have a beach picnic or something… tag me in, okay?”
“Promise,” I said. Then, I looked around at the restaurant, excitement blooming in my belly. “Ever had real Italian food before?”
“Never,” she confessed with a dreamy sigh, gazing around the same as I was. “But I was born ready to devour pasta and cheese.”
We dissolved into a fit of giggles, ducking inside the restaurant that was already teeming with life.
Trattoria del Mare sat on a quiet cobblestone street, tucked between towering buildings with weathered shutters and wrought-iron balconies overflowing with vines and flowers.
Twinkling fairy lights draped from the awning, their soft glow mixing with the flickering flames of candlelit tables.
The scent of garlic, fresh basil, and simmering tomatoes wafted through the open-air dining space, the sounds of glasses clinking and light laughter serving as the soundtrack.
The hostess greeted us with an easy smile and a buonasera, leading us past a wall of climbing bougainvillea to a large table in the back courtyard where ivy crawled up stone walls and a soft Italian love song played from hidden speakers.
A bottle of chilled limoncello and a basket of warm, crusty bread were already waiting for us when we sat.
Eli pulled out my chair before dropping into the one beside me, draping his arm right back over my shoulders like it was second nature.
“This place is lush,” he murmured, plucking a piece of bread from the basket and tossing it onto my plate.
“It’s about to be a long night. You’re gonna need fuel, babes. ”
I smirked at him, grabbing the bread and taking a giant bite right in his face. I moaned. “Still warm.”
Eli paled at that, his eyes on my mouth. “Christ, Ember. I’ve never wanted to be a carb so bad.”
“You want her to take a bite out of you?” Palmer challenged from across the table where he and Cam were already scanning the menu.
“If she makes noises like that? Hell yes.”
“Oh, my God, stop,” I said, shoving at his chest. I nodded to the menu. “Figure out what you’re eating.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Eli then panted like a dog and let out a little bark.
Bernard twisted open the bottle of limoncello, shaking his head and pouring shots for the table. “To a fat tip and a night we won’t remember,” he declared, raising his glass.
Everyone clinked their shots together before throwing them back. The tart, citrusy burn warmed my chest, and I couldn’t help but smile when I sat my glass down. I looked around, taking in the lights and the music, the faint scent of the sea, the pleasantly warm night air.
I was in Italy.
Sometimes it was easy to forget when I was caught up in the job. We worked long hours, long days, long nights — but in off times like this, I got to really soak it all in.
I kept smiling as I let my eyes wander over the crew, thinking about how we’d done pretty well working together.
There were hiccups with that first dinner service, and my stews needed a little more training in the cocktail and cabin-cleaning departments, but it was promising that no one was fighting or not pulling their weight — at least, not yet.
It was almost easy to forget the cameras were with us.
I was getting used to them, to the mic always clipped to my shorts and the wire under my shirt.
Tonight, that mic was hanging on to the back of my skin-tight jeans for dear life, the cord visible where it snaked up my exposed back and then under the white crop top I had on.
That top zig-zagged in the front, framing my cleavage in a way that I couldn’t be mad at Eli for looking earlier.
Everyone was dressed up, ready to let loose and celebrate our first charter under our belt. And everyone was in good spirits.
Except for Gisella and Finn.
They were huddled together at the opposite end of the table from where I sat, Gisella speaking in hushed whispers, her expression sharp as she gestured with one hand.
Finn’s head was slightly bowed as he listened, his fingers tapping the rim of his empty shot glass.
Whatever she was saying, he wasn’t arguing back, but he didn’t look happy, either.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away before I got caught staring again.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s none of my business.