Chapter Twenty-One
CHARTER CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
PALMER HUGHES: BOSUN
PRODUCER
How are you feeling about the charter guests coming aboard for charter seven?
PALMER
It’s not the guests I’m concerned about — it’s the weather.
PRODUCER
Uh-oh. What’s going on?
PALMER
These guests pay a small fortune to come on this yacht for a few days, and they expect it to be everything they ever dreamed of: crystal blue water, soft white sandy beaches, endless cocktails served on a sunny upper deck, all the water toys they can think of, six-star service…
but all that goes right out the window when a storm moves in.
A little rain is one thing, but thirty-five knot winds, a gale warning, lightning, and buckets of rain?
Palmer shakes head.
PALMER
That’s when it becomes a nightmare — especially for the interior. Because suddenly, you’ve got to make a yacht charter worth $100,000 without even leaving the dock. The food has to be impeccable, and the whole crew has to pull together and figure out some way to entertain the guests.
PRODUCER
Does it eat into the tip, you think?
PALMER
Oh, absolutely. There’s only so much you can do when rich people have had their expectations shredded. Our tip will suffer — and so will we.
PRODUCER
Sounds like it’s going to be a tough one.
PALMER
For sure. And there’s nothing like a high-tension charter to test a team of crew members already on edge.
PRODUCER
On edge? It seems like everyone is doing great after yesterday. The beach day off was a hit, right?
Palmer scrubs a hand over his jaw, shaking his head.
PALMER
You’re really going to pretend like you didn’t see, huh?
PRODUCER
What do you mean? Did something happen last night?
Palmer laughs, stands.
PALMER
Good call. Save it for the reunion.
Palmer exits.
If the weather outside was gloomy, then the mood on Sinking Sun was an outright hurricane.
Rain pelted the harbor like bullets from a gun, wind whipping so hard the deck crew had no choice but to bring everything inside or hide it away in the locker.
Inside, the air was thick with nerves, exhaustion, and whatever invisible toxin made an entire crew collectively want to throw themselves overboard.
We’d been docked for thirty-six hours.
Thirty-six hours of non-stop complaining from our current charter guests — a group of middle-aged tech investors who looked like they’d just rolled out of a cigar lounge and brought their sugar baby starter packs with them.
Their girlfriends were runway hot, chronically bored, and wore their distaste for the men who paid for this little adventure like diamond necklaces, bright and brazen and impossible to ignore.
The primary’s girlfriend, Jewel, had gotten so blitzed at our make-shift wine tasting last night that she’d openly admitted that she and the other girls were hoping to pick up guys at the beach.
Not that her boyfriend, Robbie, or any of his friends noticed — they were too busy yelling over each other about how the weather was “ruining the vibe” and asking Captain, “Is it really even that bad? This boat would be fine out there. It just seems a little windy.”
We’d somehow survived the first night and got them drunk enough that they slept in. Finn made brunch a whole ordeal, and Bernard and I made sure service was nice and slow-paced. But the dishes were clear now, and the weather still sucked.
It was only 1 PM.
“Okay,” I said to the interior team, hoping the calmness in my tone would wash over them and bring them both down a notch.
They looked two seconds from quitting on me, and it was up to me to find a way to keep them motivated and hanging on.
“Let’s recap. We’ve already done a spa day, a wine tasting, a trivia night, and the most traumatic game of charades I’ve ever endured.
What else can we pull out of our magic hats here? ”
“Group therapy?” Bernard offered. “Because I’m quite sure Robbie is on with his best mate’s girl. And the oldest cat, Derrick? Yeah. He most certainly has zero interest in the blonde bombshell he’s been toting around. In fact, I’d bet my tip that it’s our primary he fancies.”
I arched a brow. “While I don’t doubt you, I hardly want to test those theories while we’re stuck on board with them. Even a superyacht feels small with that kind of drama.” I turned to Leah.
“I say we let them loose in the galley and call it a team-building exercise,” she suggested, stacking folded napkins with the aggression of someone one straw away from a breakdown. “Let Finn handle them for a while.”
“Because I’m sure he’d love that,” I muttered.
“Where is the deck crew?” Bernard crossed his arms. “If Cameron is napping again, I swear on my life…”
“Focus, team.” I clapped my hands together, forcing a smile at one of the girlfriends as she passed us.
Her name was Tempany and she asked if we’d make her a Miami Vice.
Once I assured her we’d get it done right away, I turned back to Leah and Bernard.
“Look, I know this isn’t fun. But we’re an all-star crew.
We can handle this. Come on — think. We just have to make it through today and then this nightmare is over.
What can we do to ensure that our tip isn’t completely invisible tomorrow? ”
Bernard sighed, but tilted his head in thought. And then Leah snapped her fingers. “Casino night?”
I pointed at her. “Now we’re talking.”
“I used to put these on with my brothers all the time in Alabama. I mean, we were usually playing with real money, but we can still make it fun for the guests. We’ll get chips and fake money and have prizes they can use their winnings to bid on.
Oh! Maybe we also have a punishment for the biggest loser of the night, like… ”
“They have to choose someone to cover in whipped cream and lick it off?” Bernard suggested.
A laugh barreled out of me. “Oh, that will be motivation for the girls to win for sure. Okay, this is perfect. I’ll call the provisioner.
Leah, you said you’re tired of laundry, so let’s put you to work.
You’ll help me serve dinner and set up the casino night after.
Bernard, I can see you need a break from this lot, so hit laundry and cabins and then work on what the different prizes could be.
See if Captain Gary is willing to help. Maybe he’ll let them use their fake money to buy their way into the Captain’s lounge or something. ”
“Brilliant,” Bernard said, and then with a sigh, he hurried off to the cabins as Leah and I continued brainstorming — while making a sweet, sticky, frozen cocktail.
The blender was not helping my headache.
I was holding on by a thread — and it was fraying fast.
Finn walking around the boat like he hadn’t had his hand under my swim top two nights ago wasn’t helping things, either.
He’d been nothing but sunshine and easy smiles all day yesterday, like he’d received news that he’d won the lottery rather than that we would have to fight our way through a rainy charter.
He was making jokes with the guys, humming in the galley as he sliced and diced, and throwing me looks I refused to catch.
And the more I ignored him, the more he turned up the heat.
It was maddening and alluring all at once.
I willed myself to keep the image of him and Gisella front and center in my mind so I wouldn’t be fooled by his longing blue-green eyes or the way he seemed to be finding ways to touch me when there was no reason to — a hand at the small of my back as he passed me in the crew quarters, a firm grip steadying me when I slipped a little on the wet teak deck greeting the guests, a brush of his fingers as he plucked one of my freshly cut limes for the dish he was prepping.
I felt like he was even trying to speak to me through cooking when he prepared a glorious spread of Cuban food like ropa vieja and stewed plantains for the crew lunch, complete with the most amazing Key lime pie I’d ever had.
It reminded me of South Florida, of home, and when I’d said so to Leah as we ate, I didn’t miss how Finn had smiled.
So far today, I’d done a decent job staying away from him. Other than relaying food requests from the guests for brunch, I hadn’t had contact. But as soon as I sent Leah off to serve Tempany her Miami Vice and get the other guests’ drink orders, my luck ran out.
I was about to hit dial on the provisioner’s number when I nearly ran into Finn in the pantry.
“Whoa, easy there,” he said, his smile charming and infuriating as his hands found my arms before I could fall. “Someone’s in a rush.”
My cheeks flushed, body betraying me in every way as it yearned for me to smile back and lean into his attention. “Yes, well, if you haven’t noticed, some of us are busting our asses to save this charter from being a complete disaster.”
I tried to move past him, but he side-stepped to block me. “And I’m not one of the ones pulling me weight, is it?”
I gritted my teeth. Of course he was. If anything, the food would be the only thing to save us. But I didn’t want to admit that to him.
The longer I stood there without answering, the more his smile slid into a frown. His eyebrows knitted together, hand reaching out to touch the side of my face.
“Hey, you need a break? I can call the provisioner and take that off your plate, make you some tea?”
I knew I was far past exhausted then because tears pricked my eyes, my throat closing in on the words I wanted to scream at him.
I shrugged away from his touch. “I don’t need anything from you.”
Shoving past him, I finished dialing the provisioner as I jogged down the stairs, but I only got one ring in before Finn reached over my shoulder and hit the “end call” button.
“Hey!” I spun to face him, the two of us caught in the cramped stairwell with not nearly enough space between us. I was one step below him, but I jutted my chin high in defiance. “Can you back off and let me do my job?”
“If you talk to me first.”
I laughed. “I can’t think of a single thing I’d like to talk to you about.”
“No?” he challenged.
“Nope.”
“Hmm, not one thing, huh?”
He stepped down with that question, forcing me to do the same. My defiance melted a bit, heart picking up its pace inside my chest.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Don’t what?”
This time, the words were low and teasing, the corner of his mouth tilting up at the corner. Goosebumps erupted over my skin.
I wanted to kiss him.
I wanted to throttle him.
I wished he’d tell me I was his again.
I wish I’d never been his to begin with.
I didn’t trust myself to bicker back without my voice betraying me, so I withdrew, shaking my head and descending another stair.
“Jaysus, Firefly — what’s the bleedin’ story?”
Ignore.
Ignore, ignore, ignore.
“Did I miss the memo where I became public enemy number one?”
That made me stop, my feet like Velcro stuck to the bottom stair. I whipped around, glaring at him and hoping he felt the daggers I wanted to throw with that gaze.
“You may have missed my memo, but I got yours loud and clear. If you’re so desperate for something to do, why don’t you go make out with Gisella somewhere?”
That wiped the smirk clean off his face.
“I mean, isn’t that your move?” I seethed, taking a step toward him now, the flames of anger finally overtaking the nostalgic ache.
I was fairly certain the stationary cameras couldn’t reach us here, and there were no floating cameras nearby, but I turned down the volume on my mic and whispered my next words, anyway — just in case.
“Touch me like I still belong to you, make me think for one second that maybe I’m not losing my goddamn mind — and then turn around and press your mouth to hers like none of it ever happened? ”
Finn’s jaw flexed. “Ember—”
“No.” I held up a hand, eyes snapping shut before I slowly opened them again. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like it still means something, like I still mean something when you’ve already proven I don’t.”
He tried once more to speak but I wouldn’t let him.
“I’m done, Finn. I’m done being confused, done wondering what’s real and what’s just some twisted game you’re playing with your own guilt. I don’t care if you’re still figuring it out or if you’re trying to punish her or punish me or punish yourself.”
I shook my head, lips trembling but voice sharp.
“You picked your side, Chef. Now stay there. Because I won’t be a weapon you use against another woman, and I damn sure won’t be your little memory doll you pull out to play with when you’re bored.”
I turned, the sound of my footsteps down the last of the stairs muffled by the downpour outside as I flicked the volume on my mic back on — but all I could hear was my thundering heart.
I didn’t look back at him.
I couldn’t.
I didn’t trust my rearview mirror anymore.
So I ripped that motherfucker down.