Chapter 10
10
M aeve
“What do you mean there are no more ferries to the island?” I ask the cute clerk, whose level of cuteness is rapidly decreasing as he denies me a path to the family wallet and my salvation. The whole purpose of this trip was to get to them on time . On time before I run out of the hundred Jeff lent me. Which is not enough to rent a room, get food, and then buy a ferry ticket.
I knew the upgrade was too good to be true and that fate would throw some New York-sized curveball my way for that. Besides the other balls it has already thrown. Being left on the streets of Bora Bora would just top the cake. I mean, it could be worse, but still.
“Miss,” he sighs tiredly, as if I’ve been standing here and begging him for fifteen minutes. Standing—yes, begging—no. Begging started about five minutes ago. The next step will be threats. And then crying. I’ll reserve that for later. My last resort. “I repeat—there are no more ferries today.” He says every word louder as if I can’t hear him. I can. I just refuse to listen to him. “The next one is leaving tomorrow at seven a.m.”
“I can’t afford to stay here overnight!” I shriek, making the clerk raise his brow with obvious disgust.
He scratches his nose, trying to hide a smile behind his hand. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you came to Bora Bora ,” he mumbles, clicking something on his keyboard.
Judgmental much. I shoot him a death stare Darth Vader would be proud of but refrain from commenting since he still might be of use. I spent the last three hours trying to find my luggage with the very few pieces of clothing I have left—the ones Lulu had in her closet because she ‘borrowed’ them. Well, I borrowed them right back when I had nothing left. When I was finally reunited with my luggage, it was missing another wheel. Now, with two wheels down, I have to practically drag it behind me. The screeching sound it was making as the worker dragged it across the room wasn’t pleasant.
“O-okay, are there any other options available?” I try asking nicely. One tends to catch more flies with honey. But I’m running out of the sweet stuff by now.
He sighs again—louder this time. I heard it the first five times, alright. Drama queen much?
“You can rent a boat,” he says, rolling his eyes like it’s such obvious information to the general public, and I’m just wasting his breath here.
“Okay. Great!” It’s not really. How can I afford a boat for a hundred bucks? “How can I do that?”
“You need to go on the dock’s website and see what they have available,” he says.
“Can you do that for me?” I conjure a smile as big as I can possibly muster .
It’s wasted on him. “No, because they’re a private company.”
“O-okay.” I’m still trying to smile, but my facial muscles can’t hold on much longer. “Can you, maybe, check their website for me?” I add a few quick blinks, hoping it will help. I’ve always been bad at flirting, but I’m desperate at this point.
He drops his pen on the table with a huff, his head lolling to the side as he rolls his eyes before they settle on me. So much action into one move—the man has lost his calling in dramatic acting for sure. “Lady, do it from your phone!” he says before shutting the window in my face.
My phone. My twenty-buck burner flip phone. This thing can call and accept texts, but I can’t even write one of my own because it has only so many buttons. And by the time I’m done with a second word, I want to throw the thing into the wall. So the phone is out of the question.
Wiping the sweat away from my face, I look around and notice a small pier a bit ahead of the ferry station.
Grabbing my suitcase, I head toward a few boats anchored along the wooden walkway.
I don’t know what I was expecting but not eight boats total with zero people and zero buildings. Not even a tiny tent where I can talk to someone about renting anything. Where is everyone?
Making my way down the dock, I duck to look into the boats, hoping someone might happen to be inside. This is when I hear an engine starting. It seems to be coming from the very last boat on the left.
I take off in a sprint, dragging my two-wheeled suitcase behind me. It sounds like it’s dying a rapid and painful death, exhaling its last violent breath. I mentally order it to survive one last trip and then I promise to bury it with honor.
When I reach the boat, I’m out of breath, I don’t have any energy left, and it’s past dinnertime. I should have asked for extra food on the plane, considering it was free. But the jerk next to me and the awful turbulence killed the mood—I even skipped those much-desired mimosas.
My suitcase slows down my already unsteady run, and my face has melted into my décolleté. I feel like a gross, popped balloon.
The small fishing boat is about to take off, so I don’t have time to think. I grab my suitcase and throw it on board. Then I throw myself with a half jump half fall, hitting the railing and landing face-first with my foot hooked on the ledge of the boat, the hem of my skirt covering my head, and my ass hanging midair. I must be a sight to behold. I hope my suitcase landed better, otherwise it’ll be down another wheel.
Suddenly, the engine stops, and a loud voice booms somewhere from behind me, quieting all other sounds around. “What the fuck?”
It’s familiar. The rasp and angriness in it are familiar. The disgust too. And the slight growl.
I don’t think he’s talking about my underwear with a yellow duck saying ‘Don’t quack with me’ on the back, even though it’s the view he’s currently seeing.
“What the fuck is this?” The voice turns menacing. And even though I’m beyond any fear at this point, I get a shiver. I have some self-preservation left.
Trying to unhook my foot from the railing, I only make it worse. When the owner of the deep voice gets tired of seeing me struggle, he grabs me by my waist and lifts me in the air.
“Oof,” I breathe out, trying to cover my bum. But he’s already placing me on my feet, and gravity helps my skirt hide the duck.
“Oh, c’mon,” he cries out dramatically. “It can’t be true.” He lifts his face to the sky with the king of all groans .
“Oh, stop it.” I fix my skirt around my thighs because I need to make my hands busy.
I can see by the way his chest expands that he’s preparing himself for a big speech, when another voice comes out of nowhere.
“Hey, hey, young lady. What are you doing aboard my ship?” A shorter man appears in my peripheral vision, but I can’t bring myself to break eye contact. When I don’t answer, the man comes around to stand next to Mr. King , whom I give one last withering look to before directing my attention to the newcomer.
The new man looks like he’s from the islands, and I instantly feel better, dropping my attitude only a notch. The local people are always very welcoming, and I feel a spark of hope that I actually might have hit the jackpot. I don’t care what this grumpy loser has to say—the boat belongs to this man.
“I need to get to Maupiti Island.” I shoot him a sincere smile.
“Huh!” He claps his hands. “Look at that, we’re going that way already, so you’ve come to the right place.”
My nemesis whips his head toward the man, breaking his heavy stare. I consider it a win—anything to make him sour.
“I already paid you to get me there,” he says, his voice low and threatening.
“That’s okay.” He waves him off. “This young lady needs help. We can’t leave that nice lady here.”
“Yes, we can,” the jerk grunts through gritted teeth.
I raise my voice. “No, you can’t.”
He turns to me with a murderous look on his face. “Yes, we can.”
I come up to him and press my finger between his pecs. “No, you can’t. Is it your boat?”
“That’s my ship, Miss, and I’m the captain,” the shorter man chimes in, and I turn to him with a sweet smile on my face.
“Of course it is, Captain,” I reply in a sugary voice.
The man beams, and I know I won this round. You know how else I know? The man beside him is clenching his jaw so hard, he may crack a tooth. I wonder if his asshole is clenched just as tight. It probably is.
I look him right in the eyes. “You’re going there anyway. What’s your problem?”
His body grows even more rigid as he scoffs in disgust before storming inside.
The captain looks around worriedly. “The water is getting rough, Miss, you might want to head inside with him.” He makes a move to pick up my suitcase, but I stop him with a wave.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be easier to drag when we arrive. How long will it take by the way?”
“About an hour.” He looks at the horizon, a crease forming between his brows as he looks back at me. “Go inside, Miss.”
I look through the glass at the sulking giant and then back to the water in front of me. The waves are small at the moment, shimmering in the low sun, but obviously the captain knows more about what to expect than I do. The choice is obvious. “Don’t worry. I’ll go inside in a minute; I just want to get some fresh air.”
“Sure, Miss,” the man says as he makes a move to the door. But before he can disappear, he turns back to me one more time, a stern look in his eye. “Be careful though. Once it gets too rough, I want you inside. That’s an order.”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” I salute my hand to my temple, making him smirk.
When he disappears behind the door, I pull my black shorts out of my bag and pull them on. I slide the skirt off over them, fold it neatly, and place it back in my suitcase. I wanted to make a good impression when I showed up today, but with the way I’m looking right now and the time I’ll be arriving, that ship has clearly sailed. Pun intended.
“Why are you here?” a voice asks, startling me. How long has he been here?
I roll my eyes because of course he’d come to ask that. I’m actually very curious about why he’s here too.
“I’m trying to get to another island.” I nod at his direction. “The same as you are.”
He crosses his arms over his enormous chest. “Are you stalking me?”
My brows jump up. “Stalking you ? Are you stalking me ?”
He’s holding my stare until he grunts and disappears back inside the tiny cabin.
He’s right though—what are the odds of us being next to each other on the same plane, and then together on the same boat heading toward the same island?
Shrugging off the weirdness of the situation, I take a seat on the floor and lean against the railing. It’s the first time I let myself really look around me and take in what’s happening. The wind has gotten stronger since I had my less than friendly conversation with the rude clerk at the ferry station, and sitting here now, I can feel it whip against my already sunburned face. I can’t tell if it’s cooling the sting a bit or making it hurt more.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel it all.
But what I don’t notice is that my eyes are closed for far more than a minute. And that the wind gets stronger. Quite a bit stronger. Or that the boat starts shaking. No. Instead it just feels like some kind of lullaby.
I sleep through it all.