Chapter 3
ANDREW
S tanding in line beside George and the rest of the crew on the bridge deck aft, I held a tray of champagne-filled glasses, save all but one, my jaw aching with the strain of maintaining a polite smile.
We’d anchored near Grenada, and Rowan’s guests were currently struggling to get out of the tender given the high winds and choppy water.
There were shouts and bouts of swearing as the guests finally made it on board and stepped into view.
The door to the lounge suddenly opened, and Rowan appeared, relaxed in a white linen outfit and bare feet.
I had a hard time looking anywhere but at him, and I wished like hell I could down a glass of champagne myself. I’m just fucked up from jet lag.
Rowan greeted his guests and introduced them individually to each staff member.
First in line were Charles and Sophia Katlen, followed by Owen Blakely and finally Rowan’s best friend, Dylan Aylmer.
With his thick brown hair, pale green eyes, and chiseled profile, Dylan was almost too pretty to look at.
I could see why the press had dubbed him the “modern day reincarnation of James Dean.”
I watched Rowan and Dylan hug fiercely and suddenly wondered if they were more than friends. What does that have to do with anything?
I handed out champagne to the guests and provided Dylan with what his preference sheet listed as his favorite drink – guava juice with sparking water and lime.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Aylmer, I’m Andrew, the chief steward.”
“Thanks, Andrew, it’s nice to meet you.” So far, Dylan was the only guest who thanked me by name. It was a small gesture but always appreciated.
“You as well, Mr. Aylmer. Anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Dylan leaned in and whispered, “Call me Dylan. And I’ll need you to rescue me from this lot for sure. More money than manners.” His Texas drawl came out loud and clear.
“No worries, I’ve got your back,” I replied, and Dylan grinned in return. Rowan sauntered over and placed an arm around Dylan’s shoulders.
“You two friends already?” Rowan asked, and I flinched at the annoyed tone in his voice.
“I’m sure we’ll be friends in no time, I have a good instinct about people. Besides, I can tell Andrew’s a Southern boy. We need to stick together.” Dylan winked, and I chuckled. The actor had charm to spare.
“Don’t stick too close,” Rowan muttered, and Dylan shot him a look.
“Sir?” I asked Rowan, concerned that my boss was unhappy. Had I said something wrong? Rowan turned to his other guests, so I let it go.
“Welcome, everyone,” Rowan announced. “Thank you for joining me aboard Now, Voyager . My chief steward Andrew will give you the tour, show you to your room and then we’ll meet back here for lunch.”
Dylan and Rowan stayed on the deck chatting, so I took my cue and guided the other guests.
“If you’d like to follow me, please. This is the bridge deck, where most meals will be served, weather permitting.
” I led them up the stairs. “On the top level is the sun deck, which has a large hot tub and loungers. There’s an intercom on each level if you need to call for assistance.
” I guided them around the deck and back down two flights of stairs.
“The main level has the lounge, the kitchen, and the gym, as well as another deck. All the guest rooms are on the lower level. We’ll have your bags sent down, so please let me or my stewards know if you’d like us to unpack and press any garments for you. ”
The guests settled in, and I headed back to the kitchen to check on the status of lunch.
Lisette and Cassie were busy putting the finishing touches on a Caribbean inspired surf and turf menu including grilled lobster tails with jalapeno butter, spice-rubbed filet mignon, mango-cucumber salad, and fried plantains.
“This looks and smells amazing,” I commented and tapped my earpiece. “Kayla, could you please head to the bar? I’ll bring up lunch.”
It was a huge relief that I had two stewards working with me.
On my last job, it was only me and a secondary, and the long days and late nights of serving eight guests almost 24/7 for days in a row, charter after charter, was exhausting.
This gig was different, since the owner was aboard, and Rowan appeared to spare no expense when it came to staffing.
“Kayla, do you copy?” I repeated. Silence. Maybe her radio wasn’t turned up? “Kayla, could you please head to the bar? Do you copy?”
My earpiece finally buzzed. “On my way.”
“Andrew.” Cassie waved me over. “I asked Kayla to bring up some of these platters already, but she told me she was on break.”
“Her break isn’t scheduled until this afternoon. I’ll have a chat with her.” I paused and radioed for Jordan. “Jordan, could you please head down to the kitchen?”
“Right away.”
Cassie motioned to the platters. “Family style lunch, tongs are in the drawer to your right for service.”
Jordan appeared, and we divided up the dishes and the serving pieces. I grabbed the bowl of salad and the platter of plantains and made my way up to the main level.
All the guests, except Dylan, were gathered around the interior bar as Kayla mixed cocktails. Dylan sat alone outside at the dining table, checking his phone.
Despite his earlier attempt at humor, I could see plain as day the sadness in his eyes.
Dylan’s battle with alcohol had made big headlines when he was a rising star.
I couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure that scrutiny could do to a person.
Everyone had demons they dealt with, but some problems were harder to overcome than others, and some never went away at all.
I opened the patio door and walked over to the large teak table to set down the platters, Jordan following me.
“You follow football, Andrew?” Dylan asked as he slid his sunglasses off and laid them on the table.
“Falcons forever, I’m an Atlanta boy. I played when I was in high school. You?”
“Same here. I wasn’t good enough for college though. I’m a Cowboys fan all the way, but I had season tickets to the Rams when I lived in L.A.”
“I haven’t been to an NFL game since I was stateside. I’ve lived in Europe for the better part of this year, so now I’m getting into soccer – or the real football - as I’ve been told.”
“Yeah, I got that lecture from Rowan. He’s a diehard United fan, like those people are seriously hard-core. He took me to a match once, and I swear I didn’t think I was gonna make it outta that packed stadium alive.” He chuckled. “You miss home?”
I had to head back to the kitchen to grab the rest of the food, but it seemed that Dylan needed my company more.
I remembered what Rowan had asked me. I quickly looked at Jordan, and he pointed to the interior.
I nodded and smiled by way of thanks and turned my full attention to Dylan while Jordan made his way inside.
“I miss my family and friends something fierce. The city, not so much. But my parents understand the demands of my job.”
“No siblings?”
I shook my head. “I’m an only child.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
I’ve got four sisters, and I didn’t get to spend more than two minutes alone in a bathroom until I moved out on my own to California.
” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.
“I know what you mean though. I haven’t been back to Texas in years.
I’ve barely communicated with them since I got out of rehab two years ago. ”
“But you’re on a healthier path now. I’m sure they’d love to see how far you’ve come.”
Dylan shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know if anyone wants to see the ‘golden boy’ who made it big and then done wrong, you know? I hurt a lot of people, so I keep avoiding them.”
“You might be surprised at their reaction.”
“Andrew, I need you down here.” Cassie’s voice echoed in my earpiece.
“Copy,” I replied. “Sorry, Dylan, I’ve got to grab the rest of lunch. I’ll be right back.”
Dylan perched his sunglasses on his nose. “No apology needed. It’s my fault for going on and interrupting you.”
“You didn’t. I enjoy talking to you,” I replied, and I meant it. Unlike most of the high-profile clients I dealt with, Dylan was a down-to-earth guy.
“Why is only half the lunch on the table?” Rowan’s steely voice boomed from behind me. “Less time chatting and more time working would be best, don’t you agree?”
I turned slowly, and despite the electric glare of Rowan’s blue eyes, I didn’t waver.
From first impressions, I’d foolishly thought Rowan was one of those rare billionaires who wasn’t a total asshole.
I wasn’t sure where this sudden irritation of his was coming from, but I wasn’t going to bite.
I’d lost my cool once this morning, and it wasn’t happening again.
“Dylan and I were talking about football – American, not English - but I was still paying special attention to my duties. And I’m heading down right now to get the rest of lunch, if you’ll both excuse me.”
I left them alone but not before I heard Dylan’s reply.
“Why’re you being a dick to him, Ro?”
“Sorry. I’m tired and tense.”
I couldn’t agree more. An angry flush spread over my cheeks, and I willed my racing heart to calm.
I slammed the patio door harder than normal, and it felt damn good.
I took pride in my work, I was a professional, and Rowan’s comment unnerved me.
Between this and my travel exhaustion, I couldn’t wait until this day was over.
Rushing downstairs to the kitchen, I grabbed the platters of lobster and steak, and headed back outside, where all the guests were taking their seats. I served the food and drinks with ease and ignored the intense stare of my boss until I heard a cough.
What’s wrong now, dickhead?
I finally glanced at Rowan, and I was shocked to see a contrite smile on his face. Rowan mouthed “I’m sorry” as the other guests were busy chatting and eating.