Chapter 26
American Cay
Sarah felt awful for Keith. He was still green in the gills and sitting in the direct sunlight, surrounded by screaming women.
She’d set him gently in a plastic deck chair at the net line, and as far as Sarah could tell through the sunglasses and under the brim of his hat, his eyes were closed the entire time.
He blew the whistle every once in a while, a sharp, high tweet, and then pointed one direction or the other, but it didn’t matter.
They didn’t need him—Shawn was player and coach on both sides of the net.
JackRabbit had occasionally hired great, experienced people who seemed like they were going to work well with the company only to bring them aboard and realize that they had no sea legs and therefore couldn’t possibly do the job.
This had not been a job requirement when Keith joined Boy Talk.
It was Sarah’s job to make the artists feel as comfortable as possible, and so watching them vomit over the side of a speedboat was not high on Sarah’s list of professional accomplishments.
Terrence and Scotty were both decent volleyball players, but Corey and Shawn put them both to shame.
Sarah watched Corey leap several feet into the air to slam the ball down, scoring an easy point.
She took out her phone and made a note—Corey and Shawn have to be on same team for competitive sports.
The sun was directly overhead, cooking all of them, and Sarah watched the Talkers around her bake and burn.
Jonathan was having a better time than the rest of them—Sarah watched as he whale-spouted ocean water above his own face, floating in the water just off the sand.
If she were Bobby, she would have drowned him on the spot.
Instead, Sarah handed out bottles of water to everyone—the guys, the fans, husbands—who looked like they were within spitting distance of heat stroke.
They were halfway through the day, halfway through the cruise.
Her walkie-talkie buzzed. Tyler’s voice crackled through the small speaker.
He was setting up the karaoke fifteen feet away, and Sarah turned around and saw him, sweating, dragging an amp through the sand.
“Help,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’m doing this the wrong way.
” He was. Sarah held up a finger, though not the one she most wanted to use.