11. Million-Dollar View
Million-Dollar View
Victoria
“He has officially been promoted from That Man Over There to That Man Stranded Out at Sea because where the hell is he?” I growled, looking at the expanse of the ocean. I was trying not to freak out, but it was becoming late, and the orange raft was nowhere in sight.
I’ll never forgive that son of a bitch if something happened to him. We have a rule not to go farther than the wreckage. I shouldn’t have been so fucking self-righteous and ate the damn birds!
“He’s fine. That man is literally a roach.
Him and his antennas will be back, bothering me, and keeping me sane,” I murmured.
I had a strong urge to strap my life preserver on and swim out to the wreckage to search for him, but the voice in the back of my head was telling me to trust him and give him some time.
I left our “condo” with the “million-dollar view,” as Knox loved to call it, and checked on the sun-drying coconut meat I planned on turning into flour.
I squatted over the drying mat Knox weaved together for me from palm fronds and rubbed the dried flakes between my fingers.
Satisfied, I scooped the flakes onto a slab of rock and used another rock to grind them into fine pieces.
I whistled the tune to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” as I tried to remain upbeat about my task at hand.
Later, I planned to make a crude pancake from the flour with some of the sweet fruit we found.
Personally, I felt the little dry-ass cakes left much to be desired, but Knox always requested them, ate them with a smile, and sent his regards to the chef.
I paused my grinding to wipe away tears on the back of my arm.
Since our arrival, there wasn’t a day when Knox didn’t tell me that he appreciated me and my efforts.
It was all I ever wanted from him—an acknowledgment that my work mattered…
that I mattered outside what I could do for others.
That was always the role I found myself in, even as a child.
My mother had deemed me the “responsible” and “independent” one when, in reality, I had more common sense than my older sisters, which translated to me taking on more burdens than my little shoulders should’ve borne.
My problem was that I was too selfless for my own damn good.
I looked out at the ocean, and relief flooded my body when I spotted Knox in the distance.
I never thought I’d live to see the day I was excited to see him — but in just a month, I’d gone from wishing he’d catch a case of crippling gout after an all-nighter to praying for his safe trip, his return, and… another kiss.
I wanted Knox…badly. It was something about how that man took care of me that made me as feral as my deceased cat, Nala, who would go into heat so severely that you’d find her with her ass tooted up in the air.
She didn’t give a shit what was behind her—human, couch, cat-scratching post—she wanted it.
My mom kicked her ass out for trying to throw it back on the Christmas tree.
She said, “That freaky bitch has to go.” A few months later, I saw Nala happily trotting around the neighborhood with her full, heavy belly swaying.
I could feel Nala’s pain, but the hygiene situation on the island hadn’t been the greatest. We ran out of the soap we recovered from the jet a few days ago.
We’d been careless with the soap initially and went from using it on our entire bodies to washing only the “important parts” with our dwindling supply.
We were always sweaty, sticky, covered in bug bites and sand — and often compared our underarm body odor to see who had the most pungent “onion burger” smell, as Knox graciously coined it.
I rolled my eyes when I thought about how extra he was when he would smell my armpits.
He’d start choking and hacking, and once, he even rolled onto his back and imitated having a seizure.
I didn’t even bother punching him in the gut because we both knew it was his ass stinking up our condo with the million-dollar view.
Maybe smelling each other and laughing at our musk was weird, but it was our way of coping and laughing at a situation we didn’t have the power to change.
It was our way of saying, “It’s okay. I understand.
” But at some point, I had to get out of my head and acknowledge that we were two stankin’ ass motherfuckers who needed to fuck.
The body odor and sweat weren’t going anywhere, and neither were our libidos.
* * *
Some time passed before Knox returned to shore. My concern grew when he nearly collapsed into the water while exiting the raft. I rushed towards him with a water bottle and abruptly stopped when I saw what was in the life raft.
“Oh, my God, Knox,” I whispered as I slowly approached.
“I promised you… I’d bring you back something nice,” he said between tired breaths.
“Where did you find it?”
“A reef about a mile past the wreckage. It took me a while to swim down and get it because of the sharks in the area.”
“Sharks… there were sharks?”
We’ve never had issues with sharks before.
“They weren’t huge, but I managed to get you a three-footer,” he said, proudly holding the shark up.
I smiled and put my fingers up, mimicking taking a photo of him with his deadliest catch.
At the moment, I didn’t know what made me happier, the Blacktip reef shark Knox bagged or my fully intact suitcase.
All I knew was that it was on and popping.
Knox
I’d barely gained my land legs again when Victoria threw herself on me.
The momentum knocked me off my feet and we collided onto the ground.
I hardly registered the seashell digging into my lower back because her lips were just that fucking hypnotic.
I thought the greatest thrill was hearing Victoria tell me to go to Hell with gassy drawers on, but being on the receiving end of her tender affection topped the fucking cake.
I’ll gladly swim in shark-infested oceans every day if this is the result.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered against my lips.
“No—fuck! What was that for?” I exclaimed, holding my cheek.
“Swimming with sharks, really, Knox Abraham Ramsey?”
“That’s not my middle name,” I said, sighing and rubbing the pain away from the slap.
Thank God she’s weak and malnourished. I would hate to see the damage if she were operating at full strength.
“My belongings weren’t that important to risk your life!”
“Bringing you the slightest comfort of home was worth the risk.”
The heated glare on her face slowly melted away. “Losing you is not worth the risk,” she said softly.
“I understand,” I replied. “Who else will carry the water from the waterfall?”
She rolled her eyes and climbed off me.
Okay, maybe I should’ve just kept my mouth shut because I obviously ruined the moment.
I pulled myself to my feet and watched her wrestle her suitcase out of the raft with glee as if she had found a chest of sunken treasure.
I secured the raft and beamed proudly at the shark.
Catching the shark was my greatest accomplishment.
Fuck the money, the mergers and acquisitions, and all the material bullshit; nothing could compare to spearing a shark with a bamboo stick and bringing it back home to the missus.
“Knooooooox,” Victoria called sweetly, catching my attention. “Look what I got!” she exclaimed, holding a bag full of snacks in the air. My mouth watered with excitement when I noticed the Three Musketeers in the plastic zip bag among the other goodies. But then a thought came to me.
“Why did you pack so many snacks in your luggage?” I questioned.
“I don’t know. I just had this feeling, you know? Like this feeling that my plane would end up crashing and I’d be stranded on a remote island with my psychotic boss slash island husband, and I needed to be prepared,” she said mockingly.
“Island husband, huh? I think I missed that memo.”
“Along with the HR-mandated trainings. Why are you bleeding?” she asked suddenly, pointing at my leg.
“That Three Musketeers is sounding delightful right about now,” I said with a smile, hoping to distract her from the shark bite to the back of my calf. I sighed when she crooked a finger and beckoned me to her. I complied, and she silently motioned for me to turn around.
“Knox Kilroy—”
“Not my fucking middle na—”
I was cut off when she slammed the bag of treats into my chest and stormed off to our hut.
Correction… condo.
I tore open the bag, rifled through it like a trash panda, and snagged the chocolate bar. I ripped it open and devoured half the bar in one bite. “Fuck me,” I whispered blissfully, closing my eyes as an orgasm exploded in my mouth. I seized when an intense burn shot up my leg.
“That’s unpleasant,” I complained, taking another bite out of the chocolate bar, this time smaller to savor my treat.
“Quit being a baby. It’s just rubbing alcohol. I don’t think you need stitches.”
“Then I think I’m justified in saying that you overreacted,” I murmured as I inventoried the remaining treats.
Chips, popcorn, cherry licorice, the treats seem endless. I wonder…
“Island wife.”
“Please don’t call me that.” She laughed softly as she bandaged my leg.
“On a scale of one to dead, where would I fall if I ate these peanut M&Ms?”
“Silent treatment,” she answered, securing the bandage.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, moseying over to her suitcase to see what else she packed. “What’s that?”
She peeked around me. “Tell me you don’t get bitches without telling me you don’t get bitches. It’s a vibrator, Knox.”
“That’s obvious. I’m referring to the case beneath it.”
Victoria crouched on the balls of her feet and retrieved the box. She hunched over it, blocking my view.
“Everybody get the fuck down right now! Move it! Down!” she yelled, pointing a gun at me. I dropped the bag of snacks and my body down to the sand. Victoria fell into a snorting fit before returning the firearm to the case. “Somebody has never seen Set It Off. Knox, get off the ground.”
“Why the hell do you have a gun?” I asked, slowly climbing to my feet.
“We literally live in Gotham City. I always carry, even on vacation.” She fell silent, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “Can you do me a favor, Knox?”
“No.”
“What if it’ll end my suffering? What if I fall off a cliff and I hit the rocks, but I’m still alive, but my wounds are fatal?”
“Then I’d do what must be done, but there’s no reason to have this conversation.”
“You’re right…let’s head to the falls and wash up before dinner.”
* * *
“This feels amazing, Knox. The only thing we’re missing is hot water,” Victoria sighed as she washed her braids with a coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner. I hummed softly as I washed my own hair. I could feel life slowly returning to the dried strands and felt almost human again.
“Here.”
Tears welled up in my eyes when Victoria handed me a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. “I don’t know who is enjoying your suitcase more—me or you,” I remarked, accepting the toiletries.
“Me. Hopefully, I won’t be subjected to your dragon breath every morning now.”
“Ditto,” I responded, squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto the brush. “Why do you pack extra toothbrushes?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Just in case one falls in the toilet,” she mumbled around her toothbrush.
“How many times has that happened to you?”
“Enough.”
“What’s this?” I asked, accepting an unraveled loofah. Victoria spat into the water before educating me.
“This feels like history repeating itself. It’s an African net sponge. Do you require a demonstration?” she asked tauntingly.
“A PowerPoint would be preferable.”
I squatted to retrieve a bottle I thought was soap—until Victoria’s aht-aht-aht echoed throughout the alcove.
“Give me that,” she demanded, snatching the bottle away.
“What’s yoni wash?”
She fixed me with a devious smile. “Oh, you’re about to find out.”