Chapter 9
Somewhere between ten minutes and twelve hours later, I wake up, fully clothed, in my bed.
Shit. I must have drifted off after my shower.
I sit up to open the porthole shade and see if it’s still light out when something falls off of my chest: a piece of stationary with the Vela Bianca logo embossed in gold at the header.
Went ashore for dinner—couldn’t wake you. The crew can make you whatever you want!
-Jules
I groan audibly. Harry is relaxed about a great many things, but deviating from his carefully formulated schedule is probably not one of them.
I cringe at the thought of Jules having to make excuses for me.
I must have been pretty out of it for them not to get me up for dinner.
My only job on this ship is to make Jules look good, and I’m already failing miserably.
I pull open the shades to reveal that it is, in fact, nighttime.
My head pounds with the memory of the three + sugary cocktails I downed at the float bar.
Here I am, face plastered with drool, while Matthew undoubtedly sips his scotch and laughs with the rest of the family at some bougie restaurant.
I guess this is what I get for trying to keep up with a professional.
I reach for my water bottle, but find it’s empty. I must have polished it off before I passed out—at least I made one good decision. I’m just getting the nerve to stand up and fill it when I hear a soft knock at my door.
“Come in,” I say, wondering if I’ve slept so long they’ve already returned. But it’s Gia who pushes the door open, armed with a fresh coconut.
“Just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been keel-hauled.”
Gia gives me a sympathetic look and passes me the coconut. I drain the liquid inside within seconds.
“I thought you might need some help. Those Cloud Nine cocktails are ferocious.”
“You’re amazing,” I tell her. “I thought I was going to turn into a raisin.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asks.
“A time machine? I hope I didn’t embarrass myself in front of anyone.”
I recall burying my face in Caleb’s chiseled chest and wince.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she offers. “You’re on vacation! Who cares if you get a little tipsy?”
I smile at her as she waves her hands in the air to illustrate her point. Gia really is adorable.
“I hate to ask, but do you know if we have any protein bars or crackers lying around? I feel like I might need something to soak up the alcohol.”
“No protein bars, but I can have Russ make you anything you like! Lasagna, curry, nicoise salad—”
“It’s ok,” I tell her. “I don’t want him to go to any trouble. I think I have some trail mix in my bag.”
“Well…” Gia looks around behind her as if someone could be listening. “The crew is about to sit down for dinner. Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh, I don’t think the captain would like that,” I protest. I don’t need to spend any more time with my new nemesis than absolutely necessary.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just stressed about making sure the trip goes off without a hitch,” she says sweetly. “He really is a softie once you get to know him.”
It takes everything in my power not to laugh out loud. There is nothing soft about Captain Caleb.
“Besides,” she says, “he won’t be there. He has watch until ten.”
That’s enough to convince me. I haven’t forgotten what Harry said about crew quarters being off limits. But my stomach is growling, and something tells me this coconut isn’t gonna cut it.
“You sure it’s not a bother?” I ask her, just to make sure.
“Positive!” Gia says, grabbing my wrist. “Now come with me before I have to call Russ and Jim up to carry you!”
I throw my wild, salty hair up in a ponytail before following her up the stairs and down to the crew quarters.
The crew lounge is a stark contrast to the lavish dining setup above.
There are no elaborate flower arrangements here, no gold place settings surrounded by a hundred different forks.
But this kitchen is bustling with life. Allie, Jim, Remi and Yara sit together at a table crammed with vegetables, fresh bread, and buttery corn on the cob as Russ plates his main dish: a fish large enough to feed a dozen hungry sailors.
“Boys and girls,” Gia announces as we descend the stairs. “Tonight, we have a guest!”
The room goes quiet, and a pit forms in my stomach as I realize the rest of the crew might not be on board with Gia’s plans. After all, Harry did tell me guests weren’t allowed below deck. But in an instant, everyone’s shouting and smiling again like I’m a part of their family.
“Good to see ya, Stella!” Jim shouts, scooting over so I can sit beside him. “Have a seat!”
“Thanks so much for letting me crash your meal,” I say as I scoot in on the bench. Russ places a large helping of the white fish on my plate as soon as I’m sitting.
“You picked a good night. Some of our friends caught this Walu a few hours ago and brought us some to share.”
“You have friends out here?” I ask.
“A few!” Allie answers. “The yachting community’s pretty tight—we end up moored alongside the same boats more often than not. When our schedules line up, we all get together to explore wherever we’re based.”
“That’s amazing,” I say. I dig into a piece of fish and practically die of happiness as the buttery meat melts in my mouth. “What’s your favorite place you’ve travelled so far?”
“Tahiti for me,” Russ answers.
“I was going to say that!” Yara cuts in.
“I don’t know, nothing beats the Amalfi coast,” Gia swoons, her eyes practically turning to hearts.
“Gia, is that where you’re from?” I ask.
“I’m from Portugal,” she says. “Yara too. She got me a job on the Vela Bianca a year ago after we met on a charter boat in Croatia.”
As we dig into Russ’s insanely delicious meal, I learn that he was a sous-chef for a Michelin star restaurant in London before he decided to trade it in for yacht life.
He met Allie three years ago when they were both working a charter in the Bahamas and wanted to travel the world with her.
In fact, almost everyone on the crew has a story of leaving their old careers behind for a life of adventure on the open ocean.
I drink in their stories like a Cloud Nine Pina Colada.
What must it be like to give it all up, to give a middle finger to everyone else’s expectations, and take a risk on the life of your dreams?
I’ve been so focused on becoming a professor since high school, I never even considered another option.
But I think that maybe in another life, I would have loved to do something like this—something unorthodox.
I would have loved to travel the world and paint portraits, landscapes: anything to capture the beauty that doesn’t translate in a photograph.
But something stops me from running to get it. I’m not an artist- not anymore. I don’t even know if I could sketch from a photograph, let alone a vibrant, bustling scene like this.
“So what kind of art do you do?” Gia asks as if reading my mind. Classic Jules to talk me up to strangers when she hasn’t seen my work in years. I wonder what exactly my sister told her.
“I used to work with oil and charcoal, mostly,” I tell her.
“Do you ever do portraits?”
“Once upon a time,” I tell her. “But it’s been so long, I’m not sure I remember how.”
I think of the brand-new sketchbook waiting in my cabin. This is the kind of moment I’d love to capture—warm, vibrant, bursting with laughter. Needless to say, I feel more comfortable down here with the crew than I probably ever will with the Warrens.
“I’ll be your guinea pig!” Jim raises his hand. “Someone’s got to capture the glory of this mustache.”
He smooths down the edges of his 80s cop ‘stache and we all laugh.
“Do you still have that hula outfit from Honolulu?” Gia asks him. “If you’re going to be immortalized, you’d better be wearing something fantastic.”
“No, no, you don’t need to wear anything,” I laugh, then correct myself. “Well, you should probably wear something. I think the honorable Captain Caleb might object to a naked portrait session on board.”
“Maybe it’s just what he needs to get him out of sergeant mode,” Yara winks.
“Think he’d let me borrow his hat?” Jim asks, raising a brow, and Russ lets out a loud chuckle.
“Now that I’d like to see. Whatdya say, Stella? Think we can pull it off?”
“Jim,” I stand up, assuming my best angry captain posture and mustering a (decidedly terrible) New Zealand accent. “Where is your walkie? And what in God’s name have you done with your trousers?”
Jim and Gia burst into near hysterics, but are interrupted by Russ loudly clearing his throat. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when a familiar voice has me whipping my head back round to the staircase.
I turn to see Captain Caleb standing at the bottom of the stairs, his hands on his hips like an angry schoolteacher.
“What’s going on here?”
His forehead is deeply creased with a frustrated expression I’ve come to associate with him in general. One that tells me I’m definitely not welcome here. My stomach flies into my throat and I sink, more like wither, into my chair.
“Coming to join us, Caleb?” Russ offers, rising from his seat.
Caleb glares at me, and I feel his gaze like it’s burning a hole in my stomach.
“Relax, Cap. Boss isn’t here yet, and Stella missed the tender to the island,” Jim says in my defense.
“It doesn’t matter if she’s here or not. You all know damned well guests aren’t allowed in crew quarters.”
“It’s my fault,” I interject as I stand again to look at him from eye-level. “I insisted.”
It might not be the truth, but I’m not going to let the crew take another hit for me. A muscle twitches in Caleb’s lip.
“There are rules on this ship for a reason,” he chides me. “You can’t just go parading around as you please. Harry may be relaxed about this, but if Arthur and Patricia find out we violated protocol, it’s not you who’ll get the short end of the stick. Did you think about that?”
My stomach sinks. The last thing I want is to get someone here fired.
“No, I—“
Caleb scoffs.
“Of course you didn’t.”
We stare each other down like two outlaws outside a dusty saloon. Maybe Caleb’s right, but he doesn’t have to be such a jerk about it. I can’t believe there was even a moment when I was interested in him.
I push my chair away from the table and it whines as the rubber slides against the floor.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I tell him, putting out my hands like a matador with an angry bull. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t bother. Damage is already done. Enjoy your dinner.”
Caleb turns and stomps up the stairs, closing the door behind him.
“Christ, what’s up his ass tonight?” Jim snarls as soon as he’s gone. He bites off a hunk of bread that scatters golden crumbs across his mustache.
“I’m so sorry, guys,” I tell them. “I feel terrible—I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.”
“No, Stella,” Gia says. “It’s my fault. I invited you!”
“Seriously, Stella—Caleb’s overreacting,” Russ assures me. “We’re not going to get in trouble.”
“He’s just jealous that you’re better company than he is,” Jim smiles.
Gia pats my chair and I hesitate before lowering myself back down. This is the third time I’ve caused a problem for the crew. I’ve only been on board one day and I’m already a liability.
“He’ll cool off in a minute or two,” Jim says. “This is just a bit new to him. He’s been wound up tighter than a Swiss clock since he made captain.”
I frown.
“He hasn’t captained before?”
Caleb’s ego seems enormously oversized for someone who’s been commander-in-chief for all of five minutes. But Jim shakes his head
“Caleb was the First Mate before I got the job. The Warrens promoted him earlier this year. But don’t worry—he’s as good as they come. He’s a bit of a legend in the yachting community. One of the youngest superyacht captains in the world, I reckon.”
“Of course he is,” I mutter, thinking back to the Caleb who laughed with me while he cradled my urchin-ridden foot. First Mate my ass.
“Seriously, Stella, don’t worry about it,” Gia says to me quietly. “He’ll come around. He’s just—“
“Under a lot of pressure?” I finish for her, thinking he exhausted that excuse about twelve hours ago.
“A grumpy bugger.” Jim winks from across the table. “We’ll take care of it. But if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning this to Arthur or Patricia…”
“And ruin the yacht’s best kept secret?” I gesture to the rich assortment of food on the table. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
That seems to convince them, because within minutes, the tension Caleb left behind dissolves into laughter as Russ recounts a galley fire he started at his first job.
But internally, I’m still freaking out. What if Caleb is right?
I’m sure I’m already on thin ice as it is after my little performance at Cloud Nine.
And I can’t afford to give Patricia and Arthur any reason to associate Jules with trouble.
From this point on, there will be no more messing around. No more vacation mode, no more back-deck standoffs. As soon as Patricia and Arthur arrive, I’ll be on my best behavior.