Chapter 14
Julia
I’ve worked in some crazy rich zip codes. I’ve cleaned up kitchens in huge houses so deep in the Hollywood Hills, there’s no mailbox. Rich people don’t intimidate me. They don’t usually piss me off either.
This though?
This shit makes me want to puke.
Maybe it’s because the houses were houses. Everyone needs a place to live. The staff lived on the grounds. There was a sense to it. This is ridiculous.
The staff on this boat are probably paid next to nothing. Then they get “temporarily relocated” to I don’t even know where, leaving their rooms absolutely spotless, which I find out around lunchtime, when a white lady in a pencil skirt comes into the gallery to show us where we’re sleeping.
Compared to the SkrillaKilla’, the accommodations are nice and roomy. Two decent bedrooms. Bathroom between. But each bedroom has three bunks. If each bunk isn’t meant for two people, I’ll eat my boots.
We leave our bags there. We’ve already done a morning’s worth of work and haven’t seen a dime.
I can’t get off the boat with Tony until they finish their background check.
Somehow, I got trapped. As I work on making pristine white walls even whiter and more pristine, I decide that if they escort Tony out, I’m going with him. Fuck this.
At lunchtime, Tonya goes to the Skrilla’ to eat lunch with Dan. I stay behind with Tony. Walking down the hall, our hands brush against each other. His pinkie catches mine.
“We’re at work,” I say, then weave my fingers in his.
“That’s the only reason I’m not eating pussy for lunch.”
The staff cafeteria is pretty big, but empty except for us and a dozen others. A third of the steam trays are being used. The kitchen must have a skeleton crew.
“You’re doing great,” I say, sitting across from Tony.
He’s got a fat red apple and a sandwich on his tray. My foot finds his and our ankles lock together.
“Really?” He’s beaming. “I think that patch job by the door is still a little uneven.”
“You’re a natural.” This isn’t a lie. Tony’s a perfectionist. I can sympathize, but perfection is slow. In this case, that’s fine. We haven’t gotten our up-front money yet. I’m ready to leave a mess if it doesn’t show up soon.
As if cued by my thoughts, Nigel slips in through the double doors with a manila envelope in his hands. He waves to us and sits down.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he says when I put down my fork. “I already ate. How is everything?”
“Coming along.”
“Excellent. Mr. Girardi, we’re working on your background check. You have an aunt in Torrance who hasn’t seen you in five years.”
“Aunt Madeline?” His eyes glint behind his glasses. “How’s she doing?”
“She wants you to call her.”
“Thanks. I will.”
“She also said they shouldn’t impeach that nice president with the smart wife.”
“Aunt Maddy has opinions.” Tony wipes his apple. “I hope she didn’t bore you.”
He’s so cute, the way he neither confirms nor denies that his aunt thinks we’re still in the Clinton administration.
“She was delightful.” Nigel pushes the manila envelope toward me. My first thought is that I’m being served and I shouldn’t confirm my name. “Half up front. I hope cash works for you.”
On the way to the gallery, Tony takes me by the back of the neck and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to fuck you on every one of those bunks tonight.”
My body reacts so strongly to those words, from him, right there, that I gasp. “Tony.”
“I hope the room is soundproof. The crew’s gonna call the cops if they hear you scream. And you’re going to fucking scream.”
I push him away. “You’re bad.”
“Am I?” His smirk says he’s coming for me tonight. That look in his eye says we have fifteen minutes of lunch left.
I would. Really. But I don’t want to give these assholes a reason to think we’re worthless, low class labor who can’t help but get into an afternoon rutting session.
“Listen.” I slap the envelope against his chest. “Go down to the dock and give this to Dan and Tonya. You can’t leave yet, but they’ll meet you at the door. Tell them to put this in the bank.”
He takes the envelope and two steps backward, looking me up and down as if he wants to eat me alive. When he bites his bottom lip, it’s a punctuation on a filthy thought.
“Later,” I say.
“All three.”
“All three. Now shoo.”
He turns and dashes down the hall with our money.
When I get out of the bathroom, I head back to the space we’re working on, but maybe not. I make a left instead of a right, and realize the elevator we used wasn’t the same one Tight Bun took us on. I end up at the fountain pool, then somehow at the entrance to the driving range.
I don’t hear the clack and whoosh of golf balls going into the net so I figure, why not take a peek?
It’s bigger on the inside. Palatial. There’s an opening in the net, and below is the little dock where the SkrillaKilla’s docked.
Tonya’s on the deck, staring up at the driving range with a scowl.
She’s not looking at me. I follow her gaze to a man with a club in the one gloved hand.
The other waves down at her. He puts his hand up to his ear. The international sign for “call me.”
When I turn back to Tonya, she has her eyes on me. She throws up her hands and looks back down. Must be Tony with the envelope. She walks off the deck, onto the Goddess’s dock and into the hull, stomping as if she’s annoyed.
“Dollars to donuts, you’re Julia.”
I jump ten feet. The man coming toward me is Bellefonte Cooper.
“Hi,” I squeak.
He’s even more handsome in real life and has an aura of competence that would be intimidating if it wasn’t so reassuring.
He bites off his glove and offers me his hand. “Bellefonte Cooper. Tonya’s father. Pleasure to meet you.”
“What are you… I mean, I’m surprised to see you.”
“Geggy’s a buddy of mine. It’s a small town, Newport Beach.”
“Sure. Yeah. Well, it was nice to—”
“Just wanna ask you something about this Jaeger Duke case.”
Part of me wants to request a lawyer to talk to my lawyer. Instead, I nod.
“You were served on the marina?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember exactly where you were? In front of a building?”
“In front of Dan’s boat.”
“See, the servicer put an address on the paperwork, and I don’t believe you were at that address. Which means you were served improperly.”
“Oh! Right. Cool.”
“What I’d need is any pictures you have from that time.” He has Tonya’s smile. “Before or after is okay.”
Caspian was taking pictures with my old phone.
“I’ll check.”
“I can make sure the case goes away if you were served incorrectly. It would save my daughter the trouble of having to speak to me which, unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to enjoy.”
“I doubt it’s like that.”
He puts his glove back on. “I just saw another man get on that boat. Was he the one with you when you were served?”
Must be Tony bringing the envelope to Dan and Tonya.
“That guy’s not here.”
Bellefonte’s going to ask who was on the island. Wasn’t there another man besides Dan? Was he from the island? Who’s the man I’m with, if not the man from the island?
That man’s a screwdriver now. The man who gave Tonya an envelope was a level. Neither is a tool, but both are. And they’re both my sex partners in both tool and man forms.
Shit.
I’m frozen in the face of all the questions I’m not being asked, because anything I say now could contradict what I need to say later.
It’s one thing to get a lawyer when you’re being sued over a golf cart.
It’s another to tell a judge that you were with a screwdriver the night of the incident and a level the day you were served a summons.
“Was he with you when you were served?” Bellefonte asks.
“Honestly,” I say, believing it because I have to, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
My brain is made of sludge. I have no idea what just happened. Bellefonte asked a few questions about the golf cart. I answered and said I had to get back to work.
Now I can’t think about anything else.
How are we supposed to go on with this case? What if someone wants Caspian, the guy from the island who has the picture of the dock, and Tony, the guy I’m with now, in the same room at the same time? What if they have to prove they’ve been walking the earth for the past thirty years?
Somehow, I find my way back to the gallery, where Tonya’s standing over a pile of clothes.
“There was a part of me that doubted you,” she says, leaning down to pick up something.
“What happened?”
“I saw it. Right in front of me.” She hands me Tony’s glasses. “What did you do?”
“I talked to your father.” I pick up the level.
“What did you say?”
“I think…” I can’t say that I denied knowing Tony. Not right in front of him when he can kind of, but not quite really, hear me. “I don’t know. Fuck.” I have Tony in one hand and the glasses in the other. “How do I get him back out?”
“Same way you got him out in the first place?”
Sure.
Fuck his edge.
Keep him level.
On a boat.