947 A.M. #2
Travis let a slow smile spread across his face and turned to Miguel. “There’s nothing better than shootin’ things. Well, ‘cept for screwing, of course. I’ve done it all over the world. Africa, South America, Alaska, Europe.”
Winslow, who didn’t look the least bit impressed, said, “Shooting or screwing?”
Travis narrowed his eyes a little, but he laughed anyway.
“Both, but I was talking about the first one. My den at home is full of things I’ve killed.
” Lowering his voice, he added, “Not all of them legal. But that’s maybe the best part of being rich.
We don’t have to follow the same rules as everyone else, now do we? ”
Antonia stiffened but kept her eyes on her food. Travis was quite likely a psychopath and would remain so long after they filmed the final episode of their show. Insulting him right now wouldn’t cure him. It would just guarantee a bad outcome for her, Ted, and their staff.
Mercy let out a laugh that Antonia interpreted as forced. “Oh, you!” She turned to the rest of them. “He’s only joking. He had permits for every one of those animals.” Rolling her eyes playfully, she added, “I swear in another life Travis would have loved to play a Bond villain.”
Picking up his coffee mug, Travis said, “And my wife would have made a killing in PR. She’s always making me sound like a better man.”
“That’s because you are a better man,” Mercy answered.
Sniffing, he said, “Some days I’m better than others.” Travis turned to look at Indira, who was cutting up a star fruit. “Indira, where is Oliver at? I want him to arrange for some fishin’.”
She smiled politely at her boss. “He is taking care of some things below deck, but I will tell him.”
Travis turned back. “Below deck. That probably means he went out partying all night.”
Ted offered him an easy smile. “He was here all evening feeding us drinks.”
“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young and horny, Ted,” Travis said. “When you were drifting off to sleep last night, he was probably just getting started.” Turning back to Indira, he said, “Is that right, Indira? Did Oliver go clubbin’?”
She nodded, although the look on her face said she preferred not to answer. “I believe Miss Charlotte wanted to see the sights of Split.”
Antonia glanced up from her food in time to see Ted’s jaw clench. He ran his tongue over his teeth, which was what he did when he was furious but didn’t want to show it. “Perhaps I should go check on her. Make sure she made it back okay.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mercy said. “Oliver likes to have a good time, but he’d definitely take care of her.”
Antonia wiped her mouth, setting her napkin next to her plate. In an attempt to be the good guy for once, she stood up and put her hand on Ted’s forearm. “I’m sure she’s working in her room. I’ll go and bring her some breakfast.”
Mercy shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing. You’re an honored guest. You stay put, or better yet, go stretch out on a lounger by the pool and rest. You two work far too hard to be serving your staff.”
“Now darlin’, don’t be saying things like that,” Travis said. “Not when we’ve got a big negotiation coming up.”
Mercy got up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Tough guy.” She turned to Miguel. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s a total pussy cat.”
“Only with you,” Travis said, wrapping one arm around her hip while she stood next to him. “Come here. Give me a little something sweet.”
She bent at the waist and gave him a quick kiss. Straightening up, Mercy said, “Now, you all go relax. Indira can bring Charlene something to eat.”
“Charlotte,” Ted told her in an impassive voice.
“Oh right. Thank you, Ted,” Mercy said.
Antonia watched Mercy glide back across the deck again, and she wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn the woman had scowled as soon as she started to turn away.
She knows. She definitely knows. They probably have everything on this stupid yacht recorded. Antonia felt sick again. A wave of desperation came over her. If she couldn’t find a way to fix this as soon as humanly possible, she could kiss everything they worked so hard for goodbye.
MIGUEL
Three down, one to go. Antonia had left for the sun deck, Mercy to change, and Ted said he needed a quick shower.
He just needed Winslow to leave so he could have some time alone with Travis, who at the moment was puffing away on a post-breakfast cigar that was offending Miguel’s sense of smell.
No way was that cigar from Cuba. It was probably some lesser quality product from Honduras.
Travis and Winslow were debating the cause of the tech bubble bursting, while Miguel sat quietly sipping his coffee and willing Winslow’s phone to ring.
Apparently some boring money thing had happened earlier in the year, and Winslow was going to have to answer some urgent questions about it.
He knew he shouldn’t find it dull (after all, Winslow seemed extremely stressed about it, which was very unlike him), but he couldn’t help it.
As soon as Winslow started talking about markets and the valuation overrides and hedge confirmations, Miguel’s eyes glazed over and his mind wandered off.
Finally, his cell rang, and Winslow excused himself, whispering to Miguel that he’d be back in their room.
Miguel watched him disappear up the staircase, his palms going sweaty.
In the back of his mind, he could hear that Eminem song about having one shot to seize everything you’ve ever wanted.
Would you take it or let it slip away? He smiled at Travis, who was using his pinky fingernail to remove something from between his teeth.
Pretending he wasn’t disgusted, Miguel said, “Mercy seems wonderful. Isn’t it amazing to be so loved by your spouse? ”
Travis gave him a vague nod, and there was something in his eyes that Miguel couldn’t discern.
Was it amusement? Disdain for them because they were gay?
Or was he onto Miguel? Regardless, Miguel had no choice but to press on.
“Winslow is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I’m sure you feel the same way about your wife. ”
“It’s certainly a plus to be married,” he answered.
“Yes, it’s what life is all about. Family. Having someone to love. To be honest, I’m worried about Winslow. He hasn’t been himself lately.”
“Maybe he should go see a doctor.”
Miguel gave him a conciliatory chuckle. “If only it were possible to get him to do anything he doesn’t want to.”
He let out a plume of smoke. “I can relate to that. Besides, there’s nothing manly about sitting on one of those tables in a gown.”
“Agreed. It’s one of the worst parts of life,” Miguel answered. He glanced at a fluffy white cloud that resembled a balloon animal made by a deranged clown.
“All right, Miguel, I know you’ve got something on your mind so you might as well come out with it.”
“What?” He touched his fingertips to his chest, as though shocked at the insinuation.
“No sense in being coy. Your shirt isn’t the only thing that’s see-through.”
Miguel laughed. “You’ve got me there, Travis.
” Leaning both elbows on the table, he sat forward, giving Travis his best ‘we’re just two guys talking’ look.
“Here’s the thing, I know the original concept for the show is the mansion in Ontario, but I have a much better place in mind.
So much more picturesque, and it’ll be easy to source materials and furniture. ”
Grunting, he said, “Is that so?”
“Yes, in fact, I’ve got two places that would be better.
One is right in London—excellent neighborhood, but a total rundown on account of the dead body found in the basement.
Could be sort of a true-crime-meets-home-improvement thing.
Actually, we could be starting a totally new genre of show.
The best part is it’s said to be haunted, which would be a bonus, especially if the ghost started moving things around when the crew leaves at night.
” He waggled his eyebrows and gave Travis an open-mouthed smile.
Travis stuck the cigar back in his mouth and shook his head. “Nah.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Let’s scrap that because I also found a grand estate home in Scotland that was abandoned twelve years ago.
All the original furniture is still there.
The grounds are totally overrun, which would make for an extremely satisfying transformation.
And just think of how the American viewers would respond to it.
A castle in the Highlands. Outlander meets Extreme Home Makeover. ”
Travis narrowed his eyes and stared at Miguel for what felt like a full minute—long enough for Miguel to oscillate from thinking Travis was actually considering the idea to being terrified by his upcoming response to wanting to hop overboard and swim back to shore.
Above them, the sails snapped in a gust of wind, startling Miguel.
Finally, Travis made a smacking sound with his teeth. “You haven’t told him, have you?”
“What’s that?” Miguel asked, buying time to think of an answer.
“Winslow. You know…the best thing that’s ever happened to you? He doesn’t know you signed on for the show, does he?”
Miguel’s voice lowered. “Not exactly.”
He let out an obnoxiously loud laugh. “What does he think?”
He closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the shame and guilt and humiliation of this moment. “That I turned it down, but the network wants me so badly, you’re willing to consider alternate locations.”
Travis burst out laughing again while Miguel sat squirming in his seat and forcing himself not to shush the man who now owned him. When Travis stopped, he shook his head. “Well now, that’s quite the conundrum you’ve got there, Miguel.”