Chapter Two
Parker
I t’s been a great day out on the water. We had two parties to take out for some late-season excursions.
I work for a fishing charter company, Hollister Charters, in Sandcastle Cove with my best friends, Sebastian Harraway and Anson Leggett. Sebastian’s grandfather, Sebby, owns the company. He and his buddy, Donnie Dale, have run it for four decades. Still, he’s pretty much retired now and handed the reins over to Sebastian’s parents, who handle the business end of things, and the three of us pilot the boats, teach clients the ins and outs of intracoastal and deep-sea fishing, and keep the vessels in tip-top working order.
It’s a good living.
Around mid-March until mid-September, we are booked from sunup to sundown six days a week every year.
The three of us have been as close as brothers since we were in grade school, and we even ventured away from our hometown for five years to work together on a private yacht on the West Coast after Sebastian and Anson graduated high school. It was a blast. We’d pilot the boat back and forth from California to Hawaii every summer, and for the rest of the year, we’d share a tiny apartment in Santa Monica and pick up odd jobs around the beach. But Sebastian’s father had a medical episode that eventually brought us home to help out.
Anson and I begin mopping the boat floor while Sebastian aids the passengers in unloading their catch before taking photos of them and teaching them how to clean and fillet the ones they want to keep.
Once everything is in order, we disembark and find Sebastian hosing the cleaning station.
“All done?” I ask.
“Yep.”
He turns off the water, and the three of us walk to the office in a building nestled in the wharf, just a short distance from the dock.
We take turns showering in the back of the office while Sebastian’s mother, Milly, closes out the day. Once we’re dressed, we return to the front, and she hands each of us an envelope.
“You guys must have been entertaining today. That last group left you an extra-generous tip,” she says.
I open the top of the envelope and thumb through the bills. It’s an impressive sum.
“I was incredibly charming today,” Anson says as he does the same.
“Where are you three off to?” she asks.
“We’re having dinner at Brew’s tonight,” Sebastian answers.
“Oh, how nice. Tell him I said hello.”
“Will do,” Sebastian says before leaning down and kissing her cheek.
Then, the three of us pile into Sebastian’s Bronco.
We pull up to Brew’s place fifteen minutes later. It’s a beachfront mansion located on the exclusive eastern tip of the island. Sebastian taps a code into a box, and the wrought iron security gate slowly swings inward allowing us access.
The front door opens, and Brew steps out as Seb parks in the circular driveway. The three of us pile out, and Brew calls for us to come up. We climb the steps to the entry and follow him inside.
The house is incredible. The front foyer opens to a large kitchen and living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over a private beach with a massive deck reaching out to the dunes. It has a pool, a changing room with a shower, an outdoor kitchen with a covered dining area, and a full bar. The decor is sleek, modern, and coastal, inside and out.
“Damn, Brew. I forget how filthy rich you are sometimes,” Anson quips as Brew leads us to where a private chef is preparing our meal on the large gas stovetop.
“That’s why I invited you guys over. To rub it in your face a bit,” Brew responds as he reaches into a walk-in cooler and hands us each an ice-cold beer.
He offers one to the chef, who informs us that dinner will be ready in about half an hour.
Taking our bottles, we settle into a few lounge chairs facing the ocean while we wait.
This is the life.
“So, how’s married life treating you?” Brew asks Sebastian.
“I can’t complain,” Seb answers.
“Not yet anyway,” Anson mutters.
Sebastian chucks the bottle cap he was turning in his hand at him. He married Avie last year. They’d met in Hawaii while we were working and she and her best friend, Amiya, were on vacation. The two of them shared one passionate night on the island. Then, as fate would have it, five years later, she and their daughter, Leia, showed up in Sandcastle Cove by pure happenstance, and he fell head over heels for both his girls.
“Ouch. I’m just saying, you guys are still in the honeymoon phase. Give it time.”
“Like you have a clue about relationships,” Seb quips, returning his attention to Brew. “What about you? Any special lady out there in the racing world?”
Brew shakes his head. “Who has the time to date? I’m either at the track, on a jet, or in a hotel room, trying to catch a few winks. I came here to rest for a couple of days, and things imploded at Whiskey Joe’s, so I worked till the wee hours of the morning.”
“I thought the goal of running your own company was to be able to work less,” I say.
“Companies. And I have no clue what gave you that idea. As the boss, you have to work twice as hard as everyone else, which leaves you little personal time. No woman would put up with the sliver of attention I’d have to give her.”
Anson throws his hand out and gestures to the house and private beach. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you just might be able to find one willing to put up with quite a bit.”
Sebastian and I murmur our agreement.
“I’m not interested in being anyone’s sugar daddy,” Brew says, and we all laugh.
“What happened at the bar?” I ask.
“One of our bartenders left for college, and another quit without notice before we could hire a replacement. I found out Audrey’s been working fourteen-hour shifts five days a week plus Monday mornings since the beginning of the month and trying to handle her other tasks and schedule interviews. I pitched in behind the bar last night so she could get some rest. I have no idea how the woman has been handling it alone. It was a Wednesday and not even the busy season, and the place was packed all night.”
“She’s a hell of a bartender—that’s for sure,” Anson says.
“She is. But I don’t want her to burn out on me. I need her. I have good people running the operation, and ninety percent of the time, all I have to do is check in occasionally. So, I want to get this resolved for her quickly.”
“Have you had any luck looking for replacements?” Seb asks.
“There have been a couple of promising applicants. I interviewed one this afternoon who had the right personality but no experience. She’d have to be trained in mixology and handling a busy bar.”
“That sucks, man,” Seb says.
“It does, especially for Audrey. I wish I had more time to help, but I leave on Thursday and won’t be back in town for a few weeks. I’m going to talk to some of the restaurant owners in town tomorrow morning and see if they have anyone with bartending experience they can spare for a couple of months since it’s the off-season. I just need someone long enough to help Audrey until we get a few people hired and trained.”
“I can do it,” I say before I can think better of it.
Brew’s eyes cut to me. “You?”
I shrug. “Yeah, me. I spent several summers in California behind the bar on your grandfather’s yacht, serving drinks to him and his pals and business associates. As you said, the season is over, so there won’t be as many charters to juggle.” I look at Sebastian. “I mean, if it’s okay with you and Sebby.”
“Should be fine,” he says. “Plus, Lennon is home now, so I can always make his ass jump in if needed.”
Lennon is Sebastian’s older brother. He spent the last decade in the Navy but transferred to the Coast Guard in Oak Island at the end of last year. He and Amiya live on the island’s west end, across from his best friend, Wade Lusk.
Anson slaps me on the back. “He does make a mean cocktail,” he adds.
Brew considers me for a second. “That’d help me out, man. If you’re serious.”
“I can start tomorrow.”
“Great. I’ll get a temporary employment contract drawn up in the morning. Can you do sixty days? That should give us time to get a couple of people hired and trained.”
“Sure. Longer if you need me. We won’t be back to our full schedule until spring.”
“Great. Ninety then. That’ll take the pressure off and give me until mid-December to find the right people.”
He reaches his hand over, and we shake on it. Then, he lets out a relieved breath as the chef calls that dinner is ready.
We stand, and he clasps my shoulder as we approach the dining table.
“I appreciate this, man. I can’t wait to tell Audrey.”