Chapter 3 #2
Viv glances around, must see something on my face, because she reanimates and slaps herself on the side of the head.
“There I go, being all dramatic again. It comes with the territory, you know? Content creators; we gotta make a big deal out of everything!” Her breathy voice is back.
“I get sensitive because Elena and I were close, so it sucked when she quit. But everything happens for a reason, right? If she didn’t leave, we wouldn’t have gotten you! ”
“Sure…”
I watched a few of Viv’s videos on social media before interviewing with her. Her mannerisms, expressions, tone—they are all the same in real life as they are online. Which is strange because it comes across as insincere.
Except when talking about Elena, Viv’s voice changed. Her expression dropped.
“Come on, let’s finish the tour,” Viv says, chattering loudly now as if she’s trying to cover her slip. “Oh, wait, let’s drop your bag off in your room first.”
“I can do it myself! Which one is mine?”
I need a minute away from Viv. It’s been almost two hours in her presence, and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. I want to sit in a quiet room and take stock of my situation. I want to splash cold water on my face. I want to revert to my real self for five fucking minutes.
“I’ll show you; it’ll be easier!”
I suppress a groan and follow Viv once again, this time down the sleek staircase and into the belly of the yacht.
It’s darker here, on the lowest level. We aren’t under the water, but there aren’t any giant windows of glass either.
Instead, there’s a long hallway with two rooms on each side.
Tinkles of laughter, murmuring, and the clink of pool balls comes from the open space at the end of the hallway.
I almost forgot there were other people here.
“The billiards room,” Viv tells me. “The others are playing pool. I hope that means they finished their content for the day!” She smiles through the edge in her voice.
“I’ll have to meet them,” I reply, hoping I’ll be allowed to freshen up first. I’ve been on a plane, a bus, and a boat. Sweat is drying uncomfortably along my spine. I’d die for a shower.
“This is you,” Viv says, showing me the door on the left, closest to the staircase. She pushes the onyx-colored door open and moves aside, so I can enter and finally drop my duffel bag on the plush peach carpet.
“It’s lovely,” I say, because I know she’s expecting it.
It’s not a lie. My place in Wisconsin is cramped and ugly; this bedroom is meticulously decorated, even if it’s only slightly larger than my bedroom back home.
The king-size mattress is piled with cushy white bedding; the headboard is made of silver mirrored shapes that create an intricate pattern, and there are softly glowing bulbs affixed to ornate wall sconces on each side of the room.
A small port window allows sunlight to filter in.
Best of all, there’s a private bathroom, complete with a shower.
But the moment I step into the room, there’s a pause, as if the space is inhaling and holding its breath. I keep waiting for the release, but it never comes. There’s a tight sensation in the air, and I wonder if it’s coming from me, from my desire to get clean and relax.
“Okay, come on!” Viv chirps before I can even imagine steaming up the bathroom and washing off the day’s travel. “You’ve got to meet the other queens!”
“Oh, I thought I could—”
Viv doesn’t give me time to sit on the fluffy bed or empty my increasingly agitated bladder; she grabs my arm and drags me from my new room and down the hall.
I note the other three bedrooms as we pass—their doors are all ajar. The decor is slightly different in each one, and mine is definitely the smallest, but the other three have the same port windows and same snow-white bedding.
Viv yanks me into the center of the billiards room. She twirls me around like a debutante and the room—complete with a felted pool table, strip of bar against one wall, and round high-tops—blurs.
“Oh my God, you did it!” a shrill voice echoes as I spin. “You actually hired her on the spot?”
“Hell yeah, she’s the tits,” Viv replies, letting me go so that I lurch to the side.
Disoriented, I blink and clear my throat, focusing on the three girls gathered around the pool table. At first, I think I’m still spinning because I’m seeing double. Then I realize: twins.
But not identical. At least, not anymore. One of the twins has clearly had a good amount of work done, which is interesting to see in contrast with her sister, who hasn’t.
“Girls, meet Charlie.” Viv flips a palm toward the ceiling and gestures at me like she’s a game show host and I’m a shiny prize. “Introduce yourselves.”
It’s a normal enough request, but the way she says it makes me glance at her—it’s a command, like it’s absolutely mandatory.
The others obey.
“I’m Fiona,” says the girl closest to the pool table. She’s clutching a cue stick and a beer, and she has the most immaculately done makeup I’ve ever seen. “Fee for short.”
She grins at me, her purple-painted lips revealing blindingly white teeth. Fiona is pretty and curvy, adorned with a waterfall of pastel pink hair and matte black stiletto nails. Her all black romper makes her dewy skin and shimmery eyeshadow pop.
“Charlie. Nice to meet you.”
One of the twins, the one without plastic surgery, nods and smiles at me. “I’m Rachel.”
Rachel and her sister both have the same dark brown skin, the same coiled knot of braids, the same beautiful eyes.
But I’ll have no problem telling them apart—Rachel is slender and willowy, with dainty features.
She’s wearing billowing yoga pants and a loose tank top.
Her sister, on the other hand, is in a hot pink workout set that is so tight, I’m not sure how she’s breathing.
The other twin’s breasts have clearly been augmented, her lips filled, and her nose done.
“I’m Ashley,” the plastic surgery twin says, giving me a half smile. Ashley looks like Rachel if Rachel used one of those crazy Instagram filters that changes the shape of your face. It’s bizarre to see them standing next to each other looking so similar and yet so markedly different.
Ashley’s hazel eyes take in my sweaty hair, my strip-mall shirt, my old Converse.
I’m suddenly hyperaware that I’m a twenty-four-year-old queer girl from the Midwest with zero fashion sense and a tenuous grasp on who I’m supposed to be pretending to be. I’m not the kind of influencers these women are.
These girls are confident. They are gorgeous.
And they are young. Rachel and Ashley look to be all of twenty-two, and I peg Fiona at twenty-three at the oldest. I glance at Viv.
Like Fiona, she’s got a full face of makeup, but unlike Fiona, it’s hard to see her underneath it all.
I can’t tell her age, but I doubt she’s that much older than I am.
“Nice to meet you,” I say slowly. “I look forward to getting to know you all better.”
“The cool thing about Empress is that all of us have different niches,” Viv says to me.
“We curated it that way, so that all our content creators bring something new to the table. Not just to Empress, but to us as a group as well. Fiona is an amazing makeup artist. Ashley makes me jealous with her crazy yoga poses, and Rachel is a badass nutritionist. She keeps us all feeling healthy and looking great.”
“And Viv here does it all,” Rachel, the plastic-surgery-free twin, offers. “She can do a dance routine and show off a new workout trend. Plus, she’s the queen of lifestyle content. I mean, look where we live.” There’s a reverence in her voice, and I can’t tell if it’s for Empress or Viv.
“A beer, Fee?” Viv suddenly asks, spotting the green bottle in the pink-haired girl’s hand.
Fiona’s lip twists for a second, then she pouts. “Yeah, one, Viv. I had a rough morning. The look I’m working on isn’t turning out how I want, and it’s stressing me out.”
“All right, whatever. Your body, your choice,” Viv replies, almost offhandedly, but Fiona’s eyes follow Viv as she loses interest and turns to the twins instead. “Girls, shall we show Char the roof deck?”
Fiona hesitates, looking from Viv to the twins, as if she’s not sure she’s been included. She catches me watching, smiles, and abandons her beer on the bar at the side of the room. The bottle is half full.
The five of us go up the stairs, past the main level, and all the way to the top floor.
We’re deposited into the middle of a smaller version of the living room downstairs. It’s an open space with several gray leather love seats, huge glass doors overlooking the rooftop deck, and geometric floor vases. Two short hallways jut to the right and left, leading to the final bedrooms.
I expect Viv to show me the other rooms, especially after boasting about her VIP suite, but instead she walks over to the glass doors and leads us outside onto the rooftop deck.
There’s an outdoor bar under a huge canopy awning, lounge chairs, and an industrial-sized grill.
There’s even an outdoor gym, its equipment protected from the elements by plexiglass walls.
It must be like working out in a bubble.
The wind is stronger up here, and it tousles my short hair, scraping salty fingers against my scalp.
“Check it out,” Viv says, turning me around so I face the water, looking at Ligia.
She points at the island. “The water is pretty shallow here, but we’re still like fifty yards from Ligia’s shoreline.
It’s best to call for a ride if you want to leave Empress.
You can swim it, but I’m sure you saw on the way in—there are some pretty gnarly rocks around Ligia, and I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you’re a mermaid!”
I grit my teeth. Water floods my brain—gurgling, a hand reaching, a scaled tail thrashing.
No. Not real. Get it together.
When I’m sure my voice will be steady, I ask, “What if there’s an emergency?”
Viv looks at me strangely. “Then we’ll call for help. Obviously, the boat has Wi-Fi. And people are always trickling in and out.” Her pitchy tone drops like it did earlier and she says, “Don’t worry, Char. We’ve been at this for a year, and there haven’t been any issues yet.”
There’s a flutter of movement behind her; the twins have turned away from each other, and Fiona has become very interested in the teak deck.
“Empress is even hurricane resistant!” Viv continues, her voice breathy and pleasant again. “Luckily, we didn’t need to test that this past summer. But we’ve had some intense storms and made it through fine.”
“Hurricanes?” I question, letting a payload of anxiety infect my voice.
Viv waves me off. “Don’t worry, it’s November, and hurricane season is over. We’ll be fine, and once you get through one storm on Empress, you’ll realize they’re literally nothing to worry about.”
Before I can answer, Rachel’s phone pings. Her braided hair falls over her cheeks as she reads her notification. Her eyes snap upward, searching for Viv’s.
“What?” Viv says, caution heavy in her voice.
Rachel shakes her head, glancing at me once before saying a single word. “Piper.”
Viv’s demeanor changes. She moves rapidly, reaching for Rachel. “What’s wrong; is she okay?”
“She needs you,” Rachel whispers. She glances again at me, her cheeks sucking in a little. She shifts from foot to foot.
“Is she in her room?” Viv’s words are low on the wind.
Rachel nods. “She texted.”
“Take me.” Viv is all business now. “You know what to do.” She gestures to Rachel’s twin, the sister with plastic surgery.
“Ashley, you come help too. Fiona, continue the tour for Char.” Viv tries a smile for me, apologetic and dismissive at the same time.
“Don’t worry. Piper has some health issues.
She’ll be fine, but she needs me right now.
Get settled and we’ll see you for Happy Hour at five, okay? Welcome to Empress!”
Then she turns, taking the twins with her, leaving me on the deck with Fiona.