Chapter 10
The yacht is blazing in the sun by the time the other girls wake up.
Needing a distraction, I had washed my own breakfast dishes and put them away, then wandered around the deck, taking photos of the sun-stained waves and billowing orange clouds.
I wasn’t exactly sure how this pivot from “book-related content” to “book-related content on a fancy boat” was going to work, but I might as well get started.
Unfortunately, the only novel I’ve seen so far on Empress is A Song of Scales and Salt, and I’ve made it a year without posting about that book—I’m not about to start now.
I need to get some new To Be Read stacks on this boat ASAP if I want this to work.
By the time the girls drift to the main level, I’m already showered, up to date on my social media notifications, and thinking about lunch as I lean against the railing, looking out at Ligia.
“Morning,” Fiona yawns, coming up behind me with a cup of coffee.
I don’t mention that it’s closer to the afternoon, and I don’t make eye contact with Fiona. I haven’t forgotten the heavy petting I saw in the billiards room last night. “Good morning. Hey, what’s the deal with the food?”
Fiona rubs her eyes blearily. “Hmm?”
Apparently Fiona isn’t a morning person. I clear my throat. “There’s like…no food in the fridge or cabinets. Is it grocery shopping day or something?”
“Oh, that.” Fiona’s mouth twists and she sips from her coffee. “We all eat meals prepared and cooked by Rachel. She makes the exact right proportions for each person. No leftovers. Usually yachts have a private chef, but Rachel takes that role on Empress.”
“Um, oh. I see.” I don’t see. That strikes me as weird. Why aren’t there any meals on this million-dollar vessel?
“The stews will probably bring provisions today,” Fiona offers. “If you’re really starving, there are always nuts and veggie chips at the bar in the billiards room. What have you been up to this morning?”
Trying to forage for food and seeing weird shit in the water.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I shrug. “I’m getting acquainted with the boat. And the island, from afar. Who lives in that house on Ligia?”
“No one,” Fiona replies, slurping her coffee and brushing pink hair from her heavily lidded eyes. “Sometimes the stews stay over when they have to work late. Or if a guest of Trey needs a place to stay and there’s no room on board. The beach house is way nicer than the crew quarters.”
“Yeah, where are those? Can I see them?”
Fiona shrugs. “I guess, though I’m not sure why you’d want to.
They’re not used unless we’re actually traveling somewhere.
Which has happened zero times since I’ve joined.
” She turns, leaning against the railing, cradling her cup of coffee.
Nodding to the starboard side of the deck, Fiona says, “If you go over that way, there’s a side door.
Narrow staircase. Leads to the crew quarters.
There’s an entrance inside too, on the main level. You might want to wait, though.”
“Why?”
Fiona smiles and jerks her head to the side, at Ligia. “We’ve still got company.”
I peer at Ligia’s long dock—a narrow fist sticking out into the water, struts supporting it on its trajectory away from the shoreline. There are several boats anchored there.
“From the party?” I ask, squinting at the dock but avoiding looking down at the water directly below us. I don’t want to see any more clumps of women-shaped seaweed. “Who’s here?”
Fiona opens her mouth, but my question is answered when the sliding door behind us whooshes again, and Trey Bardi and Carl Mumford stride out on deck.
“Finally up?” Fiona teases, leaving me at the rail and meeting Carl halfway across the teak. She has perked right up, exhaustion and potential hangover forgotten.
“We’ve got work to do today,” Carl responds, nuzzling her neck and making her giggle.
“You got some partnerships to pursue, right?” she asks, glancing over at Trey with a smile. As if remembering I exist, Fiona turns around and offers, “Carl and Trey went to the same college. They met at an alumni function. Trey keeps trying to lure Carl to join Royal.”
Carl grins. His deeply tanned skin glimmers in the fresh sunlight. “He could never afford me.”
Trey barks out a laugh. “We’ll see about that.
” His eyes flicker toward me, and I’m suddenly self-conscious.
I’m still in my oversized sweater and pajama shorts, but Trey doesn’t seem to mind.
He says, “It was good to meet you, Charlie. I look forward to chatting with you again soon, once you’re more settled.
Feel free to go to Viv with any concerns or questions in the meantime. Carl, ready?”
Fiona jumps into Carl’s muscled arms, pretending to wail forlornly. “I’ll see you next week, right, babe?”
“Of course,” Carl says, kissing the top of her head.
“I can’t wait,” Fiona purrs. “Be good.”
“I always am,” Carl responds, squeezing her hips. “You know I don’t need anyone but you.”
Well, that answers that question, at least. Carl is a cheating bastard, and Fiona doesn’t know. I glare at the Adonis twirling Fiona around like a ballerina. No wonder he’s in such a good mood. He probably gets off on the sneaking around.
“Race you?” Trey taunts, interrupting the couple’s goodbye.
Carl pulls away from Fiona, a gleam in his eye. He stalks over to Trey, bumping a shoulder against him. I wonder why Trey allows this man to stand near him—he only makes Trey look shrimpy and pale.
“Oh, please, no, not this again,” Fiona protests, hovering behind them. “It’s dangerous!”
“No, it’s not, Fee, don’t be dramatic,” Carl says, rolling his eyes.
I blink as both men start to strip off their clothes. It’s frenzied, fast; a race to get free from garments that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
“They do this all the time,” Fiona explains, her eyes unable to leave her boyfriend’s carved, bronzed body as he shimmies out of his pants, exposing a pair of black briefs. “They dock their boats at Ligia and catch a ride over with someone else. Then in the morning they swim back.”
How often are these dudes staying overnight?
Viv had made it pretty clear in our early communications that Empress was not a coed situation. “This isn’t Hype House or any of that shit,” she’d said. “Empress is classy, with classy people. There’s no drama. No fighting over boys.”
I wasn’t so sure about that now. If watching reality TV has taught me anything, it’s that putting a bunch of young, hot people together in one location is the perfect recipe for drama.
“That’s a far swim,” I note, peering over at the island.
“Yep, and there’s a riptide and rocks and God knows what else under there,” Fiona complains. “But they insist on doing it. Men…”
Trey goes over to a wicker footrest next to a matching deck chair and opens the top of it, exposing a storage area inside. He pulls out two dark gray bags and tosses one to Carl. “Dry sacks,” he says, noticing my gaze. “Keeps our clothes and phones dry when we swim.”
The men stuff their belongings into the sacks, rolling the mouths closed and buckling them, swinging the bags over their shoulders.
“See you, baby,” Carl says, quickly kissing Fiona goodbye and padding over to the side of Empress to stand next to Trey.
Trey glances back, grinning at me.
It’s not until they’ve jumped, muscles exposed to the sun, dry sacks snuggled on their backs, that it hits me. Carl obviously stayed in Fiona’s room last night, but what about Trey?
The two men freestyle toward the dock, arms pumping, water splashing around them as they cut through it.
Unless Trey slept in the crew quarters, which I find very hard to believe, he shared a room with one of his employees last night.
* * *
When it’s the six of us left on the yacht, Viv gathers us in the living area on the main level for what she calls a “family meeting.”
I sink onto a plush love seat and bite the inside of my cheek when the others choose the couches perpendicular to me, leaving me alone on an island of pale leather.
Viv stands in front of the leather couches we’re scattered on, eyelashes spidered with mascara, appraising us. I take the opportunity to do the same.
Finally. All of the influencers in the same place at the same time.
It’s a little overwhelming. Together, they are a decadent collective of looks, fashion, and beauty.
Mermaids once again swim to the forefront of my mind, and I can’t help but picture these women as characters from Sage’s book—my book.
They would all look stunning with tails.
Fiona is wearing natural, blended makeup.
Her cheeks are lightly pinked and her pastel hair is loose and flowy.
Rachel, in blue spandex, sits primly next to Ashley, who matches her sister’s bodysuit with one of her own, except in white.
Ashley fills it out more, appears more comfortable in it.
Rachel is shifting, pulling up the low-cut top to no avail.
But it’s Piper I can’t stop watching. She’s incredibly unknown, and the only one I haven’t officially met yet.
She’s dressed casually in soft-looking corduroy pants and an oversized white T-shirt that somehow looks like a ballgown on her.
Her golden tresses are folded together in a messy bun that I could never pull off in a million years, even if my hair was long.
Piper is wearing giant sunglasses and studiously ignoring me, even though she must feel the beam of my eyes.
Given her looks, she’s probably used to this level of attention.
Viv, dark hair in twin French braids, is wearing a teal two-piece lounge set, her breasts heaving up from the crop top, flat stomach perfectly tanned.
Her eyebrows are so sharp and shaped, they remind me of butcher knives.
“All right, so it’s Monday, and the first order of business is to welcome our new addition, Charlie Engels. ”
Viv claps her hands together briskly and stares at the other girls until they halfheartedly join in. Ashley is pointedly pretending I don’t exist. She claps twice and then leans away, stretching her legs out over Rachel’s lap.
Viv is unbothered by the lack of enthusiasm.
She has the energy of an orchestral conductor or a head cheerleader getting ready to give the big pregame speech.
She turns to me. “At the start of every week we have a family meeting to discuss the content we’re planning to roll out in the next seven days.
Both personally and for Empress. By the way, don’t let me forget to get you your paperwork today.
We have to get you set up with our accountant, but that won’t take long. You do have a laptop, right?”
I nod, not wanting to tell her it’s a ten-year-old Mac that freezes every time I try to download a file. My crappy laptop is one of the reasons I put off writing my book for so long, focusing on outlining by hand in my notebook instead.
My palms start to sweat. Is Viv expecting me to have a content plan for my page? That I have to share, in front of everyone, right now?
I had a Spanish teacher in high school who would make us go around the room and translate a sentence from our textbooks on the spot in front of the whole class.
It had given me the worst anxiety. I would sit there, counting the students in the rows ahead of me, trying to figure out which sentence I would end up getting so I could try to translate it ahead of time.
The same feeling is creeping over me now.
Back then, my best friend Ursula sat at the desk behind me.
If she saw me struggling, she would whisper the correct translation over my shoulder.
Halfway through junior year, I caught Ursula hooking up with my boyfriend in the back seat of my car. Three years of friendship, right down the drain, all because she decided the other eighty-five boys at our high school weren’t good enough. The one she wanted was the one I had chosen.
I keyed both their cars, digging silver teeth deep into the paint, carving gritty lines across the doors and trunk. After that, I had no best friend, no boyfriend, and no help translating in Spanish class.
“All right, so, I already posted a bunch of stories and a few photos from the party last night. That was Charlie’s soft launch.
I’ll need you, Charlie, at golden hour today so we can grab some content for your hard launch, and that’s when we’ll update our bios, tag everyone, and make the official announcement of your hiring. I’ll boost it too.”
It suddenly sinks in that this is my life.
Social media is my life. The money is too good to turn down, but I can’t be lackadaisical with my page anymore.
The experience with Sage flattened my creativity, including online, but I can’t half-ass posts once a week now. This is a job, and I have to work.
“Okay, girls, your turn,” Viv reminds me of a schoolteacher bossing around an unruly class. I can tell from her lifted chest and slight smirk that she enjoys this immensely.
“Rachel and I are doing the healthy gut partner posts Tuesday,” Ashley says. “Thursday is my virtual Vinyasa class.”
“Rachel will take stills for that you can post?” Viv asks. Rachel nods. “Use the Canon, it’ll be better than shots from the phone.”
“I’m on it,” Rachel replies, then she looks at me. “House camera. It’s easy to use, I’ll show you later if you want.” She turns back to Viv. “I have cooking videos prepped for Wednesday and Friday. Today I’m doing a post-party detox thing.”
Viv nods appreciatively. “Fee?”
“Same as usual, Viv. Three looks, one how-to vid. I’m thinking ‘how to stack looks,’ like how to easily change your daytime look into a date-night look.”
“Love it. Piper?”
I lean forward. My skin is sticking gently to the leather. Piper isn’t sitting around the ash-colored coffee table with the rest of us; she’s curled up on an armchair nearby.
Piper sighs, as if she’s answered Viv already even though she hasn’t said a word all morning. “Mika brought me a new delivery. Two outfits. And a spon post with Juicee Clothing. Plus, a Live tomorrow with @ForTheFashion.”
Her voice is lower and calmer than it was last night, but since her eyes are hidden by her sunglasses, I’m having trouble getting a read on her mood.
Viv watches the blond girl for a minute, like she’s waiting for her to say something else. When Piper ignores her, Viv clears her throat. “Good. We’ll chat about Empress’s specific content next, but first… What about you, Charlie?”
My stomach drops. So much for flying under the radar.