by Mara Webb
We paid up and thanked her for another amazing meal before striding out onto the sidewalk to look for luggage. Ryan had made it clear that he had numerous collections of designer suitcases but that what he really needed to pick up before the trip was a different toiletries bag as his last one had been unsalvageable after a shampoo explosion.
I made fun of him for the remainder of the afternoon as he looked at the pitiful options available in our small town, his standards were obviously a lot higher than the average high street store could live up to. He eventually decided to order one online and have it speed delivered to his house.
“Can’t you just get the shampoo out with magic or something?” I asked as we walked back to my house on Charm Close.
“Even magic can’t fight that level of slime; I’ve tried a few times and it just kept changing the color of the fabric instead. I’m not wasting anymore evenings fighting with a toiletry pouch.”
When we got back to the house, I sent a quick email off to the relevant people at the University to let them know of my travel plans and then began to feel the excitement that Ryan had been feeling all along. I hadn’t been on a vacation in such a long time that I couldn’t even remember how to pack a suitcase. Great. I would likely spend the next seven days fretting about forgetting something trivial and it would keep me up at night.
Ryan drove past a man in some sort of nautical uniform that was directing other cars to a private parking lot associated with the many boats of Mr. Nicholas Blatham-Ford.
What a ridiculous name.
I had been hearing about this guy’s level of wealth all week but seeing staff that worked for him made me realize just how ‘next-level’ this trip was going to be. The marina had taken a while to get to as Sucré wasn’t located all that close to the ocean, but neither had the last place I had lived before I moved. I had never had such proximity to luxury items, it was breathtaking.
I had pestered for as many details as I could get out of Ryan and all he had managed to give me the model of the yacht, that was enough to go on. Of course, Mr. Blatham-Ford had given his yacht a custom name, the ‘Andiamo’ which meant ‘let’s go’ in Italian. It was a yacht that could comfortably fit twelve guests and was valued at over nineteen million dollars, I had pressed to know more about what exactly it was that Ryan’s client did to earn such wealth, but it seemed that he wasn’t exactly sure.
Some undefinable career path had caused this man to amass a fortune that allowed him to live in a way that I couldn’t even dream of. Once we parked the car, the uniformed man walked over to speak to us.
“Mr. Hughes? Ms. Wildes?” he said. “Please allow me to assist with your boarding, I can take care of your bags momentarily.” I kept trying to shoot a look over to Ryan to say, ‘This is so fancy!’ but he was busy exiting the car and trying to stay calm, I knew he was excited too. The man walked slightly ahead of us onto the wooden pier and then held out his hand as we approached the little bridge leading onto the yacht.
“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to enter a boat using one of these little bridges!”
“It’s called a gangplank, miss,” the attendant said.
“Fancy!”
“After you, miss,” he said with a curt smile.
I walked across the ‘gangplank’ and stepped onto the bottom deck of the yacht. I went first and the view was astonishing. We stepped up onto an open outdoor area that had large, pristine white sofa’s, tall speakers around the perimeter and wide glass doors which allowed an unrestricted view of the interior.
“The other guests have taken to their suites to organize their belongings. Your bags will be waiting for you if you wish to do the same. Could I interest either of you in a drink?” our guide said. Neither of us could muster a sentence so we simply nodded, and he walked forward to open one of the sliding glass doors in front of us.
We walked through an outdoor eating area and into a room with a dark wooden floor and mood lighting. There were heavy, brown linen curtains either side of the glass door wall and blinds that seemed that they could block out the light entirely from each of the windows that ran along the side of the room. I realized that this was a cinema room and the dark suede sofas here had built in nooks to hold drinks and snacks.
I felt out of place and giddy simultaneously. The yacht alone was unbelievable, let alone the fact that the owner planned to take us out onto the water to show us islands and tropical fish. I felt like a person with my salary had no business on a vacation like this, but I was in a once-in-a-lifetime situation that I wanted to take full advantage of. I was so glad I had remembered to bring all of my chargers so I could take a thousand photographs on my phone to send to my mom, she was gonna freak out. I noticed that this room had a solid wooden door that branched off into a separate room.
“What is in there?” I asked our uniformed friend.
“That is Mr. Blatham-Ford’s office. It is the only area that he requests remains off limit to his treasured guests during this voyage.” Noted. He walked behind the bar and gestured for us to take a seat at one of the tall, leather bar stools. “What would you like to drink?”
I answered with the same thing I always say following that question. “What have you got?”
“We have absolutely everything and I am a qualified mixologist so please feel free to order anything you like. If, under the unlikely circumstance that I have not heard of the drink, I will see to it that I learn how to make it for you.” Well, I probably shouldn’t order a peach schnapps and lemonade on this fancy boat with this fancy guy with his fancy drinks mixing degree or whatever he just said. I focused on trying to come on with the most elegant sounding drink I could think of. I tried to use my best ‘I belong here’ voice and spoke with confidence.
“I’ll take a vesper,” I said. Although I added an upwards inflection at the end to make it sound more like a question. I could have kicked myself.
“Coming right up,” he said. I had read about it in some critique of a James Bond movie that was written by a martini enthusiast. I would probably hate it. I watched as he measured vodka and gin into silver cups and took a moment to take in everything around me.
This was heavenly.
How could I have known that not everyone would be getting off this boat alive?
3
Once we had finished our drinks, our jack-of-all-trades bartender offered to take us to our room. He had a name badge pinned to his chest and I realized that we had been speaking to this guy for nearly twenty minutes and I hadn’t noticed it or asked what his name was. Sean escorted us down a flight of stairs to the cabin area below the deck that we had entered on, the numbers on the door gave it a slightly more ‘hotel’ feel but it still screamed money. He handed us a key card and swiped it against the door lock for room four.
I stepped into the room and gasped a little. For some reason I thought the rooms would be tiny, like on those old sitcoms where the characters take a trip on a cheap cruise and they have a tiny porthole window and not enough room to turn around without hitting the walls.
“I will leave you to have a few moment’s rest Ms. Wildes, Mr. Hughes. Mr. Blatham-Ford will be boarding shortly at which point we will depart from the marina. He has instructed me to inform you all that he will be hosting an introductory luncheon at one o’clock this afternoon but you are of course welcome to any of the foods in your refrigerator over there, or please feel free to contact one of the staff and they will prepare whatever you wish.”
Sean bowed subtly as he walked backwards out of the room and I wondered if he was under the impression that Ryan and I were fancy, important people that he had to treat a certain way.
“This sure is something,” Ryan said. I looked over at him and his hair had changed color slightly and curled despite his obvious attempts to tame it before he met up with me this morning. The dark grey mass on his head was now peppered with lighter browns and flecks of silver, I wondered if the stress of taking me on a romantic vacation was making his hair lighter some
how. This was quite a huge step in our relationship and here we now were, in a room with one very large bed in it. We hadn’t shared a bed before.
“It’s wonderful. I mean, that’s not the word is it, this place is nuts, I am just worried I will sound like a bridge troll at this millionaire’s lunch. Who else will be on this boat with us, like, royalty or something?” I asked.
“Maybe even an old president!” Ryan said. I almost threw up on the spot. “No, I’m joking, I’m joking. Don’t panic. I think he said just some friends and family. You don’t need to worry about not fitting in or whatever, you are worthy of being here just like everybody else.”
I slipped my shoes off and sank my toes into the pale gray carpet that covered our bedroom and living space. The bed must have been a super-king, or whatever size was bigger than that. It could probably fit eight people in it, and they would all sleep soundly. A quilt of violet silk covered the top of the sheets and I perched delicately on the edge as to not wrinkle it all too much. I now had a better view of the rest of the room. A TV was built into a diagonal wall near the foot of the bed so that it was visible from the sleeping area and from the giant, black fabric sofa that ran along the windowed wall.
Ryan had wandered down passed the sofa through a wooden door with horizontal cut-outs, pushing it open I could see marble tiling in the bathroom. “You should see the size of this shower. You could fit the New England Patriots in here.” I leapt off the bed and jogged over to see what he was referring to. There was a ‘his and hers’ sink with illuminated mirrors above each, expensive looking soaps and other glass encased substances on the counter and then of course the shower.
It was made from two giant panes of glass, one was a solid glass wall, the other was the door. It ran the entire width of the room and hanging above it was a rainfall showerhead. It looked nice and all, but there would be so much shower space where you could stand and not be anywhere near the water that I didn’t see the point.
We stood in silence looking at the bathroom fitting when the room suddenly wobbled, and I remembered that we were on a boat. “What was that?” I asked in fluster. I had crouched down as if ceiling fixtures would fall like in the aftermath of an earthquake.
“I think the guy owns a helicopter, he probably just arrived that’s all,” he replied calmly.
“Landed on the boat?”
“Yeah, most of these huge yachts have a helipad. Did you want to change for lunch?”
I wandered back into the living area and saw that two suitcase holders now stood at the foot of the bed; they had not previously been there. I opened up my luggage and started to gently place each item in either a wardrobe, a draw, on my nightstand or in the bathroom. Ryan opened his suitcase and waved his hand over its contents, causing everything to float around the room and stow itself away in the appropriate area. I hadn’t thought of using my magic, it would have saved a lot of time.
“Why didn’t you suggest that I do that? Jeez, I’ve been putting all this stuff on hangers like an idiot,” I laughed.
“Well it looked like you had a system going and I didn’t want to interfere. Here, look,” he stepped to the open wardrobe door and looked at my dresses hanging inside. “Conptus!” he declared. I walked over in time to see all of the creases in my clothes disappear.
“So, you do have your uses,” I grinned. He kissed my cheek and closed the wardrobe door.
“Oh snap, it’s 12:45 already. We should be heading up to find everyone else. Did Sean say which level lunch would be on?” Ryan asked.
I was not great at retaining useful information if it was mixed in with directions or instructions, so if he had told us where to go, there was a good chance I had not been listening. I quickly changed into a floral dress with long sleeves and we both left our room in a hurry to avoid lateness.
I could hear a muffled argument through the door of room two as we moved past it and approached the stairs, the door to that room opened. I looked back briefly to see a man and woman continuing to bicker in the hallway. The woman, upon realizing she could be seen and heard, stopped immediately and gave a smile.
When we reached the deck, I heard voices coming from above, as well as the gentle hum of the engine. We were moving now, and I hadn’t even noticed, we would be at the mercy of the captain now for the next few days and that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. I tried to push all squid centered anxiety to the back of my mind and followed Ryan up the next flight of stairs. On this level there were more plush seating options, a very long table surrounded by chairs, and a BBQ that filled the air with the fragrance of sizzling fish and vegetables.
Sean appeared behind us and when he spoke, I almost fell over as I hadn’t heard his footsteps approach.
“Would either of you care for a drink?” he asked. Ryan had been surprised too but was able to hide it better than me.
“Peach schnapps and lemonade for two please, Sean,” Ryan replied. He winked at me and I smiled back, he was ordering the drink I really wanted for both of us so that I wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The other people assembled on this deck seemed to be drinking out of either champagne flutes or martini glasses.
“Right away, Sir,” Sean replied.
There was a young woman operating the grill and she wore a sheen of perspiration across her forehead as she focused on flipping items over before they became overly charred. It didn’t really seem as though anyone was talking, or if they were it was quietly in their pairings. A raised voice from the bar caught everyone’s attention and what little conversation there was dropped away as we watched a man shouting at Sean.
“You think you can tell me I’ve had enough? I make more money in one hour than you do in a year, how is that for enough?” he barked, slamming an empty glass down on the polished bar and twisting round to face the staring crowd. “You can all go to hell as well,” he mumbled. There was a moment’s pause as he calculated his next move, which turned out to be a stagger towards one of the white sofas near the railing at the back of the yacht. He collapsed down and seemed to fall asleep instantly.
“I apologize for my brother,” a voice said.
A blonde woman had moved over from the other side of the room to stand with Ryan and I, she was then joined by the man she had been speaking with. “I’m Stephanie and this is my husband Dominic. Feel free to call him Dom, Miccy or whatever other nicknames you can think of.” She took a large drink from her martini glass. “We’re Nicholas’ children and sometimes my Jonathon likes to pretend he has had a hard life, so he drinks himself into a stupor and humiliates himself in front of Dad’s friends. You must be Hughes, the lawyer that got him out of that sticky parking ticket fiasco,” she said.
“Yes,” Ryan replied. “This is my girlfriend Nora, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand out to shake hers, she seemed to reluctantly meet him halfway.
“I’m sure. Dad will be the last to arrive, he does enjoy keeping everyone on his timeline.” Stephanie turned and slapped the back of her hand against Dom’s arm, this was apparently the signal for him to retrieve hand sanitizer from an inside pocket of his jacket so that she could cleanse the hand that Ryan had shaken. I hadn’t heard much about Ryan’s millionaire client, but I had been led to believe that he was a perfectly pleasant man.
His children however both made terrible first impressions.
The remaining people in the room had yet to introduce themselves, there was one older couple and the rest were around the age of Stephanie and her brother. I wondered if the whole group was made up of his children. Jonathon snored loudly from the back of the boat and the young woman operating the grill turned to adjust the volume of the sound system so that it would drown out the sleeping drunk.
“You needn’t have waited!” a voice shouted. A man, who I assumed must be the man himself, Nicholas Blatham-Ford, descended from a higher level down a staircase which allowed him to walk towards us from the rear of the ship, not too far away from the impromptu bed that Jonathon had made. “I see
he started early, again.” Nicholas started to clap his hands together for attention and point in various directions which appeared to be all the information the staff needed to begin transferring plates of hot food onto the table.
This would make for an eventful meal.
4
“Kimberly this is overcooked, try again,” Stephanie said, thrusting a plate towards the young woman that was barbecuing.
“Steph mind your manners. I didn’t drag you up,” Nicholas said through a mouthful of food. “Now I suppose you are all wondering where we are off to, but I would like that to remain a mystery until we arrive there. Not even my darling Leslie knows.” Nicholas reached over to clutch at the hands of a much younger woman with an enormous diamond ring on her finger. “But I can promise you it will be worth the wait. Plenty of things to keep us all entertained I can assure you, only nine holes there though I’m afraid Monty, we’ll just have to play twice.”
He laughed and the other older man at the table laughed with him.
Sean was swirling around behind the seated guests refilling drinks and taking down any requests they had. Each interaction had him noting down a great amount of information so that when he reached Ryan, I felt pressure to think of something to ask for. Ryan dismissed him politely.
“Nothing for me, thank you Sean. Honestly, we have more than enough, don’t we?” he looked at me. An idea had come to me and I didn’t want to push it away now as I would be unable to stop thinking about it otherwise.
“Could I…no it’s stupid.” I stammered.
“No stupid requests Ms. Wildes. I can be very discreet,” Sean whispered. I had no idea what he was referring to.
“Could I have a Cadbury egg?” I asked, my cheeks flushing as I heard my own words said aloud.
