by Nina Hatch
All of us are sweaty and exhausted by the time we see our next charter group coming up the pier, but we’re able to tuck in our shirts and pop and pour the champagne for them just in time, friendly smiles twinkling on our welcoming faces.
There’s no real chance to catch up with any of my coworkers all evening, and the guests don’t go to bed until well after midnight. I was planning on a quiet night to catch up on some sleep and kick the final dregs of this cold, but Claire leaps on me while I’m walking down the hallway, returning to our room after washing my face. She pulls me into Teddy’s cabin, where he and Lucy are already sitting on the lower bunk, surrounded by popcorn and licorice. Teddy pats the chair next to his sewing machine for me to sit down.
“So? Tell us everything,” he says. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”
“What is this? You guys, I’m exhausted. Can we do this some other time?” Looking around at their eager faces though, I can tell they’re not going to let me go that easy. I exhale dramatically. “Fine. Pass me the wine then.”
Lucy pours me a generous glass from a bottle that must be worth well over $300. The owner of the yacht decided on a whim that he wanted to restock the ship with only Italian varietals of wine, meaning he was impatient to clear all the French bottles from the cellar. That meant we as the crew made out like bandits, distributing the bottles amongst ourselves. We were halfway through the Loire Valley stash, and by next week we’d be onto Provence. I’m pretty sure this fine Sauvignon Blanc Lucy poured me was never intended to pair with Skittles, but you wouldn’t believe the understated aromas and nuance those chemical dyes and artificial flavors bring out in the exquisitely ripened fruits of ancient vines.
After taking a long sip, I open my eyes, remembering all over again how utterly perfect last night was. “Everything was…really wonderful,” I say, dreamy. “Even though Claire’s cold reared it’s ugly head last night.”
“Eeesh, I’m sorry, Liv,” Claire says with a sheepish bite of her lip. “I tried to keep my germs to myself.”
“It’s okay, really. Being taken care of turned out to be one of the best parts. Besides, I should have seen it coming, it was almost like I hadn’t had that release in too long. When I was in business school it was the same way. I used to stress myself out so badly during finals that my body was holding on by a thread. The moment I turned in my final essay, I’d instantly contract pneumonia or something.”
“I’m the same way,” Lucy says. “Sometimes the pent up stress makes my body just react.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh really? We hadn’t noticed. You throw your whisk or ladle at one of us at least twice every charter.”
Lucy adjusts her posture to sit a little more haughty in her pajamas. It’s an impressive feat, as her pj’s are covered in dancing bacon slices and fried eggs, but she carries it off. “So I get a little fiery. But don’t I always apologize with cookies?”
“Yeah, I still have three batches from last week,” Teddy jokes. “You were not messing around during that tasting menu.”
Lucy shoots him a sour look but laughs along, refilling our glasses.
Looking around at them all, Claire, Lucy, and Teddy, laughing with them, it’s so effortless. It makes me realize that I’ve become closer to these people in under a month than I have with my assorted friends and colleagues back home, even those I’ve known for years.
“Hey, don’t get off topic here, I want to hear about Liv’s date! Tell me more, tell me more!” Claire sings, hitting my shoulder. “Don’t make us do the full Grease singalong scene. You do not want to hear Teddy’s Kenickie.”
“Hey!”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Stephen Reid lied to you in high school drama club because he wanted to make out with you,” Claire says. “Now come on, Liv, spill.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I start to tell them the details about the smaller things, the pasta, the wine, the cat, the cold, until Teddy finally yawns dramatically and gestures to me to get on with it.
“Lucy, break out those zucchinis you brought. I know you got to see the goods and I want a comparison,” he interjects.
“Oh, he’s working with a full package, I can tell you that,” I relent, heat rising to my face.
But I find I’m no longer comfortable revealing any more details about last night. I felt everything so deeply, like I’ve been gifted with something pure, and I don’t want to risk tarnishing it by exposing it to air. “I don’t know,” I tell them, “I guess I just, never knew sex could be that good. But…it was. Now I see what all the fuss was about, y’know?”
“Oh, honey, no one should have to punish themselves with bad sex. Including you, jellybean,” Teddy says, nudging Claire with his foot.
“Hey, this is Olivia’s sharing time, not mine,” Claire says, flinging popcorn at Teddy.
But I want sharing time to be over.
I pick up Teddy’s sketchbook, trying to divert the attention off the topic of Jake and open it up. Teddy’s designs are really quite good, and as I flip through the pages, a couple brochures flutter out.
“The Milan Academy,” I gasp, scooping the colorful flyer off the floor and clutching it to my chest. “Oh, this is the dream.”
“I know, right?” Teddy says. “If I had talent like yours, that’s where I would apply to. Don’t get me wrong, I love the program I’m in back in San Francisco, but I’d trade it in a heartbeat for the Academy if I could. Why don’t you submit your stuff? I’ve seen your sketches, you could do it.”
I study the glossy pamphlet, pressing my fingers to the images of chic ateliers and runways. For a brief moment in time, this was a life I could picture myself in. For the past couple years, though, I’ve practically been chained to my desk even during New York Fashion Week, so I barely get the chance to indulge in this fantasy anymore.
“Did you still need help on your designs?” I ask, gazing longingly at his sewing machine.
“I’d love that. Whenever you have time, I can’t wait to pick your brain,” Teddy says, perking up.
Just then, Mel pops her head around the doorframe. “Olivia. Brilliant, just who I was looking for. I spoke to my brother, Thomas. He can get you a Skype interview with one of the hiring managers at Thadmore, Boyle & Lake if you like. Just pop your résumé by my bunk tomorrow and we’ll get it sorted.”
“Oh. Thanks, Mel. I’ll…I’ll bring that by tomorrow,” I say.
I have to glance at myself in the mirror to make sure the smile I pasted on looks grateful instead of like I just watched a door slam closed in my face.
This group of charter guests turns out to be a complete nightmare, with special dietary restrictions, entitled attitudes, and a need for the deck crew to inflate or set up all the slides, jet skis, and water toys onboard every single afternoon. By the end of the week, we’re all worn out and Lucy owes each of us a batch of cookies.
The only good thing about last week was that I had the chance to sneak away each night to Teddy’s cabin and we worked together until it was almost dawn, one of us sketching and draping, the other on the sewing machine. We both had essentially finished portfolios by the end of the charter, along with some elite level sleep deprivation, but is was all worth it.
Oh, and I guess another good thing was that I got a job lined up. I’m sure my excitement over that will kick in any day now.
The interview Mel set up for me at Thadmore, Boyle & Lake went perfectly. I fed the hiring managers my canned lines and lies about my passion for analysis and charts, and I was able to put a positive spin on why I left my last post, claiming I did so for the opportunity to experience global economies firsthand while honing my customer service abilities. They ate it up like cotton candy, sticky, sweet, and low on substance.
The next day, they called and offered me the job.
The words rang hollow in my ear. I blamed it on a bad connection and waited for the excitement to kick in, but I haven’t been able to summon goosebumps over the thought of chaining myself to a
new cubicle next fall.
After we finally let the guests from hell off the Venus to catch their flight, Captain Todd docks the boat in Mykonos. We pull together to get the yacht cleaned as quickly as we can so by the time night rolls around, we’re ready to let loose as a crew. Part of the celebration tonight is meant to be for me lining up a new job, but that victory still sits like a stone in the pit of my stomach, so I try to encourage this to just a fun night out for all of us instead.
Mykonos doesn’t let us down. This island knows how to party, and even Teddy seems challenged to keep up. Three dance clubs in, he demands a break, pulling us into what I thought was an Internet cafe to sit down for a minute, but it turns out to be a sex shop. Claire tries to back away toward the exit, but Teddy — suddenly reenergized — has us both by the hands, running toward the vibrator aisle.
“Look, they have it! This is the one I’ve been hearing rave reviews about,” he says, plucking up a sleek rose gold model. Claire blushes, but she takes it in her hand, testing the motor by running it against her inner arm.
“Oooh, that is nice. Here Olivia, try it.”
I bat her away. “I’m pretty happy with Jake’s cock, thank you very much.”
“Right, but you’ll need something for when it’s over, this summer won’t last forever, you know,” Teddy says, pulling out four boxes from the upper shelf.
My mouth goes dry at the thought. He’s right, of course. This is so clearly just a vacation fling. Jake is very much stuck in Schiaro and I’m very much committed to Manhattan. Neither one of us can really pretend this is going farther than that.
“Hey, don’t let yourself get down,” Teddy says, catching me mid-realization. “You’re seeing him when we circle back through Schiaro, right? Let’s find you something cute to wear.” He goes over to the racks and racks of bright, cheap lingerie, the kind that can barely make it through one night.
“So, give me a heat level, babe,” Teddy says. “Are we talking angel or devil?” He holds up a pale pink babydoll in one hand, a leather playsuit with a mounted strap-on in the other.
“Jesus, Teddy, what is this, Goldilocks in pornoland? Let’s find something in between,” Lucy says, coming over to join him at the racks. I zone out again to the tune of hangers sliding and clacking behind me.
My eye wanders out the front window to the antique store across the way, where a centuries-old ornate wooden frame is on display. It somehow reminds me of Jake — hand carved, covered in gold leaf, and brilliantly restored. He could probably tell me about the type of wood it’s made of, it’s history, how many generations it had lived through, and so many other details that he seemed to just know.
I shake my head to clear it. Teddy’s right. I should just focus on the present, the short time I have with Jake, and finding something cheap and ephemeral, something not meant to last, is exactly what I should be shopping for. Eventually, we settle on the classic: black crotchless panties and fuzzy handcuffs.
By the time we check out of the sex shop, bright pink bags in tow, the four of us are hysterical, laughing and giving each other a hard time over our purchases. Together, we’re young and stupid in a way I’ve only ever been a witness to before. It feels fucking amazing to participate this time, to have a group of friends that truly has my back. Teddy couldn’t keep away from the bachelorette section, so he bought us all feather crowns and a glittery sash for himself, along with a grape flavored lollypop in the shape of a massive veiny cock that he’s currently savoring with relish.
“—Olivia Quinn, is that you?”
I shudder.
Anytime I hear my name said in that clipped, sophisticated manner you can only acquire by attending the finest prep schools on the Upper East Side, my blood gets a little chillier in my veins. Shoving my bag into Lucy’s hands, I’m able to pull my crown quickly off my head before I turn around.
Ugh. Francie Larson. Fabulous. Voted ‘most likely to marry for money’ in our snide sorority ceremony junior year. Francie nominated me for ‘most likely to end up eaten by her cats.’
Since I don’t recognize the dolt she’s standing next to now, I assume she must have traded in Chad and is working her way up the ranks.
“Francie! Hi!” I trill, knowing I must smell like hot tequila and body glitter when I kiss her on both cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to call you for ages,” I say. Why do I fall right back into these lies anytime I’m around someone from my life back home?
“Yes, well. It has been some time since we’ve heard from you. This is Thad, as I’m sure you know,” she says, gesturing to Chad’s wealthier carbon copy who gives me a sneer. “I read about Connor and Emily’s wedding in the Times. It sounds like it was lovely, I was very sorry we could not attend, we had business in Dubai. We always summer in the Mediterranean, but our schedules simply didn’t work out this time.”
“You were missed,” I say, mock-graciously. The fuck? Is this how I used to talk?
“How are things, Olivia? Are you…well?”
Clearly, news of my “wild” behavior must have made it back to the gossip circle. I probably have Emily to thank for that.
“I am, you’re too sweet. I actually just got a job at Thadmore, Boyle & Lake,” I tell her, my tone like syrup. “I’m starting in September.”
“Ah! Congratulations, working girl,” she says with an icy brush of my arm. “Speaking of September, I’m having my annual Harvest Gala at the Ritz. Shall I put you down for a plus one?”
“— Hey, Liv, we’ll meet you inside, okay?” Lucy steps in, pointing to a club up the block where loud, untzing music pulses, purple lasers flashing.
“Right, well, don’t let me keep you from your, er, evening festivities,” Francie says, not even trying to keep the judgment out of her voice. “Let me know on your RSVP for the gala.”
I turn to go, seething inwardly, but my anger is not toward Francie. I’m angry at myself for acting like someone I don’t want to be anymore. Someone I never wanted to be.
I put my feather crown back on my head and march back, pulling on Francie by her cardigan-ed elbow.
“You know what, Francie?” I say when she whips around. “I’ll give you my RSVP now. First off, I don’t need a plus one, because I’m single and I know you know that. Second, I won’t be attending. Not because I have other plans, but because I don’t fucking want to go. I don’t actually know what I’m going to be doing next fall, but I’m not taking that job at Thudmore, Chode & Lick Me, or whatever the fuck it’s called. Thad,” I peer around her, “it wasn’t nice to meet you, and don’t count on any of Francie’s friends remembering you, because we all know you’re interchangeable.”
I turn back to Francie, blood pumping through my body, brave and alive in the night. “Feel free to go back and tell everyone that Olivia’s gone off the deep end and pretend to be worried for me. I’m going to go party with my friends and have the best fucking sex of my life for the rest of the summer. Enjoy your vacation.”
She still hasn’t closed her mouth by the time I turn on my heel and start to walk away.
It’s as though the next few steps ahead of me light up before my eyes. I can’t quite see where they’re leading, but I know enough to trust them. My whole life has been a series of following the paths that someone else had set me on, but this path is the one I choose myself.
And the first place it leads me is into the club, where my friends are dancing and Claire has a tequila shot waiting just for me.
Chapter Sixteen
Jake
The boat still hasn’t lost it’s glow from when Olivia was here. That night, this pile of wood and metal felt like an actual home instead of just a place to crash. Even though I’ve put in the work to refinish and redesign all of the cabinetry and the cabin interior, this boat never felt like mine in the way it did when I had her in my bed. I feel on edge in an entirely new way, now that I know it’s possible to feel that fucking good. Bacon felt the loss too, hopping off the boat as soon as he was fully recovered. I can
only assume he went in search of Olivia.
“Jake! Jake? Where are you? Jake?”
I try to squeeze my eyes closed harder and ignore the call, but it’s coming closer.
Waking up to Luca’s voice can’t compare to waking up with Olivia in my bed, in my arms. She was so warm and soft, her skin the scent of citrus and coconut cake. I want to cover my face with her pillow and take in her smell, drift back to my dream of thrusting into her deep.
“Jake? Are you in there?”
But Luca has never been one to give up easily.
With a groan, I roll out of bed, coming to the deck of the boat with just a towel wrapped low around my hips. “What is it?” I call back, yawning wide in the morning light.
“I brought you some more of your mail, and I ordered the parts so you can fix your boat!” Luca looks jubilant even with sweat shining on his brow, and I can see now that he’s struggling to haul a massive crate on a wheeled cart behind him.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Your order was still saved in my browser history from the other day when you used my computer, so I just placed it,” he says, breathing hard.
I pull on some clothes and jump down to the beach to meet him. “Luca, why did you do this? I said you didn’t have to pay me back. This is way more than you owed me anyway.”
“It’s my pleasure, Jake. You helped me out of a really tough spot, it’s the least I could do.” He’s as excited as a puppy, already working on pulling off the shipping labels.
But I remember how much this cost. And I remember how little Luca and his mother bring in, even on a good month. I don’t know where he got the money for this, but I don’t feel good about it. It’s with a sinking feeling that I have to ask, “So, how did it go with Talia? You told her you’re out of the drug business, right?”
“Uh, yes. I mean…for the most part,” Luca says, suddenly fixated on pulling out every individual staple marking the face of the crate, refusing to meet my eyes.
