Calamity Rayne: Gets A Life

by Lydia Michaels

  “Ten?” Why I guessed that number I have no idea.

  “Three hundred and eight-two.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tell me, how did you manage to stand out above the rest?”

  I have no fucking clue.

  Maybe it was the call to Naomi that led me to Hale Davenport. Perhaps he was some sort of momma’s boy who felt pressured by the mere reference to his mother. Or maybe he took the mention of her name as some sort of endorsement.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Your resume draws no attention. There has to be something, perhaps a cover letter that was misplaced?”

  “I didn’t send a cover letter.” All I’d sent was an email that said Thanks for taking my call with my resume attached.

  “And so the mystery continues. Very well. We’ll be leaving in two hours. Eric’s driving the others to the airport, but my son will drive you into town to get a few personal items, seeing as your luggage is missing.”

  Reeling, I sat back and let it all sink in. I got the job. I must have been in shock because that didn’t seem right. “Your son’s on the boat?”

  “He’s upstairs. You can help me to my room then go find him and get the essentials you’ll need for the next few days at sea.”

  Thank God, because I seriously needed some stomach medicine—and non-cotton clothing apparently. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Remington.”

  I smiled, thinking he wasn’t too bad. “Can I call you Remy?”

  “Not if you expect an answer.”

  Chapter Four

  Deathtraps and Davenports…

  Oh My!

  I helped Remington to his room on his nifty little scooter, which the doctors insisted he use for the next six weeks while his strength returned. He grumbled a lot about the inconvenience of having a broken foot—the reports were wrong when they said it was his leg—but he didn’t say much about the heart attack. Being betrayed by mortality really pissed a man like Remington Davenport off, so I talked to him about other subjects.

  He complained about the chill in the air, which I didn’t feel, so I suggested he get a Snuggie, but he’d never heard of such a thing.

  “It’s a blanket with sleeves, sort of like a backwards robe, but longer. I love my Snuggie.” Helping him ease onto his bed I situated the pillows so he’d be more comfortable.

  Winded, he rested against the headboard. “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You say that because you’ve never tried it. Snuggies are great. They free up your hands so you can still hold ice cream, but your body stays warm.”

  His gunmetal eyes met mine and held for a moment. “I’ll hold off while my dignity holds out. Hand me that laptop.”

  “This is nice,” I said, passing him the device. He didn’t comment. “Do you need anything else?”

  “There’s a pill bottle next to the sink in my bathroom. The blue pills, not the white ones. I need one of them and some water.”

  “Sure.”

  The bathroom was no joke. It was hard to believe I was actually on a boat because this was nicer than any room in my mom’s house. Filling a glass with tap water, I returned to the master suite with Remington’s pill.

  “Here you go.”

  “Not that shit. Get me a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.”

  Turning, I scanned the room but didn’t see a fridge.

  “The nightstand.”

  “Ah.” Popping open the wooden cabinet I found a mini refrigerator stocked with bottles. “What brand is this?”

  He unscrewed the bottle and leveled me with an assessing stare, giving the impression that he was second-guessing his decision to hire me. “You really don’t have a clue who you work for, do you, Meyers?”

  It was still sinking in that I got the job, so I shrugged.

  “Everesence is Davenport water. At least do a general Google search tonight, will you?”

  Figures he’d own his own water. The man had rights to almost all the necessities of the free-living world; water, petroleum, agriculture. What else was there? “I will. Anything else?”

  “That’s it. Be back in two hours and we’ll go over your duties before dinner. Hale’s probably on the sky deck.”

  Right. I’d just mosey on up there and give good old Hale a shout. Sure. He had nothing better to do than taking the help shopping.

  I’d offer to take a cab, but I didn’t have a clue where I was or where I should go to get clothes and toothpaste and such. Plus, my funds were limited, so I had to spend wisely. Cabs were out.

  “Okey dokey then.”

  “Meyers.”

  “Yes.”

  “Grown women don’t say okey dokey.”

  “Right. I’ll see you in two hours.”

  Finding one’s way around a boat wasn’t so easy when the boat was the size of a laser tag arena. I kept circling the same rooms and returning to the deck, but I couldn’t find my way to the sky deck.

  “What the effin’ hell? How do I get out of here?”

  “Lost?”

  As if a ghost ran a finger down my spine I stiffened, spun, and gasped. Thank God it wasn’t a sea ghost and was just Remington’s son. As I stared up at Hale Davenport’s eyes, I had a hundred realizations in the span of a millisecond.

  He was like a cross between The Professor from Gilligan’s Island and John Travolta, all young and delicious in Grease, but with lighter hair and Ralph Lauren clothes. And what in all that was holy was that delicious smell? It was like an aphrodisiac for ovaries. I wanted Ben and Jerry to make ice cream in that flavor so I could eat it. Women could catch a pregnancy just by looking at this guy. And finally, television really did him a disservice.

  He cleared his throat, drawing my out-of-body feminine rant to a halt, but once again words failed me. Twice, this man had rendered me speechless, and I had no clue why. This linguistic collapse was a new ailment and one I really feared might have been brought on by a secret stroke, the sort that happened when a person slept, and they don’t know it happened, but suddenly couldn’t remember common words like cereal or light bulb.

  “Cereal,” I muttered, just to be sure.

  “Pardon?”

  Shaking off my psychotic hypochondria, I pretended I was normal. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here. I was talking to myself.” Which happened a lot, but he wouldn’t know that, because my words didn’t work around him.

  We had a bit of a staring contest, which made me want to make funny faces so he’d blink first, but I couldn’t move. Why was he looking at me like that? And why did he look so different in person? It was definitely Remington’s older son because he was doing that stoic enema face again, but man, he was a thousand times more attractive—and intimidating—in person. He probably stole the show in a game of Hold ‘em. That was a serious poker face.

  “And you are?”

  What was my name again? “I’m Rayne, your dad’s new assistant.”

  Without tipping his head, his gaze did a quick onceover of my outfit. “Of course you are. The crew quarters are through the galley. Shove past that door and you’ll find your way.”

  I’d never truly watched a man speak, but when he spoke it was as if his lips caressed each syllable, made love to the nouns and did extremely naughty things to verbs like shove. Mmm… I bet he shoved real nice. I wanted him to say all sorts of dirty words like pull, tug, lick, and thrust. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I continued staring. Words would help. “That’s some fancy ship talk there, matey. What’s a galley?”

  Still no expression. Amazing. “It’s the service kitchen.”

  His skin was literally flawless, nice natural tan, shadows of hair in all the right places. Did he wax or were his eyebrows naturally that perfect? Focus!

  “Good to know about the kitchen, but I was actually looking for you. Remington said you could take me into town before we leave. My luggage was lost and I need a few things, but I don’t know where I�
�m going.”

  “Already on a first name basis.”

  His disapproving mumble jolted my brainwaves in the opposite direction as I got the slight impression this handsome, poker faced prep might not like me for some reason. “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.” He glanced at his watch, which was nicer than all of my jewelry put together. “You don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll be quick. I really appreciate you taking me.”

  “It’s what I’m here for apparently.” He turned, and I followed him through the narrow halls. Pocket doors! Duh!

  Hale knew his way around the yacht like someone who’d spent many days aboard. I tried to memorize every turn, but it was damn confusing. As big as it looked on the outside, it was a Mary Poppins purse on the inside. If I ever wanted to learn my way around I’d need to leave lipstick marks around this place like that chick in the movie Labyrinth.

  Once we were on the open deck, he picked up the pace. Being that Hale was a good foot taller than me, it took some work to keep up. By the time we reached the marina parking lot, I was huffing and puffing like an asthmatic woman in a child birthing class.

  A car alarm chirped and lights flashed. “That’s me.”

  “Wow. What kind of car is that?”

  “It’s a Wraith.”

  Never heard of it. “Oh. Right. I considered getting one of them, but my Honda’s so good on gas, I figured it’s better to stick with what I know.”

  His eyes, gunmetal gray just like his dad’s, appraised me for a moment as he stared over the roof of his coupe from the driver side door, but he didn’t smile. This one would be a tough nut to crack.

  The windows of the car opened and I jumped back as the little signature hood ornament erected on the front of the car. Whoa, space car.

  “Get in.”

  He disappeared, sliding behind the wheel while I was left staring at a door with no handle. “Um…”

  Reaching across the seat, he popped open the door, but it was backward. Freaking suicide doors. I didn’t know they still made them. While I didn’t know what a Wraith was, there was no mistaking the double R stitched into the headrest.

  Oh my Gawd! I was getting into a Rolls Royce! I could almost hear Robin Leach narrating my every move.

  Today on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, Oregon transplant, Rayne Meyers, embarks on a bright new world full of yachting and day trips along the coast of the Jersey shore. Hale Davenport, son of business billionaire, Remington Davenport, is escorting her in his six-figure Rolls Royce coupe to get tampons and deodorant. She’s setting up for a luxurious few months at sea!

  Okay, this was definitely the nicest car I ever sat in. Everything was polished wood and buttery white leather. It turned on with barely a vibration. Hale slid sunglasses over his eyes and suddenly we were moving. The ride was so smooth it was as if we were floating on steel rails.

  “How fast does this car go?”

  “Are you worried we won’t be back in time?” His mouth remained unmoved and his eyes were once again hidden behind the lenses of his glasses, so it was really tough getting a bead on his personality.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or just one of those dry people that didn’t know how to unclench. “Was that you making a joke?”

  His brow rose, but he made no comment.

  Easing onto the main road, his fingers flexed over the stitching of the leather wheel and my body sank a little deeper into the upholstery as the sleek vehicle picked up speed. Memories of riding the Gravitron at the county fair flashed through my mind as I reached for the seatbelt. My gaze skittered from the flash of road to the speedometer as the g-force actually pressed me into my seat.

  “Shit. Slow down.”

  “We’re barely moving.”

  The speedometer needle glided effortlessly over seventy as wind channeled through the strange windows. “Your ass, we’re barely moving. You’re going to get us killed!”

  “You asked how fast she could go.”

  “She? Your car’s a she?” The gauge passed one hundred and steadily continued climbing. “Oh, God, please slow down.” My fingers curled into the seat as he glanced at me while taking the car swiftly around a bend. “Don’t look at me! Look at the road!” This was how I was going to die.

  His attention turned back to the road and the car immediately slowed. Great. Now I was sweating, and my hair was officially destroyed just so Richie Rich over here could have his jollies. My fucking heart was going to explode.

  He glanced at me again and dropped down to the actual speed limit. “It’s okay.

  I wouldn’t have let anything happen.”

  I scoffed at the sheer stupidity of that sentence. “Oh, okay then. Hey, since you’re God and all, could you let Mary know that I said hi?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “You’re who my dad hired?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Terrifying a woman made him laugh, but the rest of the time he looked like he had a club up his ass. He was clearly a sadist.

  “I just assumed he’d go with someone a little more … seasoned.”

  “What am I, a steak? What’s seasoned mean?”

  “If you were seasoned you’d know.”

  Now I was really starting to dislike him. “How about we don’t talk anymore?”

  “Fine.” He shrugged with indifference.

  “Good.” Shutting my eyes, I willed my heart rate to settle and my muscles to unclench.

  When I wasn’t frightened for my life, the ride was actually quite luxurious. Trying to be sly, I angled my phone toward my feet and snapped a shot of the carpet with the double R sewn into the mat.

  “Did you just take a picture?”

  “No.” I hit send.

  “Yes, you did. I saw the flash.”

  “If I did, it was an accident.”

  His jaw muscle twitched, but he made no further comment. Stupid flash! Silencing the phone, I sent a text to Elle.

  Guess what kind of car I’m in!!!

  My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

  Did you get the job?!? And are you in a Rolls??? BTW you desperately need a pedicure. Seriously, ew, Ray. Take that polish off TONIGHT! It’s from St. Patrick’s Day!

  I forgot I still had that polish on. I sent a quick text back.

  Got job. The Other One is trying to kill me. More later…

  Shutting off my phone, I tucked it in my bag as the deathtrap rolled into a parking lot outside of a posh looking strip mall. Okay, where was Target?

  “You should be able to get everything you need here.” He exited the car and took me off guard as he rounded the front and opened my door.

  “Thanks.” Giving the door a quick glance, I still didn’t see the handle. I sized up my shopping options. “I’ll start at the pharmacy.”

  I hadn’t expected him to stick by my side the whole time, but apparently, that’s where he was sticking. As I wheeled the cart down the aisles, I stocked up on buffer items to camouflage my personal things. I stuffed a box of tampons under the Oreos and made a mountain of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash around the Midol and Pepto-Bismol. After grabbing a few hair ties and a bottle of moisturizer, I was set. We waited in line at the register, still not talking, which was fine.

  My gaze roamed over the counter as I debated picking up some chocolate when the tabloids stacked in front of the register caught my eye. I snorted, and Hale glanced down at me.

  “Your dad’s looking at us.”

  His brow creased in question, and I pointed at the cover of The Wall Street Journal. He rolled his eyes. Seriously, I’d never met someone with such impenetrable indifference.

  Wincing as the cashier totaled up my items, I swiped my card and mentally broke down my wardrobe necessities into the cheapest categories. When she slid the bags across the counter, I was left empty handed as Hale grabbed all three before I could get my hands on one.

  Okay then. He was totally carrying my tampons.

  A
fter dropping the bags off at the car, we visited a clothing store that I was almost certain took full responsibility for Laura Bush’s wardrobe. Nothing was denim and everything cost more than thirty dollars, including the neck scarves.

  “Does the boat have a washer and dryer?” I asked, sifting through the well-organized clearance racks for anything under twenty bucks.

  “The house crew handles that.”

  “They wash your clothes?” Even underwear? Shouldn’t I offer dinner and a movie before we got that personal?

  He nodded and I figured so long as there was some sort of laundry system in play I wouldn’t need much, which was a bonus. I could wash my undies in the sink until I got to know the other employees better. Or maybe they only washed the Davenport’s clothes and I was one of the help, therefore, I would be in charge of my own stuff. That was actually the more comforting option.

  In order to be thrifty, I stuck with black items only. This allowed me to mix and match without looking too unprofessional: two pairs of black crop pants, three black polo shirts, one bra, and four pairs of panties. And there went my savings.

  I prayed the entire time at the register that my account wouldn’t be overdrawn in front of Hale. Luckily, everything went through.

  “You’re the woman who spoke to my mother,” he said, breaking the silence on the drive back to the marina.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know how else to apply for the job.”

  “Why this job?”

  Shifting, I tried to read him, but the sunglasses were back on, and his attention was devoted to the road. “What do you mean?”

  “Is it him?”

  “Who, Remington?”

  He nodded. “Certain women will do anything they can to get close to him.”

  I chuckled. “I’m not that sort of woman. I’m only interested in the job.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My brow lowered as I studied him. He’d been awfully polite while shopping, holding doors and carrying my bags, but I couldn’t shake the sense that he didn’t like me.

  “Are you asking if I’m attracted to your dad?”