by Opal Carew
Even Miguel seemed to thaw a bit. He ran his fingers over the glossy live-edge tabletops before sinking onto one of the stools arranged around it. It wasn’t hard to tell which place was his since his favorite top-shelf liquor was set out, ready and waiting for him.
Tosin’s and Archer’s, too.
Miguel grabbed the shot of Macallan whiskey and downed it in a single gulp before slamming the glass onto the table with a resounding clunk. He hadn’t had time to swallow before a well-dressed crew member appeared, seemingly from nowhere, with a refill.
When the man had disappeared once more, Archer sat too, his fingers picking at the edges of the folder Banks had left there for him. Where the hell did they start?
Miguel helped him out.
“So you fucking lied to us? You’re loaded? This whole time, were you looking down your nose at us? Laughing at how pitiful we were?” He crossed his arms, looking toward the exit as if he might dart out of there faster than a rainbow runner, leaving Archer blinking at the vanishing back of his friend.
His worst fears began to come true. He would be rejected, judged undeserving of his companions’ respect. Fucked over by his inheritance. If the only thing these two guys could see was his net worth, then no one else in the universe would do differently. They knew him better than anyone else.
Pain stabbed his chest. He rubbed the ache, but it didn’t fade.
The worst thing he could imagine was dying as alone as his father had been, accompanied only by bought sycophants.
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Tosin punched Miguel in the biceps. “He’s lived with us for twelve years. Roughing it. Having fun even when we didn’t have a lot else. Why don’t you let him tell us why? I would like to hear that.”
Fair enough. Archer nodded and swallowed hard.
When Miguel faced him again, curiosity in his gaze, Archer confessed, “I hated who I was. The lifestyle, the obligations, and the political maneuvering that left innocent victims in its wake.”
He scrunched his eyes closed as a particular face appeared in his mind. Raven hair down to her perfect ass, porcelain skin, and eyes as blue as the spots on the juvenile damselfish he’d stared at not very long ago.
His biggest regret.
The final straw that had sent him packing. “So I opted out of it all. Left. Became someone else entirely.”
“You’re saying you’re not an orphan like you told us forever ago. That’s why you never said a peep about home or your family. You’re a runaway.” Miguel wasn’t cutting Archer a lot of slack. The way he sneered runaway made it sound sort of like chicken shit. Or quitter. Two things they definitely didn’t respect and never had allowed themselves to be before.
Archer reminded himself that as much of a shock to his system it had been these past few weeks—imagining his life proceeding in an entirely different direction from what he’d planned—for these two, hearing these things would be the equivalent of taking a polar bear plunge into the Arctic after a decade of tropical swims.
They probably had no idea some people really lived like this.
Until you’d seen it yourself, it was impossible to really visualize.
At least that’s what he’d been told by Banks.
“It wasn’t exactly a lie. My father was dead to me. Or maybe I was reborn. I walked away when I was nineteen and never looked back. My father said he would disown me the instant I crossed his threshold. I thought he had. I didn’t care. About a month ago, he kicked the bucket and left me everything. So, now it is true. I am the last of my family. Before I’d only wished that was the case.”
“How can you say something so cold?” Miguel—who had lost his parents in an accident when he was eight and grown up in a group home in South America—glared at Archer as if he was more disgusting than the sludge that sometimes accumulated in the corners of their dive boat. “I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did.”
He stood in a rush, making his stool tilt precariously, then turned toward the door.
Until Tosin asked quietly, “What did your dad do to you to make you hate him? You don’t have a temper and I’ve never known you to hold a grudge.”
“He…” Archer cleared his throat and broke eye contact, staring out the window at the desert paradise he’d come to adore so much when the memories threatened to overwhelm him.
Sitting on his couch, not able to hear the knock on the door right away…staggering to the front door to find it was her. She’d come to him.
If only he hadn’t been so intoxicated, he might have noticed something was wrong.
If he’d been sober—and his father hadn’t been meddling in their lives—he might not have made such a grave and horrible mistake.
Despite the fact that his father deserved his rage, Archer hadn’t forgiven himself. Not for his failures as a son. And definitely not for falling for his father’s twisted scheme. He should have realized what was happening. Should have stopped before she got hurt.
“Fuck this. He’s never going to be straight with us. I’m out of here.” Miguel turned and strode toward the exit.
“Fine. Wait!” Archer couldn’t let him leave. Except the truth might make him run instead of walk. “He set me up. Conned me into raping someone.”
The words seared his windpipe as though they’d been made of stonefish venom.
There. He’d admitted it out loud for the first time. Ever.
Maybe that was the first step toward acceptance. Forgiveness would be too generous. He’d never grant himself that kind of absolution from his own self-recriminations.
“Say what?” Miguel turned around then, his head cocked. His bright eyes, such a contrast to his olive complexion and midnight hair, bored into Archer. “That doesn’t even make sense, dude. How can you accidentally rape someone? This isn’t even funny anymore. Did I hit my head underwater or something?”
Archer tried to explain. Nothing would come out through his raw throat. It was his turn to slam his drink and relish the fire it lit within him. He deserved the punishment. “He made me a monster. Just like him. A pawn in his power plays. I realized I couldn’t stay. What I’d done was bad enough. If I didn’t leave, I was going to become just like him someday. If it wasn’t too late already.”
He planted his elbows on the table then dropped his head into his hands, trying to ward off the revulsion his ex-best-friends would likely feel toward him now. He wouldn’t blame them.
“This is getting sicker and more twisted by the second,” Miguel snarled. “How can you still be sitting there, Tosin? Let’s go.”
Their joint friend looked from one guy to the other. Who would he side with?
Archer braced himself for them both to walk out.
“Calm down a second and think, Miguel.” Tosin urged the man to wait. “Don’t you remember the night we spent in that skanky Mexican jail for brawling?”
That had him pausing. Consciously or not, he edged a couple steps closer. “Yeah, because this moron got us tangled up in some domestic dispute.”
“Right. Does a real rapist stand up for a stranger who’s fighting off a dude, who clearly is not taking no for an answer, in a bar bathroom? Does he snap and beat the man to a pulp?”
Archer clearly recalled the flash of fury that had overtaken him in that instant.
“Maybe they do if they feel guilty about what they’ve done,” Miguel answered, his voice a lot softer now.
“I do. I regret what happened. Every day. Every hour. The woman I hurt… She’s spectacular. Special.”
“Why don’t you tell us the full story?” Tosin asked.
“I—can’t.” Archer shook his head. “The details don’t matter anyway. They would sound like excuses. I did it. I accept responsibility for it. But I wasn’t about to hang around and let anyone put me in those kinds of situations again.”
“I’m going to have to disagree on that point. I feel like you owe us the rest.” Tosin ruffled Archer’s hair briefly before polishing off his own liquor. �
��Someday soon. A less crazy day than today, tell us. I have a feeling we might see it differently. Seems like you could use a sounding board on this one.”
Archer dreaded that conversation, though he knew they’d have to have it.
Wait.
“Does that mean you’re planning on sticking around, then?” He could hardly breathe.
Tosin nodded, a faint smile curving his lips. “For over ten years, we’ve done everything together. Trusted each other. I know you, Archer. You’re not the person you obviously think you are. Right, Miguel?”
Archer risked a glance at his partner. The guy seemed unsure. With one foot out the door, he studied Archer’s face. Hopefully he could read the genuine remorse there. A lifetime of regret wouldn’t be enough to change what had happened that night, but he desperately wished it could.
Sometimes even a Scrooge McDuck-sized fortune couldn’t buy your way out of a problem.
Some things weren’t for sale.
Like forgiveness.
Or a time machine.
Or the faith of your two best friends.
Living with mistakes as awful as Archer’s could cost a man his soul.
“Shit!” Miguel ran his hands through his hair, then pivoted. Step by step, he returned. He fell onto the barstool, looking as deflated as Archer felt. “I’m gonna need another drink.”
No sooner had he said it than his wish came true.
The three guys glanced between each other, weirded out and enjoying the indulgence simultaneously.
“So basically, you came into a crap ton of money and decided to buy a megayacht and live out the rest of your life in luxury?” Tosin hummed. “Not a bad plan, really.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” Archer shrugged before opening the folder in front of him. “I had Banks draw up some contracts. I’d like you to read them. It should make everything clear.”
Already he sounded like the tool his father had always hoped he’d become. When stakes were this high, he supposed some formalities couldn’t be avoided. He handed each of his friends a copy of the agreement he hoped they’d sign.
Tosin skimmed his before asking, “You’re offering us a job? All that stuff we were joking around about on the beach. That’s what you actually intend to do, isn’t it?”
Archer nodded. “Yes. I’ve appointed Banks to be the executive director of the Banks Foundation. The sole purpose of the organization is to take my money and put it to good use. He asked me a ton of questions about things that are important to me, like women’s rights, abuse hotlines, transitional shelters, domestic violence awareness, those kinds of things. But also stuff like conservation, renewable energy sources, and clean drinking water initiatives. He’s figuring out how to address as many of those global issues as we can by creating charities dedicated to them and funding research by the world’s leading scientists in relevant fields.”
“What does that have to do with a megayacht? Is this the headquarters of the Banks Foundation or something?” Miguel asked, sounding truly interested for the first time.
“Not quite.” Archer shook his head. “Though Banks will be living onboard and he’s the head of the foundation, so…maybe. This is one of the Banks Foundation projects. Banks actually came up with it and talked me into getting personally involved. We’re calling it the Divemaster Project, for obvious reasons.”
“What exactly is the Divemaster Project supposed to do?” Miguel wondered.
“It’ll be just like we talked about earlier. A pretty cushy arm of the Banks Foundation. Deserving passengers will join us for a while at sea. We’ll foot the bill and try to tip the karma scales in their favor a little. Reward them for whatever it is they’ve done to not be assholes like some humans. Banks is taking care of the administrative shit. He’ll be sourcing the guests for us. Making all the arrangements for them. Managing the staff. We’d be mostly business as usual with a few extra perks. We’d live here and act as the divemasters on the Divemaster.”
“So we’d work for you?” Tosin’s brows drew together, causing some fine wrinkles to show on his forehead. “Not that I think you’d be a bad boss—”
“No. Stop, please.” Archer didn’t bother to let him finish. “Nothing changes between us. I want you to be my partners like always.”
Miguel, who paid the best attention to detail of the three of them, scanned the paper he’d accepted from Archer. He mumbled, “‘…eligible to purchase a one-third share of the Divemaster for the price of a single US penny.’”
Tosin’s jaw dropped.
Miguel continued, “‘With the stipulation that should you decide to terminate your stay onboard permanently, you’ll offer your share to the Banks Foundation for full market value before listing it for sale publicly.’”
“Archer, that’s nuts.” Arms flung wide, Tosin interrupted. “A third of this thing has to be at least—”
“Eighty-five million dollars, give or take. Probably more in a few years.” He shrugged. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by this lifestyle. That’s not what I want for either of you. If there comes a day you’re ready to get out, you’ll still be able to enjoy the things you’ll become accustomed to while staying here. Worst case would be if you hung around longer than you wanted to and came to resent me because of something as unimportant as money. You’re free to stay here forever…or go. At any time. I’d never lock you in.”
“Can I ask something rude?” Miguel leaned forward. He didn’t wait for permission before shooting out his questions. “Just how motherfucking loaded are you? And why does Banks have your name if you’re not related?”
Tosin didn’t blink as he waited for Archer to respond. He must have been wondering, too.
“Actually, I’ve got his name. He was our butler, although that doesn’t really convey everything he handled. You know, like raising me and shit. I borrowed it when I went incognito, hiding from my father. Every day, Banks showed me the kind of person I wanted to be like when I got the chance to make myself.”
He’d held himself to that standard. Except for violating that girl… He couldn’t let himself think of her now, though. That’s what nightmares were for.
“I should have realized that conniving bastard knew where I was all along. Anyway, on my birth certificate, my last name is Quartermane.”
“Like the software company?”
“Yeah. That’s where my father made most of his money. But I sold everything and put it in some kind of trust. Well, actually, Banks did it for me. I tried not to listen when he told me about it. All I care about is that this obscene amount of cash makes a positive impact. I don’t want anything else to do with it.”
Tosin looked like he’d gulped down a few lungfuls of seawater. “So, what you’re saying is…you’re a goddamned multi-billionaire?”
“More or less.” Archer shrugged. “If it was all sitting in my bank account it’d probably be five, six, maybe seven, billion depending on the day and the stock markets. I don’t plan to touch a cent other than what we’ve got in the yacht and her expenses. Banks assured me the essentials are more than taken care of by the interest on several long-term investments dedicated to the holding company that technically purchased the yacht, which we will also jointly own. Blah blah blah, whatever. Long story short, we can do this. Forever, if you guys don’t get sick of it. And if you do, you’re welcome to go try whatever else makes you happy instead.”
Tosin reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts. He slapped his hand onto the table, leaving a penny on top of Archer’s now-empty folder. “Reporting for duty.”
Together, Tosin and Archer looked at Miguel.
“I’ve just got one more question,” he sighed.
“What the hell could matter after all that?” Veins popped out in Tosin’s neck as he practically had a coronary. “Pull your head out of your ass and sign on the dotted line, fuckface. Do it now, or so help me I will come over there and do it for you.”
“Hear him out.” Archer put hi
s hand on Tosin’s shoulder and pressed steadily yet firmly. “It’s okay. What else do you want to know, Miguel?”
“Will you lend me a penny? I spent the last of my cash on that second helping back at the street-meat wagon.” For dramatic effect, he paused before adding, “I’m good for it. I swear.”
Laughter burst from Archer’s chest. It was either that or surrender to the burn behind his eyes. “For real? You’re coming, too?”
“You’re not going anywhere without me, bro.” Miguel held his fist out over the center of their table.
Tosin and Archer took turns bumping it before doing the same to each other.
They stared around, dazed, until Miguel said, “I can’t believe that really happened.”
“I’m still in shock myself.” Though the oily grime finally seemed to be dissipating from Archer’s guts some.
Eyes narrowed, Miguel growled, “When, exactly, did your dad pass away?”
“My guess, a month ago.” Tosin’s features regained some of his storminess. “This is what the fuck has been wrong with you. You’ve been freaking out. And you didn’t say a damn word.”
“I think that pisses me off more than you forgetting to mention you were a billionaire.” Disappointment cast a shadow on Miguel’s acceptance.
“I’m sorry.” It felt good for Archer to finally give them the apology they hadn’t known they’d deserved before. “I swear, from now on, no more secrets.”
Quick to anger, but faster to forgive, Miguel nodded. “So now what the fuck do we do?”
Tosin stood. “Yo, Banks, you out there somewhere?”
A few seconds later, he rejoined them in the bar with a flute of champagne in his hand. “Celebrations are in order, yes?”
“Yes,” Archer practically roared with relief.
“To the divemasters.” Banks drained his glass as well.
The three guys cheered for him.
“First order of business, I want that tour you promised, Banks.” Tosin slapped the older guy on the back, knocking him forward a little.
“I would recommend you boys go quit your jobs first.” The guy probably had a schedule etched into his brain. He would keep them organized. Thank God.
