The Beautiful and the Wicked

by Liv Spector

  But there were exceptions. Somehow Ben and Asher seemed to be exempt from this upstairs-­downstairs divide. Ben, at that very moment, was out sailing with Jack, Paul, Thiago, Esperanza, the senator and his wife, and Daniel Poe. Granted, Ben was probably the one doing the heavy lifting on the sail, but he was clearly higher in the pecking order than Lila. She’d never seen him grovel, and at Jack’s party last night, he was a guest, not a server.

  And then there was Asher.

  His role was that of the good-­time guy on the yacht, the man responsible for making sure everyone was having fun. A deep-­sea diver, surfer, certified personal trainer, and self-­declared “dude” and “party animal,” with looks that made both young and old women swoon, Asher was the perfect man for the job. But today, out on the deck with Josie, as he blended her a steady stream of piña coladas, he seemed much more reserved than usual. As he busied himself behind the bar, he kept his eyes mostly on his work of cutting up limes and polishing the barware. Every once in a while Lila saw that he would let his eyes drift toward the mostly naked Josie stretched out before him.

  And Josie was paying him no mind, though Lila could tell she was enjoying his watching her.

  While the strange psychosexual drama between Asher and Josie played out, the crew moved around busily, like squirrels readying for winter. The deckhands were washing, polishing, and shining every inch of the gigantic yacht, in the constant battle between man and the corroding effects of salt water. And Lila and Sam, having finally finished cleaning the staterooms and en suite bathrooms, were stocking the pool area with freshly laundered Frette towels. When Lila bent down to remove the empty piña colada glasses sitting on Josie’s copy of Being and Nothingness, Josie gave her a smile.

  “Don’t work too hard, Nina,” she said. “Your name is Nina, isn’t it?”

  “It’s Nicky, miss.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, Nicky. You should join me here. The weather is too perfect to waste it working. I mean, look around. It’s totally gorgeous. And I’m dying of boredom.”

  “But you’ve got Asher here to keep you company.”

  “Oh, him,” Josie said as she turned over on her stomach. “He’s no fun at all.”

  Lila looked at the two of them. They were both acting bizarrely. Maybe, it dawned on her, they were sleeping together and trying to hide it? She couldn’t be sure, but something was definitely going on. As she walked away from the pool area, she ran into Sam by the stairs.

  “Do you think there’s anything happening between Josie and Asher?” Lila asked in a whisper.

  “Happening? Like, what, are they fucking?” Sam asked.

  Lila nodded.

  “Definitely not,” Sam said with more assurance than Lila thought was warranted, but after all, Sam had apparently hooked up with Asher. She had her reasons to be blind to what she didn’t want to see. “He’s been working for the Warrens for the last five years. She’s more like a kid sister to him. Why? Did you see something?”

  “Not at all,” Lila said carefully. Sam was clearly jealous. “Just forget I said anything.” Happy to change the subject, she said, “Hey, I know Slaughterhouse told you to take Liss his lunch, but let me do it.”

  “Are you serious?” Sam asked. “Because if you are, that would be amazing. Have you heard him today? He’s been yelling on the phone like a madman. I think I may have heard furniture breaking.”

  Liss’s fight with Jack this morning had Lila’s wheels turning. She had known there were tensions between the two, but she’d had no idea how bad it was. It was clear that Liss wanted Jack’s job.

  The real question was, after years of suffering Jack’s derision and abuse, would Liss consider killing for the top spot at the company?

  “I’ll take him his lunch. Don’t worry,” Lila said. “But if I don’t make it out alive, I hope you feel bad about it for the rest of your life.”

  “Highly doubtful.” Sam flashed a relieved smile.

  When Lila entered the galley, she once again found a scowling Chef Vatel holding a plate out for her.

  “I come from Paris to sit in some American backwater cooking chicken fingers for this fucking oaf? I don’t think so.”

  “Just think of the paycheck, Chef,” Lila said as she quickly grabbed the tray and walked away. One furious man per day was enough for her. “That’s what the rest of us are doing.”

  The moment she stepped into the hallway on the third deck, she could hear Liss. His authoritative and bullying voice was impossible to ignore. Her hands gripped the tray as she listened.

  “Yes, Urs, the Q3 numbers aren’t where we want them to be. That’s a given. We haven’t had the most robust quarter, but that’s because of necessary expenses related to our sector-­wide expansion. We’ve still got work to do. The Justice Department needs to approve our acquisition of Peregrine Software. That’ll be forthcoming. We’re currently working closely with Senator Clarence Baines, who’s head of the Senate Judiciary Committee overseeing this matter.”

  So, that’s why Clarence Baines was receiving the five-­star treatment, Lila thought. Jack entertains him on his fancy boat and introduces him to the types of ­people who write big checks for his upcoming reelection campaign. In exchange, Baines pushes the Peregrine acquisition through the Justice Department. Classic quid pro quo.

  “No, we won’t get nailed on it. We do things different here in America. Business and government can work together.”

  Lila politely rapped on Liss’s door.

  “Come in,” he bellowed.

  She slipped into his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, but her foot loudly crunched down on something. She had just flattened an empty can of diet chocolate fudge soda. Liss, who was back to yelling into his phone, shot her a look of death. He covered the receiver with his hand and hissed, “I’m on an important fucking call. Put the fucking tray down. And close the fucking door behind you on your way out.”

  He continued talking on his phone as Lila crossed the room to deliver his lunch. “Yes, I’m with you. Jack should’ve been on this call. If you put up bad quarterly numbers and the CEO isn’t there to reassure investors, then ­people start to buck. They put their money elsewhere. Jack knows all this, but he just doesn’t goddamn care. And between you and me, I’ve fucking had it with him. I didn’t sign up to be the dark cloud to some middle-­aged baby who thinks life is just an endless stream of perfect tits, drinks with Bono, and sailing his fucking boat.”

  After Lila delivered the tray, she slowed down her pace, picking up dirty clothes and discarded plates in order to hear more of the conversation. Then she felt something hit her in the head. She looked down and saw a half-­eaten and heavily buttered dinner roll at her feet. Liss had thrown it at her. She looked up at him, seeing only fury in his eyes.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out,” he silently mouthed to her, careful to overenunciate each word so she understood him. Knowing her time was up, she quickly exited the room, closing the door behind her. But she lingered in the hallway, pressing her ear against the door. She needed to hear the rest of this conversation.

  Liss continued, “Several board members have come to me directly, including you, Urs, to talk about the Jack situation. So, I’ll be sending out an internal memo to all the members of the board that outlines my concerns with how Warren Software is being run and addresses ways in which I propose to fix these problems. It’ll be in your in-­box later this afternoon. They say that different times call for different leaders, and this is one of those times. Needless to say, all of this dialogue must not include Jack.”

  It sounded to Lila like Seth was trying to stage a corporate coup d’état. And he was trying to get the board of directors on his side, starting with whoever this Urs guy was. Lila knew that after Jack’s death, Liss had been named interim CEO of Warren Software, and then confirmed as the permanent CEO fourteen months later. Plenty of ­people h
ad killed for less.

  Lila needed two things. First, she had to get her hands on the secret memo Liss was going to send to the board of directors. Second, she needed to find out more about Urs. She headed down to the lower level, anxious to get started on these new leads. But just as she was about to head into her room, she heard the chief stewardess call her.

  “Nicky, just where in bloody hell do you think you’re going?”

  “I just needed to—­”

  Edna cut her off. “You just needed to fetch Ms. Warren some lunch. That’s what you just needed to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lila said. Then she began her forced march up to the main deck to see what vegan delicacy Josie wanted for lunch. But the girl wasn’t by the pool. And there was no sign of Asher either. When she asked Sam, who was busy steaming some of Elise’s Dior blouses, where Josie was, she just shrugged and said, “I am not that spoiled slut’s keeper,” before resuming her work.

  Lila made a quick sweep of the yacht, checking the dining room, Josie’s stateroom, the den, the TV room, the spa, the gym, and then headed up to the sun deck, at the very tippy top of the boat. And that’s where she saw a topless Josie sitting back in the hot tub with her eyes closed, holding a large red bong.

  Lila cleared her throat, but Josie didn’t open her eyes. Then she said, “Ms. Warren. I’m checking if you need anything for lunch.”

  Josie nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Lila’s voice. She looked around nervously. She dropped the bong in the roiling water and climbed out of the tub like a guilty puppy caught eating a shoe.

  Dripping wet, she wrapped a towel around herself. Her bloodshot eyes were darting around the boat as she shivered ever so slightly, despite the heat. All the way up at the top of the giant yacht, with a worried look on her face and her tiny arms pressed at her sides to keep the towel on tight, she looked a lot younger than her twenty years.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Warren.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I get you anything for lunch?” Lila asked again.

  “Oh, lunch?” Josie said, as if she’d never heard the word before. “Lunch. Yes! Yes, you’re right. I’m actually really hungry.” She lunged at Lila and locked her in a very wet embrace. “Thank you so much. Lunch, exactly.”

  “What would you like me to bring you?” Lila asked, trying to suppress a smile.

  “Oh, my God. I could never decide. I’ll, like, follow you down to the kitchen and just see what’s there, okay?” the girl asked.

  After they made their way to the galley, Josie prowled around peering in the refrigerators and pantries, wearing nothing but the bottom half of her skimpy string bikini. Upon seeing her, Chef Vatel fled the scene faster than you could say “Merde!” His sous chef, who was a lot more interested in the presence of a half-­naked heiress in the kitchen, had to be dragged out by the muttering chef, who had been around long enough to know that when trouble comes in the door, you get out as fast as possible.

  A voracious vegan is a hard customer to please, but after she located some coconut-­milk ice cream, a jar of pickles, and hummus with pita, Josie stood at the counter, gulping it all down. “Okay,” Lila said. “Now that you’re settled, I’ve got to go.” She had a lot more important things to do than watch Josie cram food into her stoned face.

  “Noooo,” Josie pleaded. “You have to stay with me. I can’t be here by myself.” She paused, giving Lila a long, concerned look. “You aren’t going to tell my parents about the pot, are you?” She paused to devour an entire pickle. “Oh. My. God. That’s soooo good.” She looked at Lila again. “I mean, hear me out, it’s not for my sake. I don’t give a good fuck. It’s Asher that I worry about. I got the pot from him and I don’t want him to get in any hot water.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Oh, goody!” Josie squealed. “I knew you were a keeper. But can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Lila said hesitantly, interested to see where this was going.

  “Why are you working on this dumb yacht?”

  “It’s a job, I guess.”

  “But doesn’t it make you sick? All the wealth. All the bullshit. I mean don’t we make you sick?”

  “Seems pretty nice to me.”

  An exasperated groan erupted from Josie’s mouth. “No one gets it. Okay, like, I grew up around this wealth, so it’s all I’ve known. But ever since I started at Wesleyan, I’ve seen a totally different side of life. A nonrich side, and it is sooo much better. It’s like ­people only see what they want to see. They see the boats and the clothes and the planes and the jewels.”

  “Well, those things are hard not to see.”

  Josie continued talking. “But what no one seems to see is how miserable all this stuff makes ­people.”

  “Like your parents?” Lila asked, though she immediately regretted the question, worried she had pushed too far. She knew saying the wrong thing on the yacht was much more dangerous than setting the breakfast table incorrectly. She was in a world full of unspoken rules, and breaking even the smallest one could cost her the entire mission.

  Luckily, Josie was happy to talk shit about her parents. “Yes! Exactly! Just like them. My parents are the two most miserable ­people I’ve ever met. I mean, first off, my dad can barely stand my mom. If you really watch him, you’ll notice he almost never looks or speaks to her. It took me years to realize it! And today’s a perfect example: he’s off on some new boat with everyone except my mom.”

  “And you.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But that was my choice. If he was actually nice to my mom even once, I think we’d all die of shock.”

  “And where exactly is your mom today?” Lila was hoping the least Josie could do was shed some light on the mysterious disappearance of her number one suspect.

  “Where do you think? A bit of shopping followed by yet another trip to Dr. Menzin’s office for some fine tuning.”

  “Dr. Menzin?”

  “He’s only the premiere plastic surgeon of South Beach. For my twenty-­first birthday, I’m thinking of having my nose and my chin done. Don’t you think? It’s like, thanks for the DNA, Dad! I mean, my mom’s a famous model and I look like my goddamn father. As if life wasn’t already disappointing enough.”

  Lila remained silent. There was no right way to answer.

  “But,” Josie continued as she shoveled some hummus into her mouth, “I don’t know why she even bothers. It’s not like my dad notices. When it comes to him, she might as well be invisible. I mean, what does he care if her she’s got new cheek implants or whatever? I can’t understand why they stay together.”

  “Maybe it’s for you?” Lila offered, not believing it at all, but despite herself, she felt bad for Josie.

  “Ha. Highly unlikely. They’re too selfish for that. I think my mom wants to turn the marriage around. And my dad tries just as hard to be as far away from her as possible. The fact that they’re locked on this boat together for weeks will be interesting. It’ll be a miracle if they both make it out alive.” Lila noticed that Josie had a large dollop of hummus hanging at the corner of her cheek.

  “Alive? Really?”

  A big snorting laugh burst out of Josie. “Omigod, no. Haven’t you ever heard of, like, hyperbole?” she asked, clearly proud to use one of her SAT words. “I was exaggerating, you know?”

  Just then the sound of an enormous crash rained down upon them from overhead followed by a riot of shouting voices.

  “What the hell?” Josie said as she turned her bloodshot eyes up to the ceiling.

  “Wait here. I’ll go see what’s happening.” Lila practically leaped out the door, pleased to finally have a reason to extract herself from this less than illuminating conversation. Josie shrugged and began searching the fridge for more food.

  The cacophony continued as Lila walked up to the
main deck, where she found several men in brown polyester delivery uniforms standing around a giant wooden crate gesticulating wildly while yelling over each other. The crate was about eight feet long with its “This End Up” arrow very much pointing down. The men were arguing about the best way to right it.

  “Excuse me,” Lila said. The men ignored her as two of them crouched at one end of the box and, with great strain, began to lift it up. “Can I help with something?” She tried once more, but no one looked at her. Frustrated, she hollered, “STOP! Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  The men were finally silenced. A squat, muscular guy with a heavy, dark unibrow turned to Lila. “Yeah. Sorry about all the noise. We got a package here for, um . . .” He paused to check his paperwork. “For Daniel Poe. He around?”

  “No, but I can sign for it.”

  “Sure. Whatever works for you.” It was clear he wanted to be rid of this delivery as soon as possible. “But be careful. It’s heavy. You sure you don’t want my guys to put it somewhere?”

  “It’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Now that the business at hand was done, the deliveryman seemed to instantly relax. “Pretty classy boat you got here,” he said as he took in the undeniable excess and grandeur of The Rising Tide. “How much would one of these set you back?”

  Lila said, “Around five hundred million bucks.”

  Each of the delivery men let out a howl or whistle of some kind.

  “Yeah,” Lila said, “exactly.”

  As they were leaving, she saw a black Cadillac Escalade pull up to the end of the dock. After several minutes of idling, the driver got out to escort a very wobbly Elise Warren back to the yacht. Lila saw Mrs. Slaughter rush up from the lower level to greet her. But before the chief stewardess left the yacht, she turned back to Lila. “Listen to me,” she said with great solemnity. “Straightaway go and get four ounces of tequila on the rocks, with a good squeeze of lime, ten ice-­cold cucumber slices, and grab a packet of gauze from the first-­aid kit and go soak it in the chamomile tea that I left in the galley fridge. Can you remember all that?”