Yacht Girl

by Alison Claire Grey

  Today, she would be someone she hadn’t been in a long time.

  “Marion,” Meg said. “I’m going to ask you to leave. And then I’m going to ask you to do something else.”

  “Fine, if you must,” Marion said, her haughtiness making the next part easy.

  “Marion, I’m going to ask you to kindly kiss my ass,” Meg exhaled what she knew would be her final words to this woman. “And like my sister said, do not come back. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

  Meg turned then and walked away before Marion could say another word.

  Meg rarely cared about getting the last word in, but today was the exception. Today, she would not allow Marion a smidgen of an opportunity to respond.

  And with that, it was time to take Jessa to school.

  Eleven

  No one said anything when Meg climbed into the driver’s seat.

  They knew better.

  Meg didn’t want to give Dee any sort of satisfaction or any room to misinterpret her firing Marion as having her sister’s back. Truth was, she was furious with Dee for stepping into Meg’s role, a role Dee did not deserve and had not worked for.

  Marion’s firing would have repercussions, something Dee had no idea about. Marion’s brother was Mack Gentry; a powerful man and name in these parts, the kind of man you wanted to avoid getting on the bad side of. He was the only reason Meg’s father had put up with Marion as long as he had. He’d hired Marion as a favor and it had been understood her employment and her shift requests would be honored in exchange for something that only Meg and Dee’s father seemed to understand. All Meg knew was that it was significant if it forced them to deal with Marion despite her many flaws and offenses.

  And now Meg had screwed that up. All because of Dee and her big, stupid mouth.

  “Jessa,” Meg finally spoke as they pulled onto Highway 98, a mile from Jessa’s high school. “Don’t forget you have Latin Club after school. Paula is going to pick you and Harper up and drop you at the house when it’s done.”

  “I know,” Jessa said.

  “Do you have your key?”

  “Yes. Won’t you be there?”

  Meg pursed her lips together. “No, I’m working mid-day shift today. Also, I fired Marion, which means Rita will probably quit and that means I need to hire at least one person to replace them. And soon. So, no, I won’t be home until late.”

  When they reached the school, Jessa leaned in to hug her mother. The hug was extra-long, which Meg needed. Jessa must have known this.

  “I love you, Mom.” Jessa whispered in her ear. “Also, I’m glad you fired Marion. That’s all I’ll say, promise.”

  Meg smiled and kissed Jessa’s cheek. “I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Meg watched Jessa skip down the sidewalk, winding her way through the herds of teenagers walking toward the school, almost all of them looking at smartphones, a bunch of adolescent zombies.

  Dee stayed stone-silent in the back of Meg’s car.

  Meg didn’t say anything the entire five-minute drive home, not until they pulled into the driveway. She took pleasure in making Dee uncomfortable— relished in this power she’d never had before when it came to her sister.

  “Get some sleep,” Meg said as she put the car in park. “Jessa will be home around five so enjoy the quiet while you can.”

  “Meg…” Dee’s voice shook. “Thank you for firing Marion.”

  Meg turned to look at Dee.

  “You think I did it for you?”

  Dee shook her head. “No, of course not.”

  “You think I’m weak for not firing her sooner,” Meg continued. “Just like you probably think Dad was for hiring her. But here’s something you don’t understand Dee: you don’t know me. You don’t know this town, or how it works. You don’t know Marion. You have no idea what I’m going to deal with now. And you don’t care. You wanted to be heard more than you wanted anything else. And you spoke for me as if you have any clue. Well, you don’t.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Dee guffawed. “She’s a horrible person. I don’t need to know her to know that. The way she talked about her granddaughter…”

  “I’m not defending her,” Meg interjected. “I’m pointing out that it was more complicated than you understood. I asked you to stop and you kept going. Because you don’t care, Dee. All that matters is what you want and what you think and what you decide. Well, not here. Not anymore.”

  “If Dad left me half the motel I do get to decide,” Dee asserted, but Meg could hear the tremble in her voice.

  “Oh yeah?” Meg asked. “Well, it takes two. We can’t sell the motel until we both agree to work together. And right now, it’s not worth it to me. If it wasn’t for Jessa, I would laugh in your face as I drove away. I don’t need a million dollars to be happy, Dee. I’m not you.”

  They both sat in silence for what seemed like a long time.

  “I’m only willing to do this if it’s on my terms,” Meg continued. “I’ve been running this place and doing the grunt work while you’ve been doing whatever it is you do. You have no decision-making power. You are a silent partner who does what I say and nothing more or less. If you can’t do that, I’m out. And without me, you get nothing.”

  “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?” Dee sputtered back as she opened the car door.

  “None of it,” Meg spat back. “Not a single minute.” Dee slammed the door shut. Meg threw the car into reverse, but before she left she rolled down her window and shouted out at Dee who stood forlorn in the wild grass of Meg’s front yard, as if she was unsure of whether she should go inside or not.

  “I was much happier 24 hours ago when I didn’t know where you were,” Meg said. “Whenever you show back up, everything goes to crap.”

  Before Dee could respond, Meg was already backing out of the driveway and, like she’d felt with Marion, uninterested in anything else her sister had to say.

  Twelve

  Dee rattled the set of keys Meg had given her to get into the house. The door stuck a bit as she forced it open with her shoulder, but she finally got in and immediately walked to the guest room and collapsed on the bed.

  She stared up at the ceiling fan as it whirled above her. Years of memories, regrets, and thoughts eddied around the inside of her tired mind. Dee shook them away for now. It wasn’t the time to dwell on Meg’s cruel words.

  Anyway, Dee knew she deserved them.

  Dee was sure that as soon as she closed her eyes she’d be asleep for at least twelve hours.

  She felt like she hadn’t slept in days.

  Or even months.

  Dee rolled over onto her stomach and shut her eyes tight, hoping the tears wouldn’t come this time.

  At least she was alone now. It was okay to cry and let it out. It would make it easier to play it cool later around Jessa and Meg, so they wouldn’t suspect she was on the cusp between keeping it together and a serious nervous breakdown.

  Jessa would feel for her. Meg would feel nothing.

  Dee had long run out of chances when it came to her sister.

  The Beckett sisters had once been as close as sisters could get without being the same person. They were Irish twins— born only eleven months apart.

  Meg was the oldest and fit that label in all the most typical ways— she was more responsible, reliable, and steadfast. The two girls had enjoyed a wild youth together, but Meg was the one who always made sure they didn’t get into too much trouble.

  Dee was the beauty. Not that Meg wasn’t beautiful too, but Dee had the kind of beauty that otherwise only seemed to exist in magazines. And she’d always known it, which was why most people hated her for it.

  It was one thing to be beautiful, it was another thing to be aware of it.

  Dee sat up. She observed her reflection in the mirror that rested against the wall in front of the bed. She barely recognized herself.

  Dee Beckett was thirty-eight years old and looked every inch of it. Her once platinum bl
onde hair was brassy and dark. The shine was gone, and it looked lifeless and thin without her extensions. The lines around her eyes and mouth were deep (at least to her) since she’d been unable to afford fillers or Botox for almost a year.

  There was no hiding from who she really was now.

  Not that most men wouldn’t have gladly done just about anything for just one night with her. Dee knew this all too well. But she also knew she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the room anymore, not these days. Her 30s had hit her hard; all of the hard-living and mistakes from her 20s caught up at once.

  Dee flopped back down on the bed. She’d dyed her hair in a restroom back in Tulsa on her way here. She’d hoped with a new hair color and sunglasses she’d be able to escape recognition, but now she felt silly. No one remembered who she’d once been. That’s how these things worked— you were famous when you were famous, but after that? Dee knew it didn’t take long at all to be forgotten.

  Over fifteen years ago she’d run away from this town to try to prove she was worth something. But Hollywood is a bad place to try to improve your self-worth, maybe the worst place of all. It had fooled her for a while of course, but in the end, Hollywood had proven she’d been right her whole life.

  Dee Beckett wasn’t worth much at all. She was just another pretty face among a sea of pretty faces. To think otherwise had been foolish.

  She missed being Delilah Goodacre. She hadn’t been that version of herself in over a decade. Once she’d been fired from “The Good Cop” she’d flailed a bit, auditioning for movie roles and trying desperately to get her agent to pay attention to her until he fired her through a text message on his assistant’s phone.

  And then there’d been the interview on the late-night show where she’d had the nervous breakdown. Once that happened, no one wanted anything to do with her. Even reality TV producers, always in need of famous or once-famous people to fill casts for various programs, weren’t interested.

  She couldn’t blame them.

  So, she’d become Dee Beckett again and ploughed through the savings and residual checks from the show and some commercials she did earlier in her career, in no time. The money seemed to slip through her eager hands like water from the Gulf.

  And then one day someone (it was strange that she couldn’t remember who now) asked her if she’d ever considered being a “friend” to the rich and powerful men who were constantly looking for more arm candy; the ones who owned the yachts in the Med and the Caribbean, the ones who controlled the people who had controlled Dee. They weren’t just high-powered agents or directors, these were men who owned the studios, owned the corporations and media empires.

  “Get in good with them and maybe you can get your career back.”

  That’s what Dee had heard.

  Maybe she could be Delilah Goodacre again, after all.

  She’d been so desperate to believe in something again, to find a religion and a purpose, one that could bring her back to where she’d been before.

  So, Dee had done what she had to do. It wasn’t the same as being an escort or a prostitute. She wasn’t expected to do anything she didn’t want to do, that’s what she was told.

  But even she’d known better than to believe that.

  It was referred to as “yachting” and it could pay big. And the only qualification was to be beautiful. Charming too.

  And of course, the most important thing in Hollywood— able to keep the secret.

  Thirteen

  Dee remembered how she’d heard about yachting, now that she was letting the memories rush back to her. It had been her manager, April Randolph, the only person on her team who hadn’t run away from her after her career went right into the toilet.

  “Tons of actresses do it on the side,” April had explained over lunch in Glendale one sunny LA afternoon. “It’s kind of this unspoken thing, but it’s so common. Honestly, it’s been going on since the beginning of time in this business. You’d be surprised. I mean, rumor has it that’s how a certain American met a certain Swedish prince.”

  “No!” Dee had said, putting down her fork. She’d ordered a house salad because it was the cheapest item on the menu, just in case April didn’t handle the check. “Jennifer Jasper?”

  Jennifer Jasper had been a solid B-list actress on a fledgling cable show before she’d hit the big time as Sweden’s own Prince Oliver’s girlfriend, turned fiancée. No one had understood how they could have possibly even met.

  “I mean allegedly,” April replied as she chewed her falafel. Dee was almost drooling at the thought of how delicious it must taste. “But that’s how a lot of these powerful men meet their wives. It’s very Pretty Woman, isn’t it?”

  Dee’s mind was spinning at the revelation.

  “So, all I have to do is lay around on a yacht all day?” Dee asked, skeptical that anything could be this easy.

  “In a bikini,” April added, pointing the tine end of her fork at Dee. “And of course, I’m guessing they’ll want more, but you’re not expected to do anything you don’t want to. These men are charming and have a harem at their disposal, mind you. But if you want repeat business or invites… I mean, you’ll figure it out. And they love when someone is even a little bit famous. Your fee will be higher than your average aspiring doe-eyed actress from Nebraska. Even at your age.”

  Dee winced. Only in LA was she considered old and used-up when she was barely past her mid-20s.

  “So how do I get connected with someone?” Dee inquired. “Can you handle it?”

  “Of course!” April’s mood brightened up almost immediately and Dee knew it was because no one loved a commission check more than April. “Standard fee applies. Ten percent.”

  “Definitely fair,” Dee sighed. “I’m just nervous. You’re sure this is common? It won’t mess up my chances of making a comeback?”

  “I’m more than sure,” April said. “That’s what I love about this business. No matter how far you’ve fallen, everyone loves to see you climb back up. It’s America’s favorite story— a second chance.”

  Fourteen

  As Meg drove away from the house she glanced up one last time to see Dee smacking her shoulder against the front door to let herself in and felt slightly guilty about her cruel words.

  But then she remembered what Dee had almost cost her— cost all of them— and her guilt was quickly replaced with derision. This is what her sister was trying to do. She wanted Meg to feel bad for her.

  It would never work.

  Anyway, Meg couldn’t think about Dee today. Now that Marion was gone, she had some major hitches to conquer. Rita would most certainly quit in protest. It had even been mentioned many times that the duo was a package deal.

  And then there was Mack, Marion’s brother.

  He would certainly not be happy that Meg had fired his sister.

  Meg was tempted to pick Jessa up from school and drive them straight out of town and into a new life. Dee could have the motel and all the tribulations and troubles that came with it. She could deal, and Meg could do what she’d always wanted to do.

  Meg Beckett could be the sister who got to run away.

  But Meg didn’t run away, of course. At the end of the day, that wasn’t who she was.

  Meg was the sister who stayed.

  As she parked her Camry in the spot across from the front office, she could see Rita inside talking to one of the snowbirds. Meg recognized him as Melvin and she was glad to see a familiar face.

  The glass door jingled as Meg walked in, getting Rita’s attention immediately.

  Melvin grinned. He was shirtless, of course and wearing a pair of Bermuda swim trunks, his thick belly spilling over the waistband.

  “Hitting the beach already?” Meg asked as Melvin extended his stout arms out for an embrace, one Meg was happy to give him.

  “We don’t waste any time!” he proclaimed, proudly. “Was just talking to Rita here. She says Marion doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “As of thi
s morning, she does not,” Meg nodded, not looking at Rita, though she could feel her staring at Meg in contempt. “I’m hoping Rita stays on despite this.”

  “You know I can’t, Meg,” Rita huffed. “And I have to say, I’m surprised you fired someone you’ve known for so long, someone who has been a trusted employee— “

  “Let’s not go that far.” Meg’s voice was clipped. “Marion has kept this job as long as she has because my father was willing to put up with her and her outspoken opinions, even though they alienated so many guests and co-workers. She went too far today. If you can’t understand that, Rita, then the choice is yours. You are free to leave, not that I want you to. But I’m not letting my employees dictate how I run a business that’s been in my family for over 60 years.”

  Both Rita and Melvin stared at Meg, slack-jawed.

  This wasn’t like her, after all. Meg was the one who always tried to keep the peace, who tried to see both sides of an issue. But Marion had stuck in her craw for long enough.

  “Bravo,” Melvin said, clapping his hands. “That’s right, Meg. You run this ship. And you decide who’s on your team.”

  Rita wasn’t as impressed.

  “Well,” she grumbled. “I hope you understand I cannot continue working here without Marion. That’s always been made very clear.”

  “That’s fine,” Meg replied. If Rita was looking for begging, she was about to be sorely disappointed.

  “I see,” Rita continued. “I will finish my shift today, but I will not be coming back after my days off.”

  “I expected as much,” Meg sighed. “Now, if you don’t need me, I’m going to be in my office. Melvin, good to see you.”

  Rita’s mouth opened as if she wanted to say something else, but Meg didn’t bother to stop and listen. She opened the door to the office that had once been her father’s and she got to work.