The Frenchman's Bride

by Imani King

  The bridge remained extended, as the crew changed over. Struck by interest, I took the opportunity to board. Once on deck, I strolled along the verge, letting my palm trace the edges of the rails. From up here, I had a fantastic view of the harbor and the city beyond – looking down over countless sails, jutting up into the sky. I wasn’t even on the top deck, and still I stood taller than these sailboats and yachts.

  I felt like a king, surveying his kingdom. From the highest surface above these waters, I stood proud in my castle, ready to send the entire structure across the ocean.

  Turning my attention inward, I strolled to the nearest entrance, fishing in my pocket for my keys – including the master key to this vessel. I flicked on lights as I walked across the deck, surveying my art on the walls, the polish on the bannisters, and the richness on the cabinet doors. The dining room was stocked and ready to go; the pantries were filled with non-perishables, with ample space for the inevitable produce shipment; every pot and pan was spick and span.

  Cleaning and maintaining a vessel of this size could be filthy work, but my maintenance crew had outperformed themselves again.

  She was seaworthy.

  After surprising a good half dozen of my crew, biding their time by playing cards around a table, I took one last long, introspective walk around the decks, then let myself out the way I came. Locking the door again on my way out, I decided that enough was enough, and that my impromptu inspection had been met with flying colors.

  “She’s a beautiful ship, sir,” Findlay remarked as I returned. My driver was clad from boot to cuff in black, with gray clumps of hair curling out under his chauffeur’s hat. He lifted a leather-gloved hand to remove his sunglasses in the dimming light, revealing his bright, sparkling eyes. “You sure as shit know how to pick ‘em.”

  “I had her built,” I reminded him as he opened the door for me. Halfway through climbing in, I peered back over the side of the car towards the magnificent ship. “Almost sold her last year…but I’m glad I held onto her.”

  “Almost doesn’t seem you right, you losing the Miss,” Findlay replied. “Almost like you two belong together.”

  He meant well, but I pushed the obvious parallel out of my head. Sierra couldn’t be mine. She never could, no matter how beautiful she had grown to become.

  Because I knew what would happen if I touched her.

  And I had a promise to keep.

  7

  Sierra

  * * *

  During the entire train ride back home from that meeting with Blaine, I started brainstorming how I was going to pitch this to my mother. She was territorial when it came to me – and I wondered how much I should leave out of the equation when I told her.

  Oh, by the way, a billionaire is taking me across the ocean for fifteen thousand dollars. Blaine Winguard. You know, the one constantly chased by the paparazzi? He’s the one with all the scandals? Yes, that one! Anyway, he wants me to join him on a yacht across the sea, going to the most prestigious film festival in the world. Yeah, I’ll be gone a few weeks.

  Yes, Mama, you’re right – he will probably try the moves on me. Over and over. The best part is, he’s smoking fucking hot! I’d probably say yes!

  For some reason, that didn’t sound like it would fly over so well. I ran the scenarios repeatedly in my head, envisioning all sorts of horrible responses to my approaches – being disowned, being kicked out of the house, being screamed and shouted at.

  Even after telling her only the barest details – that I needed to travel for a few weeks for work – I wasn’t really all that far off the mark.

  “You expect me to believe that you can take care of yourself out there?” Mama scolded me over her crossword. “Hell, you don’t know what the real world is like! You don’t know how cruel and vicious it can be out there!”

  “Look, Mama, it’s for my job! I have to go!”

  “You don’t have to do a goddamned thing, child!” Her paper was down on the table, and she was staring angrily at me now. “Where are you even going?”

  “I don’t know yet!” I lied.

  “Babygirl, you know I can spot a lie,” she growled.

  It was true. My mother had an uncanny ability to instantly sniff out a lie to her face, and I knew I had to be more careful than that around her.

  “Mama…I just didn’t want you to be worried.”

  “And lying to me, child, is the perfect way to do just that.”

  “You’re…you’re right,” I conceded. “I’m going to France for a little while. I have to shadow this rich, famous guy.”

  “What kind of job sends you to France to go follow some rich guy?”

  “It’s important work,” I told her. “Look, I can’t tell you a lot about it – it’s confidential stuff, and I can’t risk anything getting out – but I’m telling you, Mama, I can take care of myself!”

  “Hmph,” she replied dismissively, turning back to her puzzles.

  “No, Mama, don’t be like that…” I came up behind her and began to rub her shoulders gently, then firmly: just the way she liked it.

  My mother glanced over her should at me in irritation, but sighed and lowered her shoulders. “Look, child, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not a child anymore,” I told her. “I’m a grown woman now. I’ve been to college – I’ve graduated the highest in my class. These last few years, I’ve worked hard to make you proud, and I did everything I was supposed to. Can’t you just let me do my own thing now?”

  She remained quiet.

  “Mama, I’ve got to do this. This is important to me. And I know you’re worried, and I know you’re scared…but I promise, I’ll take good care of myself. You’ll see.”

  “Sierra, what if you have another episode?”

  Episode. She was, of course, talking about the time that I blacked out when I was a teenager. I’d woken up on the couch here after losing consciousness when I was hanging out with my boyfriend and some of his friends – he’d been so scared that he had barely kept in touch, and then he got into some trouble at school and was sent to Juvenile.

  Just the thought of it made my skin crawl. I felt so weak and scared when I woke up, and the entire experience had made me afraid of leaving home. It didn’t help that my mother grew overly protective of me when that happened – although she didn’t know that I saved up and got myself checked out a few years later. They couldn’t find any evidence of narcolepsy, or any other disease that would case my systems to totally shut down.

  “Mama, that was once,” I told her. “I haven’t had another episode since I was, like, fifteen years old.”

  “Yes, well…the world’s a bad place, Sierra. And you’ve always steered clear into trouble. I just want you to be okay. I can’t say I’ll let you go…but you’re right. You’re a grown woman now. It’s your decision.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mama,” I replied with a big smile, throwing my arms around her shoulders. “I promise that I can take care of myself now. I’ll be safe.”

  “That’s all I can ask, baby,” she murmured sadly, lost in thought as she glanced away. “That’s all I can ever ask.”

  I spent the rest of the week packing. I’d never needed any suitcases before, and I called upon my best friend to come pick me up from home.

  “Heya, girl!” Keesha called out behind the wheel of her latest car, an older, black Camaro. “Tell your Mama I said ‘Hi!’”

  “Mama’s running a shift right now, but I’ll mention it to her later!” I called out as I locked the door behind myself and descended the porch. As I climbed into the car, I spotted the stick shift in the center console, and my spirits fell.

  “Keesha…tell me you know how to drive stick.”

  “Girl, it ain’t that hard!”

  We lurched forward, and my head smacked back against the headrest. She fiddled with the stick some more, letting loose a brief burst of expletives and prayers. We finally staggered forward again, then a little further, until
she finally improvised us onto the road.

  “Well…okay,” she added meekly. “It’s a little hard.”

  “You’re gonna kill us, Keesh.”

  “Only if you keep that attitude up. Forget the car, I’ll pull this thing over and wrap my fingers around your throat myself, so help me God!”

  We laughed until she nearly rear-ended someone, and then immediately pulled out from behind to instigate a chorus of horns.

  “Keesh, seriously. Take some lessons.”

  “Pfft, as if I don’t know how to drive…but enough stallin’. You’re takin’ yourself a little trip, hmm? Where you goin’?”

  “You’re going to make this car stall if you don’t–”

  “Bitch, I will beat you upside your head with this goddamn stick if you don’t spill it!”

  “Alright, alright…” I held my hands up, calming her down. “I’m going to France.”

  “You’re goin’–” She looked over at me, then back to the road, then back to me again. “You’re going to France. Sierra, what in the world is taking you to France?”

  “A boat,” I answered simply.

  “A boat. You are taking a boat to France.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. A boat…and a billionaire.”

  “Now hold the goddamn phone.”

  I almost burst into laughter at her bewildered expression…at least, until she almost swiped someone in a turn.

  “B-b-billionaire? Sierra, I know you’re eager to get away from your mama and all, and you might be trying some of that visualization crap I’ve been hearing about, but that is some out of this world optimistic bullshit you’re telling me right now. The idea is for it to be believable. Now, you going off on an extended weekend? That’s a little more down to earth.”

  “No, Keesh, it’s true! And you’ll never believe who it is.”

  Keesha looked over at me again, with a complicated mix of intense concentration and complete bewilderment soaked into her face. “Don’t you dare say Blaine Wing–”

  “It’s Blaine Winguard.”

  “Goddammit, Sierra! What the fuck did I just say?”

  I couldn’t contain myself anymore. After a brief, well-intentioned moment of snickering, I descended into hysterical laughter at the tone of her voice and the look on her face. I could barely keep myself together at the absurdity of the moment.

  “This is the part where you tell me what’s really goin’ on,” Keesha grinned, happy to have made me laugh.

  When I remained silent, wiping my eyes and stifling more laughter, she looked over at me again with rising perplexity and began shaking her head.

  “Oh hell no. No. You are not telling me this is true. No way. Sierra,” she muttered as we pulled up to a red light. “I’ve known you since freshman year, and you cannot keep a straight face to save your life. You look me in the eyes and tell me that Blaine Winguard is taking you to France right this goddamn second.”

  I looked her straight in the eyes.

  “Blaine Winguard is taking me on his personal yacht across the ocean to the Cannes Film Festival. We’re going to enjoy that for a while, and then he’ll bring me right back. Oh, and he’s paying me fifteen thousand dollars upfront for my company, just because.”

  Keesha maintained eye contact with me, processing everything that I was saying – and the fact that neither my tone, nor my voice, quivered for a single syllable.

  “You’re an escort now. That’s fair. I mean, I couldn’t do it, but that’s one way to make some money–”

  “No, I’m not an escort. It’s not that kind of thing. I’m just doing some work with that internship. Officially, I’m not even on the books, but they’re still paying me and they’ll still be in touch. Blaine is going to be a part of this, but I can’t really tell you anymore than that. I’ve already said too much as it is.”

  “Your mama’s alright with this?”

  “I’ve told her the bare minimum, but no. She’s letting me do it anyway. I convinced her that, surprise surprise, I’m a grown woman now.”

  We heard a honking from behind, and realized that the light had turned green. Keesha kicked the car into gear, lurching it forward to a fresh chorus of blaring horns, all the while rolling down her window and defiantly sticking her middle finger out.

  “Sierra, you’re supposed to be the boring one! You know that, right? Blaine Winguard…the biggest, richest son of a bitch around…girl, we aren’t just buying you luggage today. You are getting a wardrobe makeover. And a pair of the prettiest goddamn lingerie around, just in case.”

  “Keesha!”

  “Nuh-uh!” She waggled her index finger at me. “You let me handle this shit. Your mama’s out until tonight?”

  “Yeah, she’s pulling a straight shift today. Noon to nine.”

  Keesha’s eyes fell on the digital clock in the dashboard. “Then in that case…bitch, we’re going shopping.”

  A couple of days later, I was packed and ready. Sitting on the porch with my chin resting in my palms, I awaited the driver. Blaine and I had shared numbers before I left the meeting, and his last text had designated the pickup time.

  Mama was distraught that she was being made to pick up a day shift. She’d had every intention to see me off, but I had assured her that everything would be fine. As any good mother would do, she’d instructed me to text or call, and I’d agreed that I would.

  Keesha was here, though. Sitting on the porch swing nearby, she was rocking slightly and determined to see whether or not this entire thing was some weird cry for attention that I was making.

  “He’s gonna show, you know,” I told her.

  “Uh-huh.”

  I was starting to get worried. It was already fifteen minutes after he said his car would arrive. Eager for something to do, I jumped up to my feet and offered to get her something to drink. When she declined, I shrugged and went inside, figuring I could do with a glass of the fresh lemonade in the fridge.

  No sooner had the juice hit my glass than I heard the door fly open. “Sierra – holy shit, you weren’t kidding.”

  The sound of crunching gravel was distant from where I was, but I immediately poured and downed a small portion of lemonade – I’d already dirtied the cup, after all – and set everything back before flocking towards the front door.

  A spotless, tinted black sedan was parked out front, and a tall chauffer dressed in fancy black clothes was already moving my luggage to the trunk. With gray hair tufting out from under his cap, he turned to me and grinned.

  “You must be Miss Simmons. Please, let me escort you into the car…”

  But the door popped open before he could move, and who would step out but Blaine Winguard himself. I could practically hear Keesha’s panties drop from beside me.

  He flashed my flabbergasted friend a sly, mischievous smile, then turned to me with those beautiful blue eyes. With his strong, incredible voice, he held out his hand and murmured to me:

  “Come along, Sierra.”

  8

  Sierra

  * * *

  About forty-five minutes later, our driver – a man Blaine had called “Findlay” – pulled us to a stop in nearby New Jersey at a wharf. Taking in the incredible sight, my eyes traced the massive collection of seafaring ships that lined the docks. From my angle, I could barely see anything else through all the masts. The vessels proudly displayed their colors against the open, blue sky, their sails standing tall and proud.

  Somewhat alarmingly, none of them looked like they could fit a thirty-member crew alongside us. A few looked like they could handle it…but it would be a really tight squeeze.

  “Which one of these is yours?” I asked Blaine, pointing at the sea of yachts. There must have been dozens of them, if not a hundred. It was hard to tell, even as his driver politely guided me out from the sedan.

  Blaine followed my indication and chuckled dismissively. “Oh, none of those are mine.” Only Blaine Winguard could be effortlessly boastful as he modestly lifted his index fin
ger, indicating another vessel entirely. “…That one’s mine.”

  I followed his gaze to the ship I had immediately written off from the start, an imposingly large transport that dominated the space. Upon first glance, I had pegged it for a cruise liner. “There’s…no. No way. That’s not a yacht.”

  “Well, the term is officially Mega-yacht. Or is it Giga-yacht…?” He shrugged noncommittally. “There are a lot of different terms. Point is, that’s the ship that will take us across the Atlantic, fast.”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  The billionaire smiled confidently. “Oh, my dear Sierra, I personally assure you that I am not.”

  I couldn’t help but gawk openly at the massive vessel as a few sharply dressed attendants drove over to our vehicles on a mobile baggage handler. They began carefully moving our possessions onto the back as Blaine clasped his arm around my shoulder.

  “Want to see her?” He asked coyly.

  I nodded quietly. “Do I ever…”

  “Splendid. Sierra Simmons, meet the Queen Victoriana…”

  As if introducing me down a magnificent flight of stairs to a ball, Blaine guided me regally towards the luxury yacht. The ship stood tall and dominant over everything else in the harbor, boasting what appeared to be three decks. It must have been over four hundred feet long, maybe even longer. Each deck was recessed into the ship and lined with sparkling windows, with open space behind – and the above deck serving as protection from the sun.

  While the front of the ship was angled to a point, ready to confidently swash its way through the ocean, the back flared outward into an uncovered recreational area. The entire overall design of the vessel was sleek, powerful, and commanded absolute dominion over all in its path.

  Blaine continued walking me around the side as I continued to admire the massive, elegant boat. The mobile carrier zipped past with the crew dangling their feet over the sides as the driver steered it towards a conveyor belt that lifted up towards an open door on the ship. Once in position, they carefully slipped our luggage up the belt, and I spotted our vehicles departing from behind.