by Jq Allan
Lizzie stood on the deck and watched a huge catamaran as it disappeared around the point. The gulls were flying against breeze, barely moving as the wind pushed them higher from beneath their wings. Lizzie was transfixed, and took a deep breath as she watched the harbor.
"We got it," said Nicole with a victorious smile. Lizzie smiled, turning away from the water. "And with that little transaction, we are done for the day," said Nicole pumping her fist.
Leaving the harbor, Lizzie was happy when Nicole suggested massages. In the cab, Nicole called the masseuse and booked them together. Lizzie got the sense they were afraid of Nicole. They didn't even balk when she told them she was booking an appointment for two in five minutes. It was just what Lizzie needed.
Feeling the skilled hands of the masseuse on her shoulders made Lizzie relax for the first time in a week.
"Those Pebbles are good people," Nicole said as her masseuse worked on her lower back. "I know I told you to ask, but I can't believe she gave you a week off with zero notice."
"I was going to take the time later for my honeymoon anyway," said Lizzie.
"Oh right, sorry," said Nicole. She closed her eyes as her masseuse worked on her shoulders.
Lizzie thought for a moment about the honeymoon. Sam and Lizzie had disagreed about the destination. He had wanted to sit on a beach in the Caymans for a week, while she had favored taking a camper across country and sleeping in the cozy bed or underneath the stars. He probably would have gotten his way.
She was suddenly glad they hadn't come to an agreement and made reservations. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as the strong hands of the masseuse pushed deeply into her shoulders.
7
When Mackenzie surfaced, he scanned the water for the remains of his catamaran. The twisted metal of the boat bobbed helplessly, overturned a few feet away. He quickly swam to the wounded vessel, took a deep breath, and disappeared below the surface of the waves. Swimming underneath the boat, he blindly made his way to the seat where he was sailing just moments earlier. His fingers numbly searched the surface of the metal near his seat. He felt nothing. He traced the smooth metal of the hull with his fingertips. His lungs burned but he pressed forward, meticulously exploring the floor of the boat.
Finally, The tip of his finger hooked on something metallic and he reached further. He wrapped his hand around a large carabiner, and followed a string to a small waterproof bag. With one swift motion, he released the clip and placed the bag tightly between his teeth. Pushing hard against the water with his palms, he worked his way quickly to the water's surface. Taking a deep breath of air, he felt the cold breeze on his face and a strong sense of relief.
He took in his bearings. On the shore, he could see the profile of a large car and a well dressed man walking towards the water. He gave his legs a quick and powerful kick. His body glided through the water as the waves passed over his rippled shoulders like stones in a river. In a few minutes, he reached the shoreline and waded through the water onto the beach. He turned and could see the outline of the catamaran still bobbing on surface.
"Towel sir?"
"Yes James, thank you," Mackenzie said to the man. He handed James the small bag, and blotted his face with the towel. His shirt clung tightly to his body as he wrapped the towel to his chest. Taking the bag back from James, Mackenzie walked to the car. James opened the door, and Mackenzie lowered himself into the back seat. A tackle twill Yale sweatshirt and khaki shorts sat tightly folded on the back seat as he pulled off his wet clothes.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. It had been unsettlingly strange being back at the old camp again. The small family cottage was only accessible by water, and had been one of his father's favorite retreats. The roof of the main cottage had caved in many years before, but the small lean-to where he slept as a boy had remained intact. He was able to find his name carved into the soft pine of the walls, remembering the summers sleeping out under the stars. As a boy and into his teens, it had been his favorite place in the world. Remembering why he had come, he had moved to the back of the lean-to and felt the floor against the back wall. After only a few moments, he found the loose floorboard and a treasure he had left there many years before.
"Feeling better sir?" James asked as Mackenzie opened his eyes after dressing himself in the dry clothes.
Pushing two fingers inside, he slowly separated the drawstring tie holding the top of the bag together. Reaching his hand in slowly, he pulled out a long silver key. Flipping it over, he could see an inscription carved in the side.
Veritas Lux Mea.
Fondling it between his fingers, he smiled. He hadn't thought of the key for years until he received a curious letter two weeks earlier telling him it was a vitally important piece of his future. The letter also told him to make sure he kept his calendar open for the Steele and Wickes client party. Again, the letter made reference to it being important to his future. It was signed "A Friend."
Mackenzie looked at James and smiled.
"I am now," he said.
8
The day of the party, Lizzie was flying. She hadn't thought about Sam all week, and the harbor was buzzing with caterers in their white coats, deckhands in their crisp navy polos, and vans stuffed with everything from flowers to crystal.
Collapsing on a crate, Lizzie took off her shoe and massaged the ball of her foot. Nicole was standing on the bow of the ship, barking out orders to the waitstaff about napkin folding. Lizzie thought it would be funny if any of the staff saw Nicole's couch.
Nicole was in her element. Nobody fucked with her. In one weeks time, she had changed caterers, planned a new menu, coordinated the venue, and doubled down on every part of the party. Lizzie was starting to feel that Nicole had really earned the new Louie hanging from her arm.
"Bitch, no sitting down on the job," she heard Nicole shout from the deck of the boat. Lizzie laughed as she threw her hands up in the air and smiled.
"Get up here, I need your help," Nicole shouted.
Lizzie placed her shoe back onto her foot and walked up the long "runway", as Nicole called it, to the deck of the two story ship.
"These fuckers know nothing about napkins," Nicole scoffed once Lizzie was in earshot. "Ok, we start in exactly... four hours," Nicole said looking at the clock on her phone. "I need to get ready, and so do you so we will do it in shifts," said Nicole, still clearly operating in work mode. "I'll be back in a few. The band is moving in and the flowers are done. Just make sure these napkin fuckers get their job done."
Nicole didn't even wait for Lizzie to respond as she jogged down the runway and disappeared out of sight.
By the time the napkins were folded and the flowers were perfectly arranged, it was nearly seven.So much for shifts!With only an hour until the event, Nicole arrived and was escorted up the runway by a short balding man with black rimmed glasses.That must be the troll. Nicole looked stunning. Her pin straight hair had been looped into wavy curls that fell around her neck. The thin straps of her gown held a flowing wine colored fabric.
Lizzie made her way down the runway as Nicole walked up, pointing things out to the troll. "As you can see Mr. Anderson, we have this area prepped for cocktails when the guests arrive." He nodded with his mouth pursed and eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by their handiwork.
As Lizzie passed them, Nicole looked back and mouthed, "I'm so sorry" with a winced face. She quickly turned back to the troll and again began to point out details.
As Lizzie briskly walked to the start of the pier, she stole a quick glance at the ship. She could see Lizzie standing at the top of the runway. The ship looked marvelous. They had pulled it off. She held up her hand to hail a cab and looked at her phone.Shit. fifty-six minutes to get ready and get back. You're killing me Nic.
9
At a quarter past eight, Nicole and Mr. Anderson watched from the top of the runway as the guests arrived. Seeing the ladies in their gowns and the gentlemen in their tuxedos gave her a rush.
Looking down the long pier, she could see cars lined up to deliver their passengers. One car caught her eye. It was definitely antique, forest green, and huge. As it pulled up, its driver quickly got out and opened the rear door. Nicole strained to see the man getting out of the car. His broad shoulders and chiseled chin seemed to be carved out of solid stone. He was much more handsome in person. Nicole had seen pictures of Mackenzie Steele in the papers. The hunky, hotheaded son of a billionaire always drew a crowd, and it seemed like he was enjoying the playboy lifestyle. She hadn't been expecting him at the party and wondered if this was the reason for Anderson's sudden budget change.
He walked confidently up the runway and she broke her gaze. He shook hands with a number of the men coming up the runway. They all addressed him as "Mr. Steele." As he approached, he gave Mr. Anderson a nod. "Mackenzie," said Anderson in acknowledgement. She thought it was a bit odd that Mr. Anderson had referred to him by his first name when everyone else he saw bent over backwards to kiss his ass.
Mackenzie Steele disappeared into the crowd at the top of the runway, and Nicole turned her gaze again toward the queuing traffic.
* * *
Further up the pier, Lizzie tipped the cabbie and stepped out of the car. She touched her hair to make sure it was still in place. Her feet moved swiftly beneath her as she walked towards the ship. She was late, but satisfied that she had pulled off a wardrobe change and travel time in just over an hour. She spotted Nicole and the troll at the top of the ramp and gave a quick wave. Nicole excused herself, and met Lizzie on the runway.
"I am so sorry I was late," Nicole said. "I think I changed like six times." She took a step back. "Lizzie, You look amazing. Damn. There is definitely a penis or two at this party that..."
"No, penises," whispered Lizzie fanning herself. She shook her head. "I'm sweating. It is so hot out here," she said.
"That's because you just friggin' ran a mile down a pier to get here," laughed Nicole. "Go get a drink. I'll just be a second," she said motioning at Anderson who was still standing at the top of the runway.
Lizzie nodded, trying to politely catch her breath. The boat was beginning to get packed, and Lizzie could hear the jazz quartet inside the dining room.
Lizzie made her way to the bar. She was exhausted, but satisfied. The guests looked happy, and Lizzie smiled when she looked at the tables of perfectly folded napkins.
"Moët please," she said. The bartender quickly handed her a flute of champagne. She did a quick sweep of the dining room, downed her drink, and grabbed another champagne from a waiter as she made her way up to the deck.
Taking the glass, she walked to the deck of the boat. The guests seemed to be having a great time, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The week had been crazy and she smiled at the scene she had helped to create.
By now, most of the partygoers had made their way inside, and she was content to be alone with her thoughts.
The sun began to set as she placed her hand on the rail of the ship and stared into the harbor. Pink and tangerine spires reflected and danced in the water of the harbor. A few boats in the harbor rocked gently in the waves, sending scattered reflections of the sun's waining rays.
She suddenly felt like she wasn't alone. She turned and looked down the length of the ship to see a man a few feet down the railing taking in the same view. Turning back to the sunset, she turned her eyes to steal another quick look at the man.
He had broad shoulders and neatly trimmed auburn hair. Lizzie found herself unable to break her gaze. Leaning forward, his elbows rested on the rail as he gazed deeply at the sunset. He swirled the tumbler in his hand and raised it to take a sip of his cocktail. As his lips touched the glass, Lizzie's tongue touched her own top lip and she let out a slow breath.
As he was lowering his glass, he tuned his head to look at Lizzie. Without realizing, she had turned to face him and had been staring at him for several seconds. She flushed. Embarrassed, she turned quickly and looked back on the harbor.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?", the man spoke.
Lizzie tried to reply but her throat had become dry. She managed to nod, hoping he meant his question to be rhetorical.
She could tell he was now looking at her. She felt uneasy under his gaze. She turned to look at him, hoping he would break eye contact.
Their eyes locked for the first time, and Lizzie went cold. She felt as though her body had been thrust under water and the sights and sounds around her had become suddenly fuzzy and muffled. Her senses spun into overdrive, and she was suddenly very aware of the the slight rocking of the ship felt beneath her feet. His eyes looked more deeply into her than she was comfortable with, but she found herself unable to break his gaze. They were deep, brown, and penetrating, and she was transfixed.
"Hi, my name's Mackenzie," he said moving closer to her.
"Lizzie. Lizzie Fox," she forced herself to reply.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Lizzie Fox," Mackenzie said without averting his eyes.
She took a deep breath and felt a growing warmth between her legs as he said her name. She flushed again. She broke eye contact and turned her attention to the harbor.What the heck is happening? She tried to regain her composure.
"Lizzie, I think you and I are the only people here enjoying this sunset," he said taking another sip of his cocktail. "So how are you connected to this bunch of stiff suits," he said with a smile, nodding his head towards the large "Steele and Wickes" banner near the runway.
"My friend Nicole planned this party," she said.
"She did a fantastic job," he said turning around to gaze upon the ship while placing his elbows on the railing. "I'm sure Steele and Wickes are very impressed."
"Do you work for Steele and Wickes?", she asked.
He seemed amused by her question and she wondered why.
"I have a strong connection to Steele and Wickes," he said taking another sip.
Well that didn't answer the question. She had a pretty good idea that his connection probably involved giving orders rather than taking them. His eyes gave that away. They didn't look for acceptance. They looked for obedience.
"And what is it that you do Lizzie?", he asked.
"Interior design," said Lizzie. She figured it wouldn't mean much to him, and wondered if he truly wanted to know the answer. To her surprise, she was wrong.
"Are you an independent designer, or do you work for a firm?", Mackenzie asked.
"I work for Wendle's Interiors right now on fourth street. Decorating this ship was the only independent work I've done in a while," she said motioning to the ship's decor. "Someday, I would love to own my own design business. That's probably a long way off though," answered Lizzie taking a sip of champagne.
Where the hell did that come from? It had always been her dream to work for herself, but she hadn't told anyone. It sounded weird to hear herself say it out loud, and Lizzie was surprised when it came out of her mouth. The thought of her own business excited her, scared her, and drove her.
"Why not now? Why are you waiting?", asked Mackenzie as he took another sip of his cocktail and raised his eyebrows.
Lizzie was surprised and a bit unnerved. She wasn't sure why he had asked, and even less sure that she wanted to talk to a complete stranger about her plans for the future. Still, his warm eyes drew her in and gave her confidence to continue.
"I need to get out there for a while first. When I do it, I want to do it right, you know? There is still a lot for me to learn," said Lizzie with a sigh.
Mackenzie raised his eyebrow and looked at her with quizzical grin.
"What?", asked Lizzie, smiling in response to his gaze.
"Nothing," he said waiving his hand dismissively. "It's just that most people say that they need money or blame people for the reasons they aren't going after something they want. It's just nice to meet someone like you," he said with a smile.
Lizzie paused for a moment as she took in his response.That was the weirdest compliment I h
ave ever received. Still, in her mind she was battling. There was something about him that made her very comfortable, and that scared the hell out of her. The fact that he could make her feel this way in their first conversation was completely unnerving.
"So what is it that you want in life Mackenzie?", asked Lizzie, trying to deflect the questioning from herself.
Mackenzie laughed, "Well Lizzie, I thought I knew, but now I'm not so sure." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "This week has been crazy. To be honest, between you and this sunset, I am more relaxed right now than I've been in weeks," he said gazing out over the water. "So thank you for that."
After a long silence, he spoke again. "I love the water. It gets so claustrophobic in the city."