by M. Leighton
CHAPTER FIFTEEN- Reese
When another flight attendant makes her way to me, I find it hard to keep my short temper in check.
“Would you like something else to drink, Mr. Spencer?” she asks quietly.
“Not right now,” is my clipped reply.
She leans forward ever so slightly and drops her voice a little lower. “Is there anything else I could get you or do for you?”
I take my eyes off Kennedy’s profile long enough to give the attendant my full attention. This one has flown with me before. The jet is part of a timeshare between me, my father and two other business associates with frequent travel needs. The company that we use for flight crew knows that I have specific requirements of the female attendants. My clientele like all their staffing encounters to be visually pleasurable and the company we use has always been accommodating. They are screened thoroughly and regularly, just like all my club employees are, and these women are young, beautiful and, occasionally, very willing to go…above and beyond. Like this one.
I see the heat in her dark blue eyes. I see the way she wets her lips and squeezes her breasts together for maximum cleavage. She’s just as appealing as any girl I’d hire if I had my pick. But not today. Today she’s just annoying. Today she’s not what I want. Today she’s just not Kennedy.
“As…enjoyable as that sounds, I think I’m set for the flight,” I tell her kindly.
She nods and straightens before moving back through the cabin to ask the others if they’d like something to eat or drink. My eyes shift to Kennedy again and I see that she’s watching me. She’s not smiling at something Sig said or talking to him like she’s known him forever. No, this time I’ve got her full attention. And she’s not laughing.
I give her a small nod before I turn my attention to the view outside the window. I don’t even bother to hide the smile that I suddenly feel like wearing.
Damn her, two can play that game.
I let my irritation dissolve into calm determination. If there’s one thing that life has taught me, it’s to never give up. If things aren’t going my way, I do something to shift the tide. If the first answer is no, I keep trying until I get the right one. And if something gets in my way, I’ve learned to move it out of my way. Kennedy may not admit that she’ll be mine again yet, but she will. I’ll see to it.
My cruise assistant, Karesh, is waiting for us with the limo at the airport. He is capable, reliable and a stickler for the details, which is a combination that I consider mandatory for someone in his position. He knows how I like things and he makes sure they are prepared in such a way, down to the letter.
We quietly discuss all the arrangements as everyone else chats on the way to Marina del Rey. He’s already arranged for the smaller boat that will ferry us from there to where the yacht is moored out in the deeper waters.
When the driver pulls up beside the dock, I can see that the ferrying boat is already taking our luggage out to the yacht.
Hemi comes to stand beside me, slapping me on the back as he points out toward the yacht where it floats out in the bay. “Is that the new yacht, bro?”
“No, the new one is registered in the Caribbean. This is the second one I bought.”
Sloane steps up to stand beside Hemi, winding her arms around his waist. After a few seconds she looks out in the direction of the yacht, too. “Ohmigod, is that it? Is that the boat we’ll be going to Hawaii on?” Her voice is dripping with excitement.
“Yep, that’s it,” he tells her. She turns shining eyes up at him and he gives her a quick kiss.
“This is gonna be awesome, baby!” she beams.
He nods and kisses her forehead, the moment turning suddenly intimate. I clear my throat and take a few steps away. With perfect timing, the ferrying boat returns from the yacht to retrieve us. I give my hands one loud slap. “Let’s load up so we can get going,” I tell them, anxious to be on our way.
Karesh ushers Hemi, Sloane and Sig down the dock to where the smaller boat waits. I look back for Kennedy who is trailing behind. She’s walking slowly, staring out at the horizon with a frown on her face.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
She says nothing at first, simply continues to stare. Finally, she turns cloudy eyes to me. “That is your boat? The one I’ll be spending the summer on?”
“It is.”
“So this is what your life is like? I had no idea.”
“This is just one of my businesses. This isn’t where I live my life. It’s simply what I do.”
Kennedy’s eyes stare into mine. “In your case, I think it’s pretty much the same thing, don’t you?”
She seems unhappy as she walks away. I don’t quite know what to make of her commentary, so I let it go. No sense in wasting time on things I can’t figure out or control. Especially not when I need to put my energy toward the things that I can.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN- Kennedy
A pleasant yet quiet man named Karesh gives us a tour of the yacht.
“This is Domani, the second of Mr. Spencer’s three entertainment yachts.”
“What does that mean, ‘Domani’?” Sloane asks, reading my mind.
“It means, ‘tomorrow’,” Karesh explains. “His first is called ‘Ieri’ which means yesterday, and his newest is called ‘Sempre’,” he finishes.
“Forever,” I whisper. I remember hearing the Italian word somewhere, maybe from Malcolm. I think I remember him saying his mother was born in Sicily, which would account for the dark good looks of all the Spencer men.
We follow Karesh from one stunning space on the yacht to another, all set against the backdrop of an endless horizon and water as far as the eye can see. We’ve already left the harbor and I had no idea we were even moving.
It’s more opulent than anything I’ve ever seen. The accommodations include everything from a library and show room, to a small swimming pool and gym. Although more compact, this craft lacks nothing that any resort on land boasts. At least not that I can see.
I wonder how I ever, in my young mind, thought that Reese and I could have a future of any kind. We might as well be from different planets. I mean, I knew it at the time. I knew he was the quintessential rich kid and I was the classic poor girl, but this…this is just staggering. We weren’t worlds apart; we were galaxies apart. I was a fool to ever get involved with someone like Reese. But the only thing I can do about it now is vow never to make the same mistake again.
And I don’t plan to.
Ever.
When we go below decks to the staterooms, Karesh begins assigning rooms. I get a glimpse inside each one we pass. They’re all outfitted with queen sized beds, rich cream duvets and carpeting that appears to be six inches thick. They’re nicer than my bedroom at home, which I was quite proud of until today.
Soon, everyone is getting settled in their room and I am following Karesh by myself to another part of the ship.
“These are the crew quarters,” he says. “And since you’ll be working for Mr. Spencer during this voyage, your accommodations will be located here.” We pass several narrow doors, one of which is open and I can see inside. Two sets of bunk beds dominate the room, one against the wall to the left, the other against the wall to the right. I gulp. I’m a very private person and it really didn’t occur to me to ask about living quarters. But, it’s too late to ask now. We’ve already left Los Angeles behind.
We pass an area he explains is the crew lounge. It’s a large room with a kitchenette against the back wall and a long table that separates it from the living area. The main space holds three sofas, two chairs, and a big screen television that’s mounted to the wall. Several people are gathered around two men playing at a foosball table that’s pushed into a corner. None of them bother to look up as we pass, for which I’m intensely grateful. I need to get my bearings before meeting the others.
Karesh continues on to more rooms, finally stopping beside the very last door. He opens it and sweeps his arm forward, an indication
that I should precede him. So I do.
This room is different than the others. It’s lighter, this one having a small, high window on one wall, and it has one full-sized bed rather than the bunk beds that line the walls in the others. There is a small sink in one corner, as well as a soft round chair that appears to be bolted to the floor. I hold my breath, almost afraid to ask if this one will be mine.
“This is where you’ll be staying,” Karesh divulges.
“Really?” He nods his head and smiles.
“Really.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, running my hand over the countertop that surrounds the sink. “Please don’t take this as a complaint, but why do I get a room like this? What about the other rooms?”
“Mr. Spencer asked that you be given this room.”
“Did he say why?”
“I only do as I’m told, ma’am. I don’t ask questions.”
I nod and smile. “I understand. Well, thank you. This room is…is…it’s great.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he says pleasantly. “Your bags will be here shortly. If there is anything else you need, feel free to ask. Just dial 300 from any phone on the ship. I can arrange to have any necessities obtained for you once we reach Hawaii.”
“We’re going to Hawaii?”
“Yes, that’s our first stop, where we’ll drop off Mr. Spencer’s brother and his companions and pick up our clients.”
“Oh, I see. And then where will we be going?”
“French Polynesia, ma’am,” he answers.
“Oh,” I reply vaguely but enthusiastically. I have no idea what kinds of destinations lie in French Polynesia. That’s what happens when you don’t finish high school. The GED program skips a lot. “It sounds amazing.”
“Oh, it is,” he assures. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. If your bags aren’t delivered in ten minutes—”
He doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before he’s interrupted by a young, fit, blond guy. “Sir, I have them.”
“Perfect timing, Brian,” Karesh says, stepping out of his way. “Brian, this is Kennedy. She’ll be in entertainment. Serving as well if extra help is needed. Kennedy, this is Brian. He’s the on-board trainer and the person who will be keeping you conditioned during your stay.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Brian.”
“Likewise,” Brian says with a broad smile.
Karesh nods to me. “I’ll see you in one hour for dinner in the rotunda.”
“Thank you, Karesh,” I say before he walks off. Smiling, I turn to Brian who’s holding my big suitcase. “I’ll take that.”
As if it weighs nothing, Brian picks up the case with one hand, keeping it out of my reach as he holds me off with the other. “Nope. I’ve got it. I’ll be working those muscles of yours soon enough.”
He gives me an engaging smile as he walks past me to deposit my suitcase on the bed. He turns, dusting off his hands, and winks at me. “Welcome aboard, Dorothy. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
I’m surprised when he kisses my cheek on his way back out the door. I’m sure I’m wearing an expression that says as much as he closes the door behind himself, leaving me standing in the middle of my new room, pondering his strangely familiar behavior.
In the quiet moments following his departure, I realize three things about Brian. One, I don’t think he meant anything derogatory by the Dorothy comment. Two, something in my gut tells me he’s gay. And three, I like him already. That seemingly-innocuous trio of tiny details puts me at ease and gives me a better outlook on the coming summer than any I’ve had so far.
Finding someone that I can be friends with has never been easy for me. Trust issues aside, I’m reserved right up to the moment I feel very comfortable in someone’s presence, which makes it difficult for people to get to know and like me. It’s something I learned long ago and have come to terms with. It’s also something that has made me appreciate those who I can call “friend,” those who gave me a chance, who stuck it out until I loosened up. They’ve turned out to be some of the best people I’ve had the good fortune of filling my life with, and I treasure them. It’s probably no coincidence that they’re all older people, like Tanny, Malcolm and Clive. I get the feeling that I’ll soon be adding the much-younger Brian to that list, though. And I’d like nothing more than to be right. We’ll see how that goes. But for now, he’s managed to make me feel welcome and at ease, and I desperately needed that.
I go about getting settled in my room, quickly discovering that there are all sorts of interesting uses of space, like storage for instance. There are drawers tucked under the bed and under the sink, which is a good thing. I didn’t bring that much stuff, but I wouldn’t have enough room to store it all if I’d been given one of the group rooms, especially once I see that the closet is full of clothes already.
I can only assume they are for me. Not only are they brand new and all in my size, but they look like things I’d wear to dance. My style exactly. Whoever Reese has working for him is very good!
Among the costumes, though, are some beautiful gowns and very nice formal wear. I don’t know what I’m expected to wear the items for, but I suppose someone will tell me when the time comes. For all I know, Reese may have his service staff wear things like that. On a boat like this, nothing would surprise me.
But for tonight, my first night on board with no idea what to expect at dinner, I dress in something of my own—a pair of soft moleskin pants in chocolate and a sleeveless blouse in cream. It’s the kind of outfit that can be worn in a wide variety of situations without making me stand out.
I brush out my hair until it hangs in shiny waves around my shoulders and give my lips a fresh coat of gloss. Other than that, I’m going as is. I have no one to impress.
After only five minutes of being cooped up in my tiny room with a window that I can’t see out of unless I stand on the bed, I’m already too fidgety to stay here until dinner time. I decide to go up to one of the open-air decks to enjoy the view instead.
I make three wrong turns getting from where my room is in the forward-most part of the ship to where I thought the steps were that lead to the upper decks. Luckily, one of my wrong turns leads me to a set of steps that end up in the kitchen where Brian just happens to be standing, talking to a man whom I assume is the chef. His tall, puffy hat and long white apron are dead giveaways.
Brian smiles as soon as I appear in the doorway just beyond the long, stainless steel table at which they stand. He’s going over a list of foods as the chef winds long, thin strips of dough into spirals.
“Well, look at you,” he says pleasantly, bestowing upon me another of his winning, yet markedly un-sexually-interested smiles.
“I think I’m lost. I was actually going up to one of the decks to take in some fresh air before dinner.”
“Good for you. Enjoy it while you can. Once the clients are on board, you won’t be able to hang around up there. You’ll be getting cozy with the rest of us in the trenches.”
I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach just thinking about spending the next three months locked away in a tiny, airless room in the bow of a ship. But I hide that beneath the small, placid smile that I’ve learned to permanently affix to my face.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Unless they’re off the ship in port.”
“Okay.”
“Or unless you’re requested by one of them. They get whatever they want, of course, even if it’s the company of a particular employee for the night.”
“For the night?” A tiny niggle of alarm sweeps through me. Surely that doesn’t mean what it sounds like it means.
“Well, for the evening. Anything beyond that is a…personal decision, not a work requirement.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say a third time, slowly exhaling my relief.
“But you made one too many lefts. You should’ve taken a left-right-left coming out of your room, not a left-left-left.”
“So I should go
back down the stairs and—”
“Girl, that’s too much trouble. Just go out that door,” he says, pointing to a larger door across the room from where we stand, “and you’re in the bar. There will be exits leading to the deck on your left.”
I nod my thanks and make my way outside, even more determined to enjoy the experience and the scenery since it might be my only chance for a while. I’ve never been on a cruise, or on a boat at all actually, so this is a first—but hopefully not a last—for me.
I walk to the furthest point on the bow of the ship and lean into the V of the railing. The wind is warm and brisk, the sun shines on my face as it sets and all I can hear is the spraying sound of the wake as the boat cuts through the water. When I turn my head and look far to the left and scan the horizon all the way around to my right, I’m floored by how small and insignificant I feel. As far as I can see, there is nothing visible but miles and miles of ocean. It’s both humbling and breathtaking. And maybe a little bit intimidating.
I lean over the rail a bit to look down at the front of the yacht where it stands still so far above the surface of the water. That’s when I see them.
I gasp. Six dolphins jump and play in the water just ahead of the ship, as if daring the boat to touch them, but the boat dares not.
The orange light bounces off their pale gray bodies, glistening brightly as they make their brave arc in front of the yacht. With their mouths open as they squeak to one another, it looks like they’re smiling at me as they breach the water for an instant and then disappear two seconds later. I’m barely aware of the delighted laugh that bubbles up in my chest and spills from my lips.
“Amazing, aren’t they?” a deep, familiar voice says at my ear. Immediately, I stiffen, the smile dying from my lips and my heart doubling its beats per minute.
I turn my head to find Reese nearly pressed to my back. In the dying sun, golden highlights shine in his hair and his eyes sparkle like aquamarines of the highest quality. For a moment, I’m tempted to count every inky lash that rims his exotic eyes, but the flash of his brilliant smile takes my breath away and reminds me that I’m playing with fire of the most dangerous kind. I can’t lean away; there’s nowhere to go. My only option is to ignore him and return my attention to the view I was enjoying.