by Stella James
It’s then that I notice the look of apprehension on Will’s handsome face, but before I can decipher its meaning, Kyle comes up from below deck. “Mandy?”
“Hey Ky,” she says, stepping towards him. “Jeez, you’re more handsome in person than you are in those fancy magazines.”
“Well, I do try,” he says, brushing an invisible speck of dirt from his shoulder.
“Amanda used to babysit Kyle,” Maureen explains.
“I swear, at eight years old he could walk better in my high heels than I could,” Amanda laughs. “Makes sense that you’re walking runways now, although that big brace of yours might put a stop to that. What’d you do this time?”
“I may have had a minor disagreement with a set of stairs,” Kyle says. “How long are you here for?” he asks.
“Just a couple days. I’ve gotta get going now, but hopefully I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” she says, gifting us with one more megawatt smile.
My eyes remain fixed on her as she brushes a hand along Will’s arm before heading back towards the hotel. His expression remains neutral. I vaguely notice Kyle swipe an apple from the bowl in front of me before he disappears again.
“Will, have a seat and grab a bite. Your father wants to head out soon.”
My eyes flash to his before he responds, “I think I’m good. I’m going to go see if everything’s ready to go.”
As he passes the table he slips a small box beside my plate, continuing on to where Byron is still speaking to the crew.
Dramamine. He brought me medicine so I wouldn’t throw up.
I finish my breakfast, hoping to get some information out of Rose but when I look over, she’s leaning back into the cushioned bench, her eyes closed.
Kyle emerges from below deck and gives me a very Cliff’s Notes version of boat anatomy 101. By the time he’s named half a dozen parts that I’ve already forgotten and given me a quick tour, the captain is ready to head out.
I know people usually rent charters for deep sea fishing, but I guess when you’re rich the people just come to you. A couple of crew members assist the men in setting up their equipment as the captain starts the engine and directs us away from the dock, setting out for open water. The ride is a bit bumpy but I don’t feel that bad as we get further and further away from the island. The wind whips through my hair as I sit on the same cushioned bench as before. I watch as Kyle and Will set up their rods and reels as they seem to tease each other. Glancing over at Maureen, I can see that she’s watching too, a hopeful smile on her face that blooms into pure joy as Byron joins in and soon the three men are laughing.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go freshen up,” she says, heading down below.
I notice that Rose is now awake so I turn and ask her, “Is she okay?”
“Oh she’ll be fine,” she says. “She just needs a minute. It’s been awhile since all her boys were together and smiling.”
“I feel awful about that,” I say. “I can’t imagine not being close to my family.”
“Mmmhm,” she nods. “This trip is gonna be good for all of them. That’s why I suggested it.”
“Maui was your idea? I just assumed it was Kyle’s parents’.”
“Byron is far too stubborn to ever admit there’s a rift in his family and my Maureen, bless her heart, often prefers the path of denial.”
“So, what’s the deal with Amanda and Will?” I ask casually. “Have they ever, like, dated or anything?”
“There a particular reason why you’re asking, honey?”
“No, just curious,” I lie.
“Mmhm,” she says. “Well it ain’t my story to tell, but I will say that those two have a history, if you know what I mean.”
“So they dated?”
“They were engaged, sweetie,” she says. “And when she called it off, she broke that boy’s heart. Now, why don’t you be a dear and go fix me up a cocktail?”
*
It isn’t long before we’re surrounded by nothing but the glittering blue ocean, the sun reflecting off the water all around us. The captain cuts the engine, allowing us to drift. Maureen and Rose set themselves up in a couple of fold-out chaises on the deck but I’m too antsy to sit and sunbathe. I head over to where the rods are set up unattended for the time being and gaze out at the water.
“Do me a favour and pass me that white bucket,” Byron says, suddenly beside me.
“This one?”
“That’s the one,” he says as he threads a piece of fishing line through a large metal hook. “Have you ever been fishing?”
“No, I haven’t actually,” I reply.
He removes the lid from the bucket, the stench of fish assaulting my nostrils instantly. “That smells terrible,” I exclaim.
“Yes, it does,” he chuckles.
“Isn’t that kind of weird? Using fish to catch fish? Seems kind of cannibalistic,” I say, scrunching up my nose.
He doesn’t respond with more than a snort as he pulls a mangled chunk of meat from the bucket and threads it onto the hook. He wipes his hands on a rag when he’s done and passes me the rod.
“You want me to fling this thing out there?” I ask.
“I want you to cast the line,” he corrects me.
He gives me a quick lesson and once I’ve got my line in the ocean, he instructs me to place the rod in the holder and take a seat beside him.
“So, what do we do now?”
“We wait,” he says, passing me a bottle. “And we have a beer.”
A moment of silence passes as we sit there and watch the water. I can tell that Kyle’s dad is definitely reserved but I get the feeling he comes by it naturally.
“So, Kyle mentioned that you’re recently retired,” I mention. “My dad retired last year., I think it’s been kind of hard on him.”
“It’s an adjustment,” he admits. “It’s hard to let go.”
“My dad says that too. He’s always trying to find new things to occupy his time.”
I tell him about my dad’s most recent venture into the business of vitamins.
“That sounds like a pyramid scheme,” he says.
“That’s what I said,” I say with a laugh. “But he’s convinced it isn’t, so my sisters and I just leave him to it. He’ll get bored eventually.”
“Maureen is always after me to try new things,” he says after a beat. “Old habits are hard to break, I suppose.”
“Amen,” I say, clinking my bottle to his.
“So, are you in the, uh, industry?”
“The ind-Oh God, no,” I laugh. “I leave the modeling to Kyle. Actually, I clean houses. I have a small company.”
“You own the company?” He asks with a hint of admiration.
“Yes, I do,” I say proudly.
“I don’t suppose you could rub some of that common sense onto my son? Maybe persuade him to stop dallying around in a woman’s world?”
“I don’t know why I would,” I respond. “Kyle’s good at what he does, and he enjoys it.”
“I’ll never understand that boy,” he says.
“You don’t really have to understand him to support his decisions, do you?” I ask.
“You sound like my wife,” he says.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment then. Your wife is lovely and you’re very lucky,” I smile.
“Amen,” he says
A slight jingle brings my attention to the fishing rod at my side. I look down at the rod and then back up before realizing this means I must have something on the other end. “It moved. Did you see that?” I ask.
Kyle and Will come around the corner, each holding a fresh bucket of bait.
“Might be a snag,” Kyle says, moving towards the rod.
I smack his hand away before he can touch it, earning a chuckle from Byron. “Don’t touch it,” I scold.
“Ow,” Kyle laughs. “She’s all yours,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.
I pick up the rod and feel a tug
on the other end, while I half listen as Byron instructs me on what to do next. I slowly begin to reel in the line, only to have it jerked nearly out of my hands.
“Hang on!” all three of them shout collectively.
I should hand this thing over to someone else. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’ll probably make a complete fool of myself. But then a tiny voice inside says, fuck it. You got this, Poppy!
I tighten my grip on the handle of the rod, holding it as steady as I can, reeling in the line a little bit at a time.
“I got it, I got it,” I chant, my arms burning as I try to keep the rod steady. My thumb slips and the line hangs loose. “Actually, I don’t! I don’t have it!” I shout.
“You’re doing fine - nice and steady,” Byron reassures from beside me. “Now hang on tight, but give him a little slack.”
I’m holding the damn thing with two hands, but whatever’s on the other end is not budging. Suddenly, visions of Jaws run rampant through my head and I have a very real fear that I’m about to be eaten alive.
“He’s gonna kill me,” I exclaim. “It’s a great white shark. I swear it’s a great white shark!”
“It’s not a great white shark. Keep it steady,” Byron says calmly. “Now try reeling him in. Thatta girl.”
“Are you sure it’s not a shark? Because it feels like a shark!”
“You got this, Poppy,” Kyle says.
I take my focus off the line and glance at Will who gives me an encouraging nod. He’s so handsome, standing there, watching me he-Jesus Christ, focus Poppy!
“Keep reeling,” Byron says. “Now, pull him up!”
I use every muscle in my body to pull Moby Dick aboard and when his flailing body emerges from the water I begin to chant like a wild woman. “I got him! I got that mother fucker!”
“That you did,” Byron chuckles, guiding the biggest fish in the entire world into the net that Will is holding out for me.
“Aww, look at him,” I say lovingly.
“That’s a good looking fish,” Will says, flashing me a smile.
I watch in fascination as Byron gently pulls the hook from Moby’s mouth and holds the fish in two hands. My trophy. My living, breathing proof that I just battled a great beast of the sea and won. I am Poppy Kramer, fishing prodigy extraordinaire.
He holds my fish up…and then chucks him back into the ocean.
“Hey! What the hell?” I protest.
“He’s too small to keep,” Kyle says gently. “We don’t keep the runts.”
Bryon cracks another beer and Will looks at me apologetically.
Well fuck.
*
Several hours later, I accepted that I am in fact not the next great American fisherman, since I hadn’t had another single bite. I also accepted the title of bait girl. Each time one of the boys caught a fish that made my little Moby look like nothing more than a goldfish, I dutifully rebaited their hooks and happily sat back, watching as the tension and hesitation melted between Kyle and his dad and brother. I would not consider this day a loss, not by a long shot.
I’m currently standing in a very tiny powder room below deck, scrubbing the fish juice from my hands when I look up and see Will in the small mirror above the sink. He’s holding a towel and when I turn to take it, the confines of the bathroom press our bodies close together. Much closer than they should be.
“Thanks,” I breathe out, accepting the towel.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“You bought me medicine,” I state.
“I did.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says.
I tilt my head back and meet his stare, hoping that my mind isn’t playing tricks on me when I catch more than a hint of desire in his eyes. “Will,” I rasp.
“Poppy, I- “
The boat suddenly comes to a noticeable stop, jarring us both from what I want to believe was a two sided moment. Clumsy footsteps on the stairs separate us even further and Will turns back the way he came. I turn back to the sink and splash some cold water on my flushed cheeks.
“You all right?” Kyle asks, poking his head into the small space.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I smile, patting my face dry. I follow him through the small galley and back up to see that we’re back at the marina.
When we get back to the hotel, we all go our separate ways. When we arrive back at our suite, I hesitate before heading to my bedroom, unable to help myself and my burgeoning curiosity. “Hey, so, Mimi mentioned something about Will and Amanda today. Were they, like, engaged?”
“Yeah, they were. Didn’t I mention that?” he says, slipping off his shoes and checking his phone.
“No, I don’t think you did,” I say nonchalantly. Stop now Poppy. Stop being nosy.
“Hm, I thought I did,” he says. “We’ve known the Kings forever. Everyone just kind of figured Will and Amanda would end up together. They were engaged for a while during college but she called it off.”
“Why did she call it off?”
“Hell if I know. I was like thirteen and dealing with my own issues,” he says. “I do remember Will kind of fell apart,” he continues. “He left college for a while and camped out in the guest house. He didn’t really talk to anyone or do anything and then one day he just kind of got over it, I guess. He went back to school and no one ever really mentioned it again. Typical Edwards style,” he scoffs.
“Have you ever talked to him about it?”
“Nah,” he says, scrolling through his phone. “He was different after,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been serious and shit but it was worse after Amanda. He never brought anyone home after that, just the random date when duty called and he pretty much buried himself in school and then work. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just curious,” I explain. “He seems nice. I was just being nosy I guess.”
“Hm. All right, I’m going to put my leg up. I’m bagged,” he says, heading for his bedroom. “You should go out or something.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
The intention to go anywhere dies the minute I lay back on my bed, replaying my conversation with Kyle and feeling something for Will that, for the first time since I met him, is in no way is centred around lust.
Chapter Twelve
Sheba, Queen of the Camel Toe
Subtitle: Sex Wizard
“If you’re not uncomfortable, you’re not living.”
I don’t actually know who said that, or if it’s even a legitimate quote, but if it is, then I am most definitely living. I’m currently climbing a wooden ladder. A ladder that leads to a makeshift treehouse sitting atop a peak in a lush valley in the middle of the Hawaiian rainforest. The landscape is truly beyond gorgeous, and if I weren’t about to be hurled down a wire in the middle of said valley, I’d be appreciating my surroundings with a bit more enthusiasm. As I climb, I wonder just how I ended up in this predicament. I suppose it began how most uncomfortable situations begin…with a cinnamon raisin bagel.
Earlier this morning…
I smooth a layer of thick, fluffy cream cheese onto my toasted bagel, shoving half of it in my mouth as Amanda tells Kyle and his family about another one of her latest assignments.
“It was incredible,” she gushes. “I spent two weeks camping in a canvas tent in the Sahara Desert with nothing but my recorder, my camera, and my guide, Amare. We trailed behind a group of Swiss tourists who were big game hunting,” she continues. “The company that took them out had a notorious reputation for skirting the local hunting laws. By the time my article hit the stands, they were grovelling.”
“Look at you, honey,” Maureen says. “Travelling the world and taking down the bad guys.”
Pffft. It’s not like she’s Batman, I think to myself.
“I’m just doing what I love,” Amanda says.
I shove more of the obscenely coated bagel into my mouth and wash it down with a glass of papaya juice. I want to hate this wo
man so much I can taste it. But she’s so damn nice. And she exposes poachers. The only thing I’ve ever exposed is my nipples. By accident. It is completely illogical to want to hate her anyways, because basically it’s nothing more than INSANE jealousy. Speaking of, I look over at Will and see that he’s pretty much the only person sitting at the table not totally enthralled by Amanda and her do-gooder career highlights. I wonder if he still has feelings for her. I wonder if he wishes they were still together. I’m completely lost in my own head when I realize I’m answering a question that I didn’t even hear.
“Poppy?”
“Mmhm?”
“You sure you can handle it?” Kyle asks.
“Of course I can,” I say. Handle what?
“Then it’s settled,” Amanda says. “I’ll reach out to my contact and get us a deal.”
A deal on what?
“Y’all are gonna love zip lining,” she says.
“Huh?”
Before I can rewind the conversation and properly answer with a resounding N-O, everyone begins to stand from the table and I have no choice but to follow. I really need to stop talking to the voice in my head and start paying more attention.
Present moment…
So here I am, being strapped into a harness by a guy named Joe, visions of my own decapitation running rampant in my head. The only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit right now is the fact that this harness is currently riding up my crotch, providing anyone in the vicinity an up close and personal look at the outline of my vagina. I keep trying to maneuver myself in an attempt to lessen the obviousness of that outline, but my efforts are proving to be unsuccessful. I don’t even want to know how this getup would feel on a set of balls. Adding insult to injury is the fact that my boobs are currently being smooshed by some kind of medieval torture chamber. I glance over at Amanda’s crotch. Of course she doesn’t have a raging camel toe. She looks like Adventure Barbie.
“Are you nervous?” she asks.
Yes. “No, this is going to be fun,” I say. “Soo much fun.”
Of course I could have turned the hell around when we arrived and refused to do this, but dammit, my pride wouldn’t let me. If she can do it, so can I. Way to be mature, Poppy.