After passing through a row of all-inclusive resorts that also blocked her ocean view, they emerged into what Maureen assumed was the beginning of downtown. The ocean appeared again in the distance and she could see massive cruise liners that looked like small cities; she marveled at how they managed to float. She admired a colorful row of restaurant shacks on her left marked “Arawak Cay” and made a note to ask Brad if they could eat there.
When they’d made it downtown, Stephen slowed as a horse-drawn carriage pulled in front of him with a family of sunburned tourists in the back. Cruise ship passengers packed the streets, passing in and out of the mixture of high-end, duty-free boutiques and cheap, tacky t-shirt shops. Music poured out of the top floor of a crowded bar with bikini-top-clad girls hanging over the balcony, calling out to folks below. It was two-o-clock in the afternoon, but the party never stopped. As they passed the main thoroughfare, East Bay Street emptied out and the shops turned from high-end boutiques to empty storefronts, betting shops, and liquor stores.
They turned left on to a high-arched bridge, and Stephen spoke for the first time in thirty minutes. “Nearly there,” he said. “We’re docked at the Atlantis berths at the Marina Village. I hate this dock—too touristy—but it’s what your boyfriend wanted.”
Maureen flushed with pleasure at the thought, but whispered, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Stephen looked at her for a few long seconds before he turned his attention to the woman in the tollbooth on the far side of the bridge. He handed her two dollars and then pulled through, turning onto the manicured streets of Paradise Island.
Maureen swirled that sweet word, “boyfriend,” around in her brain and felt prickly at the thought of seeing Brad. She had been practicing Magnificent Mo, relying heavily on “Cosmopolitan,” since Wednesday night, and she felt ready to put her into action.
My life is about to change, she thought. Something is about to happen, and nothing will ever be the same.
19
The Lauren Belle
They parked the van in a covered parking lot and crossed a street toward a tiny path with a dark, leafy entrance. As they emerged from the path, Maureen found herself in a little village of shops, restaurants, cobblestones, and drum music. Tourists chased after running children and called out to each other about dinner reservations as they stood, staring at menus outside the restaurants.
It didn’t feel quite real to Maureen. She imagined a movie set felt just like this: just too perfect to be real. They passed a little ice cream shop on the left, and she caught a whiff of grilling meat from the fancy-looking steakhouse next door. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized how hungry she was. She had been too nervous to eat breakfast this morning, and her discount airline had offered nothing more than a bag of pretzels, which was still in her bag, uneaten.
“There she is,” Maureen turned at the sound of Stephen’s voice. She was surprised to see a sweet smile on his face and even more surprised by her instant reaction to it. Her heart sped up a little as he turned the smile on her, realized what he was doing, and quickly reverted to stone face. Wow, she thought. Killer butt and killer smile. This guy needs to smile more often.
She turned in the direction Stephen was pointing. Across from the row of restaurants and shops on her left, there was a large, open space facing a stretch of that impossibly blue water. In the background, she recognized the shape of the iconic hotel, the Atlantis, from the commercials she’d drooled over on TV. In front of her, a low wall separated the pretty, cobblestoned streets from that stretch of water and a wooden dock.
Three boats nestled against it and Stephen was pointing to the first, docked directly in front of them, with the words “Lauren Belle” emblazoned on the side. As Stephen hurried toward the three-story white behemoth he had pointed out, Maureen froze to the spot. This was the boat? Not a boat, she corrected herself, a yacht. Maureen had never seen anything like it before in her life—not even on TV.
The Lauren Belle, climbing three stories into the sky, proudly sparkled and glinted in the sunlight, showing off her impeccably polished white exterior. On the main deck facing the village was an outdoor living room with an arrangement of couches built into the deck with bright, blue-striped upholstery and red cushions. A gleaming, fully-stocked wooden bar with brass fixtures faced the open living space. On the upper deck was a second open space with a large dining area and striped awning, which provided much-needed shade. On the top deck, Maureen could see two jet skis parked under protective fabric covers.
It seemed that, everywhere she looked, people were working. A young girl was polishing the wooden bar in long, lazy strokes while staring out at the tourists who had stopped in front of the low wall to admire the Lauren Belle and take photos. As Maureen watched the girl, she saw her send a flirty wink to a guy holding the hand of his sunburned girlfriend who was turned in the opposite direction, idly picking up conch shells from a gift cart on the street. Maureen marveled at her bravery.
Two young guys were rinsing the outside of the boat with hoses and giant sponges. A pinched-faced man with a gray beard was standing on the second level, watching the group rush around, and an imposing, dark-skinned hulk of a man was bringing out a tray of food. He placed it on the table in the outdoor living room and then waited for Stephen to bounce up the stairs onto the Lauren Belle. They gave each other a friendly high-five.
Maureen hiked her bag up onto her shoulder and turned to face the alleyway they had just emerged from. What was she doing here? She didn’t belong here. Okay, so she had managed to be Magnificent Mo in the safety of her friend’s apartment. This was a whole new ballgame, though! There was no way she could walk up to that yacht and feel comfortable for one second, let alone flirt with Brad the same time. She wasn’t even as cool as the worldly, sophisticated, crisply-dressed crew, let alone as cool as the people who lived on these yachts. Her heart was pounding, her hands sweating, and her stomach fluttering. This was a huge mistake—she had to go home. She definitely wouldn’t survive another silent car ride with that intimidating Stephen, so she would just walk out of here, figure out where to get a taxi, and go right back to the airport.
She had taken a step toward the alleyway when she felt a large hand descend on her shoulder. She turned and looked up into kind, brown eyes and a bright, white smile: it was the huge guy who had given Stephen the high-five. He looked at least six-foot-five and had the chest and arms to match. He squeezed her shoulder, and in spite of his obvious strength, the butterfly lightness of his touch gave away his gentle nature.
“Going so soon, Mummee?” His smile widened, and she couldn’t help smiling back.
“No, I was just… I was looking… I think I have to go…” she stammered.
“Don’t let Mr. Boss fool you—he’s a good man. He ain’t scary once you get to know him.” His accent was strong and different from the fast Bahamian sound she had heard from the airport staff.
“Mr. Boss?”
“Stephen, our, er, first mate.” The big man turned her gently and pointed to the driver who was eating from the platter the big man had brought out. Was he allowed to do that? “He’s a good man, but maybe you didn’t like him and thought you’d go look for your boyfriend before you came on the boat?"
Maureen realized Stephen hadn't even introduced himself. Yes, he was rude, but she wasn't scared of him.
"No, it's just that I was thinking maybe I would go for a walk or something. Or... something."
The big guy rubbed gently at her shoulder. It was very calming. "Mr. Brad went out this morning and it didn’t seem like he was planning on coming back for a while. I made you some lunch. Why not come aboard and meet everybody?”
Her nerves calmed under his touch. She could do this. She had to do this. What choice did she have? Fly back to New Jersey and tell everyone what a failure she was?
“Okay,” she gave him a nervous smile, and his grin got bigger, if that was even possible.
He thrust his hand toward her, and she
watched as her tiny hand disappeared in his. “Joe Pascal,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mummee, and I hope I can make your stay with us as good as you hope it will be. I’m the cook for the Lauren Belle. I’ve been working here since she first set sail five years ago. She's a friendly gal, and she loves company.”
Maureen shook his giant hand, starting to feel a bit braver. “Maureen. You can call me Mo.”
“Okay. Miss Mo. Come eat some of my food and meet everyone who will take care of you.”
Maureen looked at the boat to find that everyone had stopped working and all were staring at her. All had smiles, except for two of them. Stephen was picking at what she assumed was her lunch plate and frowning, and the man on the second-floor deck had no expression. She felt her nerves flicker again, but she didn’t have a chance to reconsider as Joe dragged her toward the deck. She was headed to her next adventure.
20
Trouble in Paradise
Stephen stood in the cockpit of the Lauren Belle with Captain Don and Junior Captain Marshall Brook. Marshall was not happy, and Stephen could feel his headache and irritation expanding as this crappy day wore on. Maybe taking this assignment was a huge mistake. He should have stayed home and wallowed, instead.
Captain Don had called the two of them up to the cockpit after the crew had assembled in the outdoor living room to greet the girl, Maureen. Apparently, neither one of them had done a satisfactory job at making her feel welcome; Captain Don had sent Ginny to take the girl on a tour and show her to her cabin.
“First of all,” Captain Don pointed a finger at Stephen, “you need to cheer up a bit. These are guests we have on this boat, not interlopers, and you need to at least attempt friendly customer service. I understand you are going through a rough patch, but you made me a promise and you aren’t working very hard at fulfilling it.”
He turned to Marshall and said in a rougher voice, “I don’t know what’s up with you, but you need to relax or you are going to cause a disagreement between me and my friend, Steve, here,” he chucked his thumb in Stephen’s direction. “Again, this is a two-week assignment at most. The more we focus on doing our assigned jobs, the better this will go. Understand?”
“No one said anything about having a woman on board.” Marshall seemed to be able to talk without moving his lips—a fascinating trick that Stephen had tried to mimic to no avail. “This was supposed to be just one male individual. That was what was agreed.” He looked over at Stephen, who nodded.
“Gotta agree with Marshall on this one, Don.” He collapsed into the cushioned, leather pilot’s seat and started digging through the drawer, looking for something to help his pounding head. “You sprung this chick on us this morning out of nowhere. What happened?”
Now Don looked like he had a headache. “I don’t know. I guess he thought he wanted some company. It’s not unusual to want a girl around, is it?”
“He’s been here for three days and he’s had plenty of girls around,” Marshall said. “Why does he need to have someone come and stay for two weeks?”
“She’s not exactly his type,” Stephen added, still scrambling through the junk drawer. “She said ‘thank you’ for the lunch plate.”
“After you’d eaten half of it!” Captain Don reached over and picked up his briefcase. He pulled out a blister pack of pills and tossed them to Stephen, “I believe this is what you are looking for.”
“Thanks,” Stephen said, “my head is killing me.”
“Perhaps it’s related to the empty bottle of scotch Carl removed from your cabin this morning.” Marshall looked away as he spoke this sentence quietly, but Stephen still heard him. He stepped around to face him and looked him in the eye.
“Excuse me?” Stephen said injecting a purposeful edge to his voice.
Marshall turned pale and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I misspoke… excuse me.”
“Okay, guys,” Captain Don stepped between them, “the last thing I need right now are staff issues.” He turned to Stephen, “You know what I mean. Everything needs to be as steady and normal as possible.”
Stephen turned toward the door of the cockpit. “I’m going to lie down for an hour before the lovable Brad gets back. I’ll do my best to be nicer, Don, I promise.”
As he headed toward his cabin, he wondered yet again why he had agreed to this assignment. He was only on day three and he already felt like he wanted to tear everyone’s head off. It certainly wasn’t taking his mind off things as Don had promised it would. He didn’t need the money right now and he didn’t need the hassle. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he was only doing it for Don. He felt as though he’d neglected his good friend during the past few years and owed him some reparations. Who knew it would be this hard?
As he negotiated the tight hallway on the way back to his cabin, he passed the door to Maureen’s suite and couldn’t help peeking inside. The girl was sitting on her queen bed; her clothes were already unpacked and hung in the slim closet by Ginny, and a pile on the suite chair was waiting to be picked up for ironing. She looked a little stunned. What was it that she had said on the ride over here? She had never seen the ocean before? What kind of society girl had never left New Jersey?
“Is everything okay?” She jumped at the sound of his voice and immediately flushed a bright pink.
“Oh, hi! Sure, yes, I’m fine. Just getting used to the surroundings. It’s all kind of new to me. Everything’s beautiful, and you're all so kind. My lunch was incredible—Joe is such a nice man.”
Stephen smiled at the mention. “He is. If you need anything, you can find him. He’ll take care of you.”
“What’s your job?” Maureen asked, her brow crinkling.
“I’m first mate,” he said, feeling irritation creep up again. “I look after the boat and the crew. Joe looks after the passengers.”
Maureen flushed red again. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean you should look after me. I was just curious about what you did. I’ve never been on a boat before.” She looked down and began to pick at the silk quilt.
Stephen felt a surprising rush of tenderness, and his irritation faded. Who was this girl and what was she doing with that Brad guy? She didn’t fit the mold, at all. He couldn't help but worry she was about to get eaten alive.
21
Out of Depth
Maureen stood in front of the mirror in her spacious bathroom and took stock. She looked tired—tired and frightened and lost, which is exactly how she felt. She certainly didn’t look magnificent, so she was off to a good start.
When she had stepped onto the yacht and her hand was in Joe’s big, comforting grasp, the crew had lined up like she was some kind of visiting dignitary. She wanted to yell out at all of them to stop looking at her like that and that she wasn’t important—she was just Maureen. Amazingly, however, she’d managed to keep her cool. For some reason, her brain conjured memories of the seeing the Queen of England on TV, so she’d found herself mimicking her gentle smile and stiff, formal handshakes. It didn’t seem to impress anyone, but it kept her calm enough to get through the lineup without either bursting out laughing or breaking down into nervous sobs.
There were seven people on this yacht and they were all here to look after Brad. And me, she thought, they are here to look after me. How embarrassing. Brad wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here all day, and from the sound of it, he hadn’t been around much in the days since he had arrived. She’d asked Ginny during her tour of the yacht, which she’d presented in a bored, unimpressed tone while Maureen attempted to keep her mouth from hanging open in shock.
“This is the living, dining area,” Ginny intoned, sweeping her arms around a space nearly as large as Sally and Tod’s loft. “It takes up this whole rear section of the boat and leads out to the outdoor living deck, as you can see.” The space was luxurious with bright, highly-polished hardwood across both the floors and the walls. A dark, smoky mirror covered the ceiling, but the room was bright and airy, due to
the long stretches of crystal-clear windows. There were two modern, white, leather couches piled with cushions facing each other and separated by a large, black coffee table. The dining table was also a highly-polished black and surrounded by eight black, leather chairs. It wasn’t Maureen’s style, but it screamed expensive and was as intimidating as heck. She much preferred the beachy outdoor living feel of the deck.
Maureen smiled at Ginny. “It’s lovely, but why would you sit in here when you can sit out there in the sun?”
Ginny smirked. “Wait until you get caught in a storm and are puking your guts up. You won’t want to be out there or in here. You’ll be squatting in front of your toilet, praying for death. It sucks!”
Okay, Maureen had thought, not a friendly ally.
Ginny had given her the rest of the tour in the same monotone bordering on disdain. There were three passenger suites on this yacht, each with an en suite bathroom. There was room on the boat for twelve crew members, but they rarely exceeded seven, which was fine with Ginny, she said, as it meant she got her own space.
“Can you imagine bunking with those idiots, Carl and Jim?” Ginny had rolled her eyes and moved on. Carl and Jim were the other deckhands. As far as Maureen could tell, Ginny was a deckhand, too, although she seemed to put herself in a different category.
Both men had seemed lovely to Maureen when she met them outside: they had strong handshakes, tanned, eager faces, and bright smiles. Maureen had shrugged and jogged after Ginny, who was moving faster as they ended the tour. To Maureen’s surprise, there had been three more outdoor spaces, including the dining area she had spotted from the village sidewalk. On the front of the boat, there was another outdoor living area with plenty of shade and, stunningly, an enormous hot tub. This yacht was incredible.
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 7