I opened the envelope and read the citation: ninety-seven dollars for failure to display a valid parking pass at California State Park number 24476 on July 22 at 1:42 p.m.
It had to be a mistake. I hadn’t been to any state parks lately. But the license plate and car description matched mine.
I opened my laptop and entered the park number. A map popped up, showing a park about two miles inland from the beach in Ventura County. My heart dropped.
July 22. I had a sinking feeling about what day that was, but pulled up my calendar to be sure. I was right: July 22 was this past Saturday. The day Summer borrowed my car to go to her mother’s house in the desert, the opposite direction of Ventura. The day Eric went missing.
Day 6
Thursday night—somewhere off the coast of Italy
I’m nearly finished packing when there’s a knock on my cabin door. I open it to Camille, who holds a dinner tray, a sympathetic look in her eyes. I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying to look less rattled than I feel. “I guess I’m the one stuck here this time,” I joke. She doesn’t seem to catch my meaning right away, though, so I add, more seriously, “I sent the money.”
She sets the tray on my bed as I rifle through my wallet for the receipt and hand it to her.
“Merci beaucoup,” she says, her eyes reddening again. She takes a breath. “I’m sorry you eat in your room. If you want, there is un petit crew deck, opposite the upper deck. Guests not allowed, but no one will see. We serve tonight. If you go there, you will be alone.”
“Wow, thank you,” I say. “That sounds a lot better than being stuck in here all night. My seasickness isn’t great down here, even with medicine.”
She smiles, indicating the door at the end of the hallway. “The crew door is open. Take the stairs to the top.”
“I will. That is so kind of you.”
After she leaves, I sit on my bed to eat my dinner, ruminating about what I could have done differently this week, but I can’t come up with anything that would have made a difference. Regardless of whether I’d remained completely sober at Marlena’s birthday party and been three minutes earlier to meet the boat today, I have a feeling Summer would’ve just come up with another reason to find fault with me.
I’m almost finished with dinner when Amythest opens the door and slips inside, checking that no one is in the hallway before closing the door behind her. “Hey.” She’s on edge, whispering, her teeth stained purple with wine.
“How’d dinner go?”
“Well, first off, Brittani cornered me on the way up the stairs and chewed me out for the way I’ve been acting, said I was ungrateful and had embarrassed her and she wished she’d never brought me here.”
Brittani, embarrassed? “Why was she mad at you?”
“Because her sister’s giving her shit for bringing me, I’m sure.”
“But what is she saying you’ve done wrong? Brittani doesn’t know about John, does she?”
“She does now.” Amythest smirks.
I’m incredulous. “You told her?”
She laughs. “She thinks she’s better than me just because her sister’s screwing a billionaire? Well, I am, too, so fuck her.”
Oh God. “And then what happened?” I ask, fearing the worst.
“I mean, dinner was pretty uneventful. John wasn’t there. Summer was trying to act like everything was normal, but everybody was real quiet. It was weird that you weren’t there. Then Brittani made some comment about how if Summer was going to banish you, she should banish me, too. I’m sure she was saying it just to try to get back on Summer’s good side, but Summer got upset and said she makes her own decisions and not to tell her what to do.”
“Brittani used the word ‘banish’? I’m impressed.”
She nods. “All right in front of me, like I wasn’t there. Then, after we finished dinner, I saw Brittani whispering with Summer. Everybody was going to the front of the boat to watch the sunset, but I snuck away to come down here. Summer followed me down the stairs and grabbed my arm so hard it’s bleeding.” She displays her arm.
I inspect the little red half-moons around her elbow. “Damn.”
“And she said to ‘stay away from my man, you little whore,’ and I said ‘Or what?’ and she said ‘You don’t wanna mess with me,’ and then she went upstairs.”
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. This whole trip has been like The Real Housewives on a boat, only there’s no television crew to mediate, and I have a terrible feeling it’s not going to turn out however Amythest thinks it is.
She paces the small room like it’s a cell. “I need a fucking cigarette so fucking bad right now.”
I sit on the bed. “So Summer knows.”
“Oh yeah, she knows.”
I rub my temples, my head suddenly throbbing. “Amythest, I’m sorry, but what the hell were you thinking? You need to go right back and say it was a bad joke or something.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She snorts.
“I guess you’ll be coming home with me tomorrow.” If she’s lucky. This is not good. I have to say something. But can I trust her to keep her mouth shut?
“Doubt it. He wants me to meet him in his office later so we can fuck. He sure is horny for someone who can’t get it up without a pill.”
“It’s a power thing for him,” I say. “Everything’s about power with him.”
“Anyway, I don’t think she’s said anything to him about me yet.”
“I doubt she’s gonna say anything to him,” I venture. “She wants to hold on to her position. She doesn’t want to sink the ship.”
I watch Amythest prowl back and forth in the small space like a caged animal. She’s spoiling for a fight, but there’s no way this ends well for her. “Why don’t you just chill with me tonight?” I suggest. “Camille told me there’s a hidden crew deck. I was gonna go up there and hang out. And I bet if you told Brittani that you wanted to go home, she’d make the case to Summer, which would give her an excuse to get John to get you a ticket to go back tomorrow without having to confront him about hooking up with you.”
She considers. “No. I’m gonna go back up there.”
“Why? What do you think is going to happen?”
She shrugs. “She thinks she’s better than me, but she’s not. I want to make her as uncomfortable as she’s made me.”
I try a different tactic. “You know you’re in the wrong here,” I point out. “You’re sleeping with her boyfriend on a trip she invited you on.”
“She didn’t invite me. Brittani did. And he’s married to someone else, so what the shit did she expect?” she scoffs. “Like I said, if she woulda been nice, I woulda left it alone. But she wasn’t, so this is what she gets.”
And here we are again. I bite my lip. It’s now or never. “Here’s the thing,” I say. “You know how Summer’s ex committed suicide?”
She nods. “I didn’t know it was a suicide.”
I take a deep breath. “That’s just it.…It wasn’t.” I exhale.
Her dark eyes go wide. “Are you saying she killed him?”
“Something like that,” I say quietly.
“What?” She stares at me, unglued. “Oh my God. How do you know—does she know you know?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s not—” I’m already regretting telling her. “Please don’t say anything to her.”
“This is insane. She’s insane.” She’s pacing again. “Wait—why are you—”
“Amythest,” I cut in. “I’ve already said too much.”
“But you can’t just drop that. You have to tell me—”
“I can’t,” I say. Suddenly my head is throbbing, swimming with images of microphones planted throughout the room. Please God, let me only be being paranoid. “I really can’t. You just have to trust me. And no one knows about this—not Wendy, not anybody. So please—please, don’t say anything to anyone. Promise me.”
She squeezes my hand. “Okay, okay! I pr
omise I won’t say anything. But I can’t promise I won’t bug you for more info later tonight. And I can’t promise I won’t see John.”
My heart sinks. She rises and smooths her hair in the mirror, her gold earrings glinting in the light. I wish I had some way to protect her from Summer, and from herself. I suddenly have an idea. I slip the gold watch from my wrist for the first time on this whole trip and hold it out to her. “It’ll look perfect with your dress,” I offer. “And it’s a fuck you to Summer from me. She wanted to try it on, but I wouldn’t let her. This way she’ll know I’ve got your back.”
She slides it over her wrist with a smile. “Thank you.” She blows me a kiss and slams the door behind her. As soon as she’s left, I notice her cell phone lying on her bed. I quickly grab it and poke my head into the hall. “Amythest!”
Nothing. I start up the stairs. “Amythest? Your phone!”
No reply. I don’t want to go any farther for fear of running into Summer or one of the goons, so I turn around and nearly collide with Bernard, coming out of his room. I instinctually hide the phone behind my back and move to the side of the hallway to let him pass, lowering my eyes. He points to my quarters, and I dutifully step inside, praying he doesn’t lock my door. I give him a minute to ascend the stairs, then slip out of my room and through the door to the crew area.
The hallway on the staff side is tighter than the hallway on our side, and the rooms are packed closely together. I poke my head into the laundry room, where Camille is ironing sheets, and she looks up and smiles. Across the hall, Hugo and Dre are having a laugh over dinner in the tiny crew kitchen.
I take the stairs at the end of the corridor two at a time, all the way up, up, up to the door at the top, and push it open, stepping onto a deck about the size of my apartment balcony. We must have started the trip to Italy, because we’re moving faster than usual. Or maybe it just feels that way from up here. The sky is wild and red with the setting sun, the ocean breeze refreshing as the boat cuts through the sea.
I lean over the railing and peer below. I’m on the front side of the sundeck directly above the upper deck. I can barely hear the other girls’ voices above the noise of the engine and water. I try to pick out the tone of the group, but it all blends with the sound of the motor and the water into a kind of contented, soothing murmur. I wish I could see, but I would have to lean out farther than I’m comfortable doing at this speed to spy on them.
I turn and gasp when I see Camille behind me with a glass of wine. “Sorry,” I say. “You startled me.” I take the glass, considering whether one of the goons could have somehow spiked it. “This may sound odd, but did you pour this yourself?” I ask.
She nods. “You need anything else?” she asks.
“This is perfect, thank you. Just let me know if they come looking for me.”
She nods and goes back inside. I sink into the lounger and take a tentative sniff of my wine. The wine smells fine—great, even—but I still decide the better of drinking it, just in case, and set it on the table next to my chair.
Golden cliffs rise dramatically from the sea, their peaks crowned with little villages that must have been there hundreds of years, though I can’t imagine how some of them were built. I’m not sure how long we’ve been moving at this clip, or whether we’ve reached Italy, but the coast is less crowded wherever we are. We pass a few yachts and cruise ships, but nothing like the traffic around Saint-Tropez. I lay my head back and watch the sky slowly darken.
I wake with a start to the sound of arguing. It’s dark and I’m disoriented, unsettled by a vivid dream of falling into deep water, unable to reach the surface. How long have I been asleep? I look at my empty wrist, remembering Amythest has my watch––but her phone is still in my pocket. I check the time––nearly eleven We’re still moving at a good clip, and there’s a chill on the wind. I could use a sweater.
The moonless night is lit only by the stars; I can’t see the line where the sky meets the sea. There are no boats or towns on the horizon, but I can feel the ocean heaving beneath us as we plow through the water. We must be farther out than usual, still moving quickly toward Italy.
A spike in the conversation below. Two female voices. I can only imagine it’s Amythest and…someone. Brittani or Summer, most likely. I’ve never once heard Claire raise her voice, and Wendy’s not one to argue. It could be Rhonda, but the voices sound younger. I try to make out what they’re saying, but the words are drowned out by the sound of the boat.
I edge over to the railing, straining to see below without leaning out too far. The boat pitches over the rolling sea, and I brace myself, holding tightly to the railing.
A third voice rises above the wind.
“Summer!” That, I think, is Rhonda. “Leave…not worth…” The rest is lost.
The voices quiet down. I struggle to catch another phrase or even a word, but it’s all too muffled. They must have moved to the other side of the boat. I might as well go back to the room and finish packing. I’m sure Amythest will fill me in later.
Before I can open the door, a scream rips into the silence. Just one scream, bloodcurdling. A thump, the sound of something hitting the boat, and the scream stops abruptly. I listen for anything further, but all I hear is the sound of the boat cutting through the water.
I fling open the door and dash down the stairs two at a time until I reach the crew quarters. I burst into the kitchen, where most of the crew is eating dinner.
“I heard a scream,” I cry. “I think it was on the bow side of the upper deck. And I thought I heard something hitting the boat.”
Immediately all crew members are on their feet and pushing past me, dinner abandoned. I follow on their heels, my orders to stay in my room forgotten.
“There was arguing,” I add as we cut through the empty living room, “but I’m not sure who it was.”
Half the crew splits off toward the bridge, and the rest of us race out the doors, up the spiral stairs, and around the side of the boat to the bow of the upper deck. As we come around the corner, I see a pool of dark-red liquid on the deck and gasp before I notice the remains of a shattered wineglass rolling with the pitch of the boat. It’s only red wine.
Summer, Rhonda, Brittani, Wendy, and Claire are huddled against the wall looking shell-shocked. Claire is sobbing softly into Wendy’s shoulder, while Brittani and Rhonda have their arms around Summer, crying tearlessly into her wine.
Amythest is missing.
The boat lurches forward as it slows suddenly, sending us all scrambling for something to brace against. The exterior lights go on, illuminating the inky depths below.
“What happened?” Julie asks.
The other women look at each other in stunned silence before anyone speaks.
“Amythest…she…just fell in,” Rhonda finally says.
Julie speaks into her headset. “Man overboard.” Then, urgently to Rhonda, “Where? How long ago?”
Rhonda points at the railing just past us. “It just happened.”
Julie speaks into her headset. “Man overboard, starboard bow, deck two. Man overboard. One to two minutes.”
“She can’t swim,” I say.
Everyone looks at me.
“She told me on the plane over here.”
I hear a tender splash into the water behind the boat, followed by another two splashes in rapid succession. Then the engines of the tender and Jet Skis fire up and speed off. The boat begins to slowly turn. I follow Camille to the railing where Amythest fell and look over.
We both see the streak of deep red smeared down the side of the boat at the same time. My hand flies to my mouth. This streak is not wine. My heart sinks like a stone.
Julie leans over and looks, then speaks into her headset. “PIW injured, most likely unconscious.”
I see something glint and kneel down next to where Amythest went overboard. Half of a bedazzled red nail rests on a fresh deep scratch in the wood. I feel the eyes of the other girls on me as I point it out
to Camille and Julie.
“What happened?” Julie asks.
“She was drunk.” Summer folds her arms across her chest. “She just fell over. None of us could get to her in time. It happened so fast.”
Julie studies the railing. “What was she doing before she fell? It’s a high railing to fall over.”
Wendy and Claire huddle together against the wall in stunned silence with their arms around each other, watching the exchange.
“She was playing on it,” Summer says. “We told her not to, but she did it anyway, and she fell.”
“Which way did she fall?” Julie asks.
“Over,” Brittani snaps, choking on her tears. “Can you just fucking go get her?”
“Brittani—” Rhonda warns, grabbing her arm.
“Frontward or backward?” Julie asks. She’s trying desperately to maintain an air of composure, but I notice her hands are shaking.
“I don’t know!” Summer retorts. “She’s in the water, and you should be saving her, but you’re just standing here asking stupid questions. It’s gonna be your fault if she dies.” She buries her head in her hands, and Rhonda puts her arms around her.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re trained for this sort of thing,” Julie says evenly. “Let’s get you all inside while we wait for the Coast Guard.”
“Where’s John?” Summer asks. “He knows people. He can get the best people out here.”
In the living room, we find John and Vinny waiting for us with a couple of the other crew members. Summer rushes into John’s arms, crying, “Oh, it’s just terrible! I saw her go over, and I couldn’t do anything!”
Wendy and Claire huddle together on one couch; Rhonda and Brittani cluster on the other. I take a seat next to Wendy and give her a little hug. She’s trembling.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Shock, I think.”
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