Page 11 of Adrift

Damn, now I’m getting hard. I pivot the notebook back in the direction I found it, grab my dry toast and coffee, and head back to the bridge to finish my own bridge checklist.

Hours go by. I hear movement in the main salon. It backs up to my cabin behind the bridge. The first officer’s cabin is next to mine, but he’s down with Calvin and the engineers running a test on the engines.

My phone dings. It’s Marjory. She’s like the headhunter for the boat, but more like a casting director, making sure that all the personalities and talents dovetail together for the ship’s crew. I get the last word, but she finds the talent. She’s also responsible for the crew until they find their way on board.

“Howdy, Captain Sam.” The line’s got a ton of static on it.

“Marjory. How are things?”

“Well, canceling half theRock Candycrew wasn’t fun. But it’s done. I’ve got an issue. Chef missed his connection at LAX and is delayed by 24 hours.”

“Well, fuck. Sorry Marjory. I appreciate you doing the dirty work.”

She laughs and inhales, most likely through a cigarette. “You’re funny, Sam. I’ve heard a lot worse. Right now, he’s scheduled in five hours from when you gave the owner’s arrival.”

“Right. Well, thanks for letting me know.”

“Look at it this way, Sam. It can’t get worse.”

My jaw ticks. I’m not superstitious, but I don’t ask for things to get worse. “Right. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

I hang up. Damn it. The future Mrs. Rockwell is super picky about her food, which is why I have a new chef coming in. Last week, I suggested to Rocky they stay in the city and do some more shopping. But Candy wasn’t having any of it. And now the chef is going to be delayed. And the fanciest thing we’ve made since we left Singapore was a quesadilla with canned salsa.

I pick up my radio. “Haley, can you come to the bridge?”

“Copy, on my way,” squawks back over. She appears before my radio’s back on the charger. “Hey, Captain. What can I do for you?”

Not be so adorable. I make a mental note to do the sexual harassment training myself again. “Have a seat.” I incline my head to the raised bench in the back of the wheelhouse and sit in my captain’s chair. “So, you raised your hand at the crew meeting about cooking.”

“Crew food I can handle, but I’ve never cooked for guests, and certainly never for owners.” The tips of her ears are red.

“Right? Chef missed his connection at LAX. He’s going to be here tomorrow shortly before the owners come on board. I’m going to start unpacking the kitchen.” I make the decision on the spot. When I called her in here, I thought I’d have her do it. But holy hell, I’ve already swamped the girl with ten times the amount of work she can handle. Calvin and Anders can work this through. Right now, I’m watching the control panel. A trained dog could do what I’m doing. I swivel in my chair and grab the radio. “Captain for Anders.”

“Copy,” Anders replies.

“We’re going to have to do a lot more than help the chef. We’re going to have to set things up for him.”

“Copy,” my first officer says.

“Anders, send Waldo to the bridge to help out. I have to go work on the galley.”

“Copy.” He hesitates, and I don’t blame him. But they can walk Waldo through the steps.

Haley sits patiently, but I can see the clock ticking in her eyes. “What do you want me to do, Captain?”

Damn, I really need to at least read over the policy again. Because having her on her knees in front of me flashes before my eyes. “Piloting a boat, running a crew—I’ve got that downpat. But I could burn water, and I’d sooner have chicken breast and broccoli every day than French cuisine. I’m going to start unpacking the galley. And I need you to at least give me some idea of where I should put things so the chef doesn’t have to move everything.”

“Oh, yeah. I can do that. I mean?—”

“If he moves it when he gets here, that’s fine. Every chef is unique.” Which is my way of saying batshit crazy. But yeah.

Waldo and Anders arrive on the bridge a few seconds later. I nod at them and follow Haley into the galley, which is right behind my quarters. Boxes are stacked two tall on the counters and three and four tall on some of the floor.

“All right.” My jaw is locked. And I’m wishing I’d given this assignment to one of the deck crew a week ago. But we’ve been straight out with mechanicals. Haley’s staring, waiting for me. “What would your plan of attack be, Haley?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I guess I’d take all the dishes and carry them out to the dining room. Same thing with serving pieces. Shayla and I are finding boxes of glasses in the main salon. But there’s got to be more. I’ve seen the chef set up a section for savory and for pastry.” She’s rattling off what each cabinet might be used for, and my eyes are glazing over when she stops. “You know what? Let me get my sticky notes and I’ll label things. Unless you want me to do it.” She glances back to the main salon where Shayla has just let off a string of obscenities.

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