Page 13 of Adrift

“Yoohoo.” She waves her long nails at me.

“Me?” Fuck, she better have the wrong yacht. We aren’t ready for guests.

“Yes, you, silly. Come get my bags.” The white skirt she has on wraps around her ass but not much else. Her blue and white striped crop top plunges to a single little button, and that button is working overtime. The white beret cocked on her head holds back a mass of blonde hair. She waves at me again.

“Are you sure you’re looking for theRock Candy?” Against my better judgment, I make my way to the back deck and the gangplank. My face comes flush with the top of her head.

She gives me an upward look through her fake lashes, one that tells me how exasperated she is with me. “Yes, I’m looking for the Candy Rock. Are you going to take my luggage?” She puts her hand on her hip and all but taps her toe at me.

“One second.” I grab my radio. “Captain, Zane.”

“Go ahead Zane.”

“I have someone here who is looking to come aboard theRock Candy.” I might emphasize the correct name of the boat a little. “What’s your name?” I ask, not on the radio.

“Brianna Snodgrass.” She cocks her head, her lips puffed out.

The radio squawks static. I need to remember to talk to Calvin about adjusting the antennas. We need to have good communication to run a smooth team. “Her name is Brianna Snodgrass,” I repeat to the captain.

The mic clicks on. “Bring her on board. That’s our third stew. Let her know I’m up in the wheelhouse. Have her come up and talk to me first, before getting settled.”

“Copy that, Captain.” I hook the radio onto my belt. “You heard that, I take it?” I raise my eyebrows at the sassy over-packer in front of me.

“Yes, I heard that.” She drops her purse and her backpack in a pile next to her suitcases on the dock and saunters down the gangplank.

“Hey, excuse me?” I call to her barely covered backside. “You’re going to need to help bring your own luggage on board.”

Her eyes flip down to my bare toes and up to my sunglasses resting on the top of my head. “Isn’t that your job?” She pivots back to the boat.

“Yeah, for passengers. I’m more than happy to help you, but at least grab a couple of things.” My arms are flailing around the bags like a silent movie actor.

She doesn’t stop, not a pause. Just heads right into the boat. It crosses my mind to push the bags into the ocean. But I’m an environmentalist, and they would sink to the bottom of the harbor. With my luck, we’d hit them and I’d have to dig a Gucci belt out of the propeller.

I pick the two bigger bags, push them onto the gangplank, and manhandle them on board, leaving the two smaller bags on the dock because she can come back and get those herself. There’s pretty good security here in the marina. The more expensive boats and mega yachts are down a long, gated dock. The bags are safe, most likely. Part of me hopes they aren’t.

I wrangle the two large bags up a flight of stairs just to have to take them down three to the crew mess. The bags bounce down there with me. Am I careful not to scratch the walls? Yes. Am I careful with the bags? Hell no. I treat them like a baggage handler at LaGuardia who’s working his third overtime shift in a week.

When I push them into the galley, Haley has her never-ending list spread across the table. Her hair is twisted up into a messy bun with a pencil sticking out of it. Something else too. The seat next to her beckons me, and I slide into it.

“What ya up to?” I cock my head, dropping it almost onto her shoulder. Damn, she smells good. If it wasn’t creepy, I could just follow her around and sniff her. Shit, I need to get laid.

“Lists, but they’re almost pointless. There’s that much to do. But I’ve prioritized the most important things.” There’s an untouched sandwich sitting in front of her.

Shayla comes down the hallway singing some Broadway song I don’t know. She plops down next to me, pushing me into Haley. I might have to pay Shayla as a wingman if she keeps it up. “Oh my gosh. Haley, eat your sandwich,” she yells in my ear.

Haley glances up from her list, then gathers up the paper and takes a bite of her sandwich. “Fine,” she says with her mouth full. “It’s delicious.” She chews half the sandwich, finishing it in three bites.

Watching her eat shouldn’t turn me on.

Shayla pours a glass of milk and puts it in front of Haley. “You ready to get back to work?” She wiggles her hips. “What the heck are those?” She points at the gigantic bags both of the stews hadn’t noticed before.

“Those little babies belong to third stew, Miss Brianna Snodgrass.” I whistle because if I say what I want to, I’ll come off as a dick. “She’s up with the captain now.”

“Ooh, what’s she like?” Shayla asks.

“She’s something you’re gonna have to experience for yourself. This is just part of her luggage, by the way. There’s a few more on the dock, but she can get those herself. I’ve got to get back to the deck.” I push out of the bench, reluctantly leaving. But shit, I’ve got a lot to do. Hopefully, after we’ve gotten this boat, well, ship-shape, we’ll have more time to get to know each other.

“If you see her, can you tell her to come find me? Because yeah. Oh, lord.” Haley stares at the massive bags. And back at Shayla.

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