Page 9 of Adrift

“Haley?”

My eyes are hooded. All I can think of is a nice cup of herbal tea. On land, I might have been tempted to take one of my mother’s old sleeping pills, but I never bring any of them on board with me. That’s a quick way to get fired. “Just looking for some tea.” I rummage through a cabinet near the coffee maker and come up with nothing.

“Tea?” Calvin asks.

“Herbal tea. Something to help me fall asleep.”

“You’re practically sleepwalking.”

“Maybe, but I can’t turn my brain off.”

“Well, you need to try.” Calvin sounds like the captain now.

“I’m not going to be able to.”

“Not with that attitude, you’re not.” His smile fills his face with blindingly white, straight teeth. He inclines his square jawline to the cabins. “Anders did the provisioning for the initial ride here, and he’s more into vitamin water. I’m more than sure he didn’t order any herbal tea. Lots of protein powder, though.”

“Right.” I nod, my eyes closed.

“I have something for you.” He takes my shoulders in his massive hands and guides me back to my cabin. “Climb in bed.” I do, and he pulls the covers up to my chin. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” I close my eyes, but my to-do list dances at the speed of a Russian ballet behind my eyelids.

“Here.” He lifts the blanket and tucks something in with me. It’s soft and worn.

“What is this?”

“It’s my teddy bear. Works like a charm. And you can make fun of me if you want—I’m man enough to not care. Goodnight, Haley.” Calvin’s hair brushes the ceiling of my cabin.

“Thanks, Calvin.” I hug the bear to my chest, and it smells like him: man, a bit of diesel, and a cologne I can’t quite name. My brain is still trying to figure it out when I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 5

Moored

Captain Sam

Four hours of sleep is all I can get. Ever. This whole thing has taken a turn for Shitsville. I’ve never let an owner pressure me into doing something unsafe before. I told Rocky—Winston J. Rockwell, Rocky to everyone who knows him—I’d do my best, but if I at any point thoughtRock Candy—the fucking name of the yacht—wasn’t ready for the water, I’d keep her docked.

Then she, or rather the Candy ofRock Candy, wanted to go shopping before they departed. Changing the port.

It didn’t help that the shipyard was running behind. But so far,Rock Candyhas handled every test we’ve run her through. I don’t have any reason to think she’s not ready. It’s just more of a feeling. But I’ve gone over the specs and all the data that the computers send out from our little scoot over here. They’re all fine. Perfect, in fact. But I don’t like being rushed. Never have.

I’ve plotted out the first week of the trip with Anders, my first officer. Rocky likes deep-water fishing, but we’re keeping these first few weeks near a shoreline and harbor-hopping. He’sbeen waiting to take possession of theRock Candyfor almost three years. And the future Mrs. Rockwell has been pressuring for it to be ready faster, since his old yacht theMermaid’s Talewas outfitted by the last Mrs. Rockwell. Last season when we were in the Mediterranean, she complained nonstop about how outdated theMermaid’s Talewas. It drove the crew batshit. It’s the main reason my former chief stew didn’t return for this season. I don’t blame her. She’s working on a smaller ship with fewer staff under her now, but I bet she’s ten times happier there.

Last night I ended up holding the microwave up as Calvin finished installing it. I have been going ever since. It was an amazing sunrise, though.

I pick up my empty coffee cup and stare at it. I don’t remember drinking it. Right, normally I train the stews to bring me a fresh cup of coffee every couple of hours. But I’m not going to do that this season. Haley and her team are going to have enough to keep them busy. They don’t need to serve me.

No one has unpacked the coffee machine in the butler’s next to the chef’s galley, so I jog down the stairs, but the grip strip on one of the stairs catches my attention. It’s peeling back. I set my mug down and muck with the step. As captain, I have to do everything. Especially on a new boat.

“Okay, who do you think is the hottest?” Shayla’s voice carries up the stairwell.

“I’m here to work, not hook up,” Haley responds.

“Right, sure, me too. But the two are not mutually independent of each other.” Shay laughs. “Come on, Haley. Who should I keep my hands off so I don’t piss off my boss?”

“I don’t know. For me, it’s not only about looks. I have to like the guy’s personality to think he’s hot.”

Shayla drones, “Boring. Seriously, there are some hot guys on board.”

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