“A man with a knife is your best bet on the high seas. He can slice open coconuts, scale a fish, fend off aggressive sea gulls and carve your initials on a tree.”
“Thanks, but I have a pocketknife.”
Alex laughed. “But can a pocketknife hook you up with the Captain?” He winked and made a move, indicating that I should follow. He seemed to sense my hesitation because he paused and looked to me for confirmation. “You said you were waiting to see the Captain?”
“Yes, but not like this.”
“Who cares?” He gave a wide-shouldered shrug. “You’re a guest on a luxury yacht. It’s not your job to impress the Captain or the staff. It’s our job to cater to you.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of it like that. Probably because I wasn’t paying big money for the privilege of being on the boat. But mostly because I was used to walking on eggshells around everyone. I was also tired enough to not care at this point. Not about Nikos. Or the Captain. Or poor Hannah, who was probably still looking for me. It had been go, go, go since I stepped off the plane. The sooner I got my accommodations figured out, the better.
“Please. Lead the way,” I said.
We circumvented the elevator and took the stairs to the Bridge deck. Plush chairs surrounded a jacuzzi. As we passed an outdoor dining area, my eyes swept over a lookout house with stunning 360-degree views. Flower arrangements and bowls filled with fruits and nuts punctuated the entire deck.
“Captain Bailey, one of the passengers is here to see you.” Alex ushered me into the wheelhouse. It was an impressive command center, decked out with a sleek dashboard, beeping screens, and gadgets galore—the kind of place you’d want to sneak into, just so you could slide into one of the leather chairs and issue commands about traveling at warp speed.
Captain Bailey turned out to be a sandy-haired Canadian in her late fifties—far from the pipe-smoking, salty mariner I was expecting. My stereotypes were being blown to smithereens—left, right, and center.
Alex excused himself once he made introductions, impressing me with the correct pronunciation of my name. Apparently, he listened closely.
“So?” Captain Bailey took off her sunglasses and tucked them in her shirt pocket. They had left permanent grooves on the sides of her nose. If she had any thoughts about my bedraggled state, she kept them to herself. Luckily, my clothes had dried off, so I wasn’t sitting in a puddle of humiliation. “What can I do for you, Moti?”
“I’m out of a room.” I explained the situation as delicately as I could. “Hannah said there are no extra beds, so I’m hoping we can figure something out.”
“Hmmm.” Captain Bailey drummed her fingers. She had four gold stripes on her epaulets, indicating some kind of rank, or maybe how many fingers she could drum with. She pulled out a logbook and ran her finger down a page. “We’re missing a crew member. He had a family emergency. It leaves us short-handed, but we have a spare bunk in the crew quarters. Until the situation between your uncle and aunt gets resolved, I’ll sleep there. You can have the Captain’s suite.” She smiled and shut the ledger.
“That’s very nice of you, but I wouldn’t dream of taking your cabin. I’ll bunk in the crew quarters.”
“I can’t assign a passenger to a crew cabin. It’s nothing like the stateroom you checked into. Crew accommodations are shared, space is restricted and if you’re prone to seasickness, that’s where you’ll feel it the most—on the lowest deck. Even if you’re okay with that, I have to run it by the Principal.”
“The Principal?”
“Mr. Papadakis. The groom’s father. He’s the one who chartered the yacht. It’s my responsibility to keep him updated on any changes.”
“I was hoping we could keep this between us.”IfPrincipal Papadakis finds out about the feud, Isabelle will have my head. Then I’ll be headlessandroom-less. “No point in involving everyone in needless drama. Besides, Rachel Auntie and Joseph Uncle could be talking by dinner. They never stay mad at each other for too long.”
“You have a point.” But Captain Bailey did not look happy about it. “I still think you should take my room. You’ll be sharing the crew cabin with a member of the opposite sex.”
“How about I try it out for a night? I probably wouldn’t be seeing much of my roommate anyway. I’ll just be using it to shower and sleep. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take you up on the Captain’s suite.”
For a moment, it seemed like she wasn’t going to budge. Then her shoulders relaxed, and she gave me a nod. “Fine. One night. I’ll keep it between us, but I want a status report in the morning.”
Aye, Aye, Captain.
I signed some consent forms and handed them back with a bright “Thank you!!” (with two exclamation marks, because that’s how relieved I was to have the matter resolved).
Captain Bailey escorted me to the crew quarters and showed me to my assigned cabin. In stark contrast to the grandeur of the upper decks, the lower level was a maze of paper-thin walls and fluorescent lighting.
“I’ll have someone transfer your bag,” Captain Bailey said. “You’ll be bunking with Chef Alexandros. I believe you’ve already met.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again.Chef Alexandros. Alex?
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes, everything’s fine.”
It was only after Captain Bailey left that I walked into the tiny en suite, locked the door, and banged my head against it.
