“Enough standing around,” Harry says. “Let me give you the tour!”
“I’ll meet you in a few,” Jules gives me a squeeze before dropping my arm. “I’ve had to pee for like, two hours.”
“Jules,” I whisper-hiss. “Don’t you dare?—”
But she’s already sidling back down the stairs. I should have known that in her book, this whole week is going to be one big bonding opportunity between me and her shiny new family.
I put on my best “not monstrously uncomfortable” face and turn back towards Harry.
“After you!”
He guides me up the staircase to the second deck, where a gorgeous woman with honey skin and a waist-length, blackbraid is waiting for me with a sherbet-colored cocktail and fresh white lei. She drapes it over my shoulders and hands me the drink.
“Thank you?—“
“Gia!” she finishes for me. Her accent sounds Spanish. Or Portuguese?
“Nice to meet you, Gia.”
“I’ve been dying to meet you!” Gia tells me. “Jules says you’re a very accomplished artist.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. I spent a brief year at art school before I stopped kidding myself and switched over to academia, but I’m fairly certain the only person who still thinks I have any talent is my little sister.
“Definitelynotaccomplished,” I tell her.
“And this is Allie.” She points towards the tiny blonde girl beside her who uses a pair of gold tongs to hand me a towel from a bowl of ice.
“Oh, let me put my bag down,” I say, gesturing to my purse. Gia and Allie look shocked.
“We’ll take it, Miss Olsen,” Allie says, whisking the bag from my shoulder. Maybe she doesn’t want my ancient handbag soiling the surface of the grand table that stands beside us.
“Thank you, but you don’t have to?—“
Before I can finish, Harry grabs my shoulders and pivots me to the rest of the waiting crew.
Three men and a woman stand in a uniformed line against the opposite railing, their pleasant expressions cemented across their faces like identical wax dolls. I swallow. I feel like I’m in one of those Hallmark movies where the princess-nee-waitress meets her new palace staff. Except this time,I’mthe one being sized-up.
“Stella,” Harry tells me, “You’ve already met Jim, our First Mate. This is Remi, Russ, and Yara. Our deckhand, chef, and engineer.”
I smile, trying to commit the names to memory. Remi, Russ, Yara. Renni, Ross, Yama… how many people does it take to keep this thing afloat? I swallow the low-grade panic that’s building in my chest as Gia hands me a pair of green velvet slippers while staring down at the cheap plastic flip flops on my feet.
“Oh, I’m ok,” I say, trying to refuse the slippers. But Harry shakes his head.
“No outside shoes on the ship, I’m afraid,” Harry tells me. “But don’t worry—Jules told me your size!”
I fake an uneasy smile. If anything, the shock of this insanely luxurious boat only strengthens my resolve to stick to the plan: keep a low profile, do my best to fit in, and speak when spoken to. And looking at this ship, it’s a safe bet that I could find a corner to hide in and not be discovered the entire twelve days.
“Is the captain already on the bridge?” Harry asks.
“The bridge?” I ask, wondering what it could possibly connect to.
“It’s what we call the control room,” Harry explains. “Where most of the magic happens!”
“He is,” Jim answers, “We’re all set to go whenever you’re ready, sir.”
“Wonderful,” says Harry, who’s practically bouncing on his heels. In the brief time I’ve spent with him, I’ve discovered that his many virtues do not include patience. And fresh off a twelve-hour flight, he’s clearly chomping at the bit to get to sea.
“Stella,” he offers, “why don’t I give you the grand tour while Gia unpacks your bags.”
