Chapter 9
Ore
Day 2
Despite waking up halfway through the night with her cheek melded to the marble tiled floor, before dragging herself into bed, Ore felt quite fresh when her alarm bleated into her ear. She took a moment to just lie there and take stock. This was her moment, her scoop, and she had to be on top form.
She mentally ran through the list of people she needed to speak to, to make the profileNew York Heraldlevels of thorough. This was what she had been training for: no stone unturned. She also knew she’d have to be savvy about it. Ore was ruminating on the best order to do her interviews in when a sharp knock rattled her out of her scheming.
‘Hello?’ She rolled out of bed and pulled on the white towelling dressing gown that she’d left pooled at the end of her bed the night before. She always slept naked.
‘It’s Vicky. Chuck sent me to invite you to breakfast on the sun deck, served at 9 a.m.’ Vicky was all business, and before Ore had a chance to open the door and ask where exactly ‘the sun deck’ was, she heard footsteps retreating down the hall.
Ore checked her watch to find it was already half past eight. She needed to get a move on.
First, a quick shower, which was a shame because it was glorious; the mega rich did not suffer poor water pressure. Next Ore had to decide what to wear. She heaved open her suitcase and rummaged frantically, realising that her packing was chaotic. Why had she packed a gold bikini? When exactly had she thought she might need a full-length indigo kaftan? The pac-a-mac was nonsensical and the pink neon visor seemed like the decision of a madwoman.
At 8.52, she settled on white linen trousers and a slim-fitting dark brown waistcoat. She thought it was suitably ‘lady journalist’ attire. The fabric was just a shade darker than the bare arms it showed off. Ore was hoping that after two weeks in the sun she might match it exactly. She left her braids loose, and added dashes of gold: earrings, rings and a thin chain.
At 9.02, she realised she wouldn’t have time to re-lay her edges, and a slug of Vaseline was about all she could do for her face. Slightly flustered, she managed to find a second to admire herself in the mirror before grabbing her notepad and heading out into the maze of corridors.
Her plan was to wander around until she bumped into one of the numerous members of the crew on board. She went down two flights of stairs at the end of the hall and found herself in what she could only assume was a ballroom. Chuck did not seem like the type to dance, but she wasn’t sure what else this huge space with three crystal chandeliers and a raised stage in the corner could be for.
She stopped to consider her options and then felt stupid for heading downwards. It was the sun deck after all. As shetrotted back up the stairs, she came face to calf with that stiff white uniform. She looked up and grinned.
‘Captain Wilsons, we must stop running into each other like this.’
He looked a little flustered by her overfamiliar tone. Ore was enjoying herself.
‘Miss …’ he began. ‘I’m sorry I don’t know your full name.’
Ore cocked her head to the side, genuinely intrigued by this rather beautiful man who seemed at once completely in control of himself and yet … nervous?
‘Ballou-Adu.’ She was in the habit of not bothering with both her second names. She found that it often turned into a back and forth, at least with most white people. Despite her pronouncing it out loud first, they would repeat it back with mangled vowels, and then she would find herself repeating it again. And so it would go like that until they either got it right or she gave up.
‘Miss Ballou-Adu – it’s interesting. Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.’ Daniel’s pronunciation, despite his accent, was spot on. It made Ore feel surprisingly triumphant, like she had made a risky bet and it had paid off.
‘Well it’s half Haitian, half Nigerian.’ She shrugged. Daniel nodded contemplatively, and Ore felt the need to fill the silence ‘I’m actually looking for the sun deck.’
Daniel pointed upwards and Ore laughed. ‘Yes I figured that out, eventually. Any more precise directions than that? Chuck is waiting for me.’ She was quite late now.
‘Past the gym and then up the set of stairs on the starboard.’
‘Great thanks!’ Ore squeezed past him on the narrow stairway before fully absorbing what she’d heard. ‘Actuallysorry, I can’t remember what that last part means. I’m not the missing stewardess remember?’
She thought she saw a glint of embarrassment flash across his face but he quickly composed himself.
‘Sorry, it means the right side of the boat, if you’re looking forward towards the bow.’ He seemed genuinely apologetic.
‘Got it!’ She turned, and then, never one to miss an opportunity, she turned back. ‘Would you be up for having a chat after breakfast, just about, you know, life on board, your job and … Chuck?’ She knew he’d see right through her but she had to try.
He chuckled. ‘You mean an interview?’
She smiled, eyebrows raised hopefully.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s better if you talk to Mr Regas about things.’ His tone was deflatingly stern.
‘Fair enough – worth a shot eh?’ She winked at him. ‘I better run.’ He just nodded and she jogged off in search of her elusive breakfast.
