Everything is fine. It was just your imagination.
When I come out of the bathroom, I’ve calmed down.
Fiona is hovering by the kitchen island with a fresh beer in hand. She stands with her head tilted toward the ceiling, air-conditioning breezing on her perfect face.
“Whoa, you look pale,” she notes as I approach her.
“Bathroom lights quit on me,” I reply, trying to smile. “Freaked me out.”
“Oh,” she laughs. “Sure. They do that sometimes.”
My pulse settles at her words.
See? Nothing to worry about. There was no face.
“Want one?” she asks, lifting her beer bottle. “I never got to finish my other one.”
“I’m good.” I shouldn’t pry, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I need a distraction. “What was that thing with Viv and the beer when we were downstairs?”
Fiona’s lips twist. “Oh, nothing. Viv worries about our health. She thinks beer is the least healthy of all booze. Even though I tell her that it’s all poison, so who cares whichtypeof poison I drink?”
“She’s one of those chicks who only drinks clear liquors, huh?”
Fiona relaxes as she giggles. “Oh, definitely. But she means well, she really does. I think I get sensitive ’cause I’m the only big girl onEmpress, so I assume she’s coming for my weight even though I know she’s not.”
I don’t know what to say to that, mostly because I’m not entirely sure Fiona is right—what if Vivwascoming for her weight? The way she had looked at the beer bottle was…pointed. But it’s not any of my business. And if I’m going to have this job, live on this yacht, I might as well try to make friends.
That part of the job is genuinely appealing. I’ve been so lonely since the whole thing happened with Sage. I think part of me hoped she’d come around. Do the right thing. Admit the truth and work hard to make it up to me so we could one day be friends again.
What a fucking joke.
Don’t,I warn myself.Don’t think about her. Don’t think about the book. Don’t think about the accident.
Thinking about Sage too much is probably why I’m seeing things. I need to keep myself occupied. Focus on this new job.
“I don’t understand how we’re…out here like this,” I say to Fiona, gesturing at the space around us and nodding to the ocean beyond the glass windows. “You’re not worried about those pillars snapping in half and plunging you into the sea?”
“Oh,” Fiona laughs. “Yeah, Viv loves marketingEmpress, but she’s not the greatest at explaining how it actually works. Those pillar things, they’re actually caissons that are filled with concrete andsunk into the ocean floor. They hold up the yacht frame, and there’s all kinds of fancy engineering technology that keeps us stable. Don’t ask me to explain that part, I flunked physics. ButEmpressis pretty eco-friendly; we use the solar panels for the majority of our electricity, and the anchoring system is noninvasive so if and whenEmpressgets moved, it won’t fuck up the ocean below.”
I wonder how much of that is true. I can’t see a structure as big and as opulent asEmpresshaving no negative effect on the ocean’s ecosystem, especially off a private island that has been, up until a year ago, untouched by people.
“And what about fresh water?”
“There’s like two thousand gallons of it belowdecks,” Fiona explains. “We have scheduled refills to keep it from getting low.”
I wander over to the window on the other side of the kitchen island and stare at the rolling green waves below us. “I’m glad it’s on struts. I’d be afraid of getting seasick.”
“Oh, totally. But you should see the water on a clearer day. It’s all silty and filled with seaweed today, but sometimes it’s so crystal clear you can see straight through to the bottom.”
I remember the face I thought I saw floating in the water earlier and shake the memory away. “Sounds pretty. How far down is it?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Charlie.”
I pull back slightly, reeling in the version of myself that isn’t the easygoing, flexible, social media Charlie. “Yeah, sorry, I’m curious. Nerd things, you know?”
Fiona smiles and waves me off. “Don’t apologize, I think it’s cute. I wish some of the other girls asked these questions before posting on @WeAreEmpress. If I see one more ‘That view though,’ caption I’m gonna lose it.”
I can’t help cracking a smile at that. I allow a note of sarcasm to creep into my voice. “I mean, the viewisnice.”
