I had let Viv think that I was a savvy marketing genius with a friendly, approachable personality. But @ChaptersWithCharlie isn’t me. Viv should know better than anyone that who you are online is rarely who you are in real life.
Viv hired @ChaptersWithCharlie. Not Charlie Engels, the twenty-four-year-old unpublished author who was pressured to keep the account she was apathetic about because her best friend told her it would eventually pay off. And I suppose it did—for Sage. Because while I was posting, she was writing.
I want nothing more than to delete my account and never look back. That can’t happen now. @ChaptersWithCharlie is the onlyreason I got this job. Even though opening the app gives me stomach cramps, knowing I’ll see someone raving aboutA Song of Scales and Salton my feed, I’ll have to fight through it.
I need the money. Bad. After all, I’m not the one who got a six-figure book deal.
Chapter 3
I don’t belong here.
It’s the first thought that pops into my head as Captain Zap, who hasn’t said a word the entire ride, black beard and sunglasses hiding his face, steers us clear of the dock and points the boat at the beautiful monstrosity looming out of the surf ahead of us.
I had absently tapped through the social media accounts for the yacht after my first email exchange with Viv, but I hadn’t bothered to look closely or carefully. I didn’t think I’d actually be offered the job. Now I wish I had prepared better. My hanging jaw and bulging eyes are probably not a cute look. But in my defense, seeingEmpressonline is very different from experiencing it up close.
The boat is “anchored” sideways, the bow pointing toward the island, its stern gesturing to open ocean. The exterior of the boat looks almost exactly like a million-dollar yacht, except that insteadof floating on the greenish blue water, the vessel perches upon four concrete pillars that leverage it a couple feet above the gently pulsing water.
There are two huge decks, one at the front and one at the back. There’s an open deck on the roof too, with solar paneling covering what Viv assures me is a “very classy” bar area.
We pull up to the side ofEmpress, its size and luxury becoming clearer the closer we get. Captain Zap aligns the motorboat parallel to a little shelf carved into the side ofEmpressthat acts as a boarding port. Viv tells me there is a swim platform at the aft as well, but it’s not usable whenEmpressis hovering right over the waves like this, supported by its “legs.”
“So, it’s like a houseboat,” I say as Captain Zap slides a black oblong fender between our boat and the pristine yacht, making sure we don’t scrape against the larger vessel’s hull. “It doesn’t move, right?”
“That’s right,” Viv replies, glancing at Captain Zap, who nods at her, confirming she can exit. Viv steps off on to the boarding platform, which sticks out a few feet from the hull, before turning back to me. “I mean, itcanmove, but slowly. And it’s a whole process to ‘take it down.’” She wiggles her fingers together to create quotation marks. “Like yes,Empresscan also function as an actual yacht if Trey decides to move it. But he’s happy to keep it at Ligia for now. It’s the home base for Royal Yachts at the moment. This is the newest model, the one we’re advertising on socials. When it’s docked, its legs come down, and it becomes the most luxurious houseboat in the whole world.”
The motorboat rocks a little as I step off and follow Viv. My duffel bag is so unwieldy that for a second, I think I’m going to tip over the side and ping-pong against the hull, slipping into the ocean, but a firm hand at my elbow stabilizes me as Captain Zap silently guides me across the gap to join Viv.
My first step onEmpressis wobbly, but it’s not the yacht’s fault; I’m unbalanced, uncoordinated, even at the best of times. And there’s no floating or bobbing here, unlike on Captain Zap’s boat.Empressis firm. Sturdy. My shoulders relax a fraction of an inch, and my bag feels a few pounds lighter.
“Thanks for the last-minute lift, Captain Zap!” Viv calls. The two of us turn to watch as the man waves, wordlessly, and frees his boat, steering it back to the dock. “He’s so weird,” Viv says as soon as he’s out of earshot. “Never talks to us. He’s the older brother of our usual captain, Vlad. Vlad is so hot.” She sticks her tongue out and fans herself, giggling.
“Where’s he going now?” I ask, watching the boat skim over the waves.
“Oh, who knows,” Viv says dismissively. “Back to shore, I suppose. But don’t worry.Empresshas a tender, so we can get to and from Ligia if we need to. Now, come on, I can’t wait to show you around!”
We’re standing on a platform on the side of the yacht, the island visible. There’s a small set of stairs before us that leads to the main deck. Viv starts up them, but I turn to watch as Captain Zap’s boatgets smaller and smaller as it heads back to the mainland, which isn’t even visible from here.
For a moment, dread passes over my heart. Ligia Island looks farther away now that our transportation is gone. The water is deeper, darker than it was a few minutes ago. And suddenly I’m very aware of the fact that I am hundreds of miles from home, directly across from a deserted island, and pretty much stuck in the middle of the ocean.
It’s fine. You can do this, I tell myself.
As I glance at the water, civilization an invisible smudge on the horizon, I catch sight of something pale under the surface, undulating along with the waves. The shape billows, then tightens into the familiar curve of a human face. Sunlight refracts on the water, creating glinting eyes, and the shadowy depth of the seafloor heaves up, morphing into blue lips that bubble soundless words toward the surface.
The face floats in a circle, spinning to look up at me.
Breath catches in my throat and I step back, knees trembling. I blink rapidly, involuntarily, and when my vision clears, the face is gone. The water rocks beneath me, gentle and innocuous.
You’re being silly. There’s nothing there. Relax.
“You coming?” Viv asks. “Are you good? You’re not getting seasick, are you? We’re not even rocking! One of the best parts ofEmpress, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, still staring at the water. It laps merrilybeneath us. No face. Nothing but blue and the hint of sand below. “I’m coming.”
I was thrown off by seeing that stupid book in the coffee shop, I think as I follow Viv up the steps to the main deck. Paranoia probably isn’t on brand for these people. I need to chill.
I’ve been struggling since Sage’s death. I’ve avoided water—too painful, for too many reasons. Now I’ll be livingonthe water. Maybe it’s only natural that my brain saw something that wasn’t there in the surf.
“This is the main deck,” Viv says, calling me back to the multimillion-dollar yacht I’m now living on.
