Play Along

“Okay, so there used to be a captain of the ship—”

“Who owns this ship?” I interrupt.

“Vikinos.”

I frown.

Angela shakes her head. “He’s a really bad dude. Mafia. He doesn’t come on here. In fact, I have never met him, only heard of him.” She looks around to see if anyone can hear us. “He is known for torturing his victims to death.”

My face drops and I suddenly feel sick.

“Apparently he makes billions in drugs every week. He is big… I mean huge.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Carry on. There used to be a captain.”

“Oh, yes. But there was constant bickering and he couldn’t control the crew, so about a year or so ago the captain got fired… or killed. We’re not quite sure.”

My eyes widen.

“He never came back and Mac came in his place.”

“What does Mac do here?”

“His role is called the enforcer, but he is also a marine engineer so he takes care of the operations.”

“Huh?”

“He enforces the rules and makes sure things run smoothly.”

“How did he get the role of enforcer? What did he do to get this job?”

Angela shrugs. “That’s what we would all like to know. He came from Vikinos’s camp itself.”

“Oh,” I whisper. “So he really is bad? Like bad bad.”

Her eyes widen. “Baby, everyone on this ship is fucking bad. How do you think they got this job? But I think Mac is hard-core… I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I do know all of the men are shit scared of him.”

Bloody hell, at this point he is the only person I’m not scared of. Hell, what a mess. I am now orgasming over a hit man or something. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

I have enough emotional baggage. Maybe I should knock this on the head before it even begins. Before what begins? What exactly am I about to do?

No. Stop it.

Live in the moment, remember?

Have fun while you can. This is just a bit of fun. It means nothing. Stop over analysing everything.

Over the next ten minutes, I watch as man after man comes in after work freshly showered and ready for their nightly dinner. They go to the bar and get a drink and then take a seat next to their friends. I watch the door in anticipation as Angela talks to another girl who has taken a seat next to us.

Where is he? What’s taking so long? My mind goes to Chelsea’s words that he had to be pulled off that Stucco dude because he wanted to kill him. Does that mean they were in a fist fight? Maybe he’s hurt. I begin to feel my anxiety rise and I glance back over to Stucco in the corner sitting with his back to the bar. Fuck, I hate that weasel, too. I need a drink.

“I’m going to the bar, do you guys want anything?” I ask the girls.

“Can you just get me a white wine?” Angela asks.

“Me too.” The girl sitting next to her smiles. What is her name again? Damn, I have to remember this stuff. I must seem like such a bitch not remembering anyone’s name.

I head to the bar and there is a bit of a line up, so I take my place at the back of the line.