The Ruthless Gentleman

“I really hope this tip is decent. Ten percent at least. I know we didn’t have a whole lot to do, but eight weeks is a long time to have a shitty tip.” August’s words came in and out of focus for me. I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically—every kind of tired.

We made our way through the narrow corridor to the galley, and I slid into the banquette, the last to sit for the all-crew meeting. Now that Hayden’s charter had finished, the energy on board had ratcheted up and everyone’s voice was a little louder, their smiles a little wider. On the other hand, I felt as if I was coming out of a fog. I knew the people around me, but still felt as if there was a wall between us, that we were in different worlds.

“Beers?” Neill asked, opening the fridge. Charter was officially over if we were drinking.

“Yeah, I’ll take one,” I said. Alcohol couldn’t make me feel worse.

“Are you sure you should?” Skylar asked. “Is your stomach better?”

I hadn’t been there to see Hayden off the boat. It was the first time I’d ever not said goodbye to a departing guest, but I just couldn’t bear it. My professional mask had crumbled, and I wasn’t sure I would have been able to hold it together. I was angry that he thought I’d betrayed him, but ashamed by the fact I’d taken the phone and card, that I hadn’t told him and possibly avoided everything that had come after. My heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again, but my head told me things ending this way would probably be easier—there were no what-ifs or what-could-have-beens.

Since our first kiss, I’d tried hard not to think about what would happen when Hayden left the yacht. Although he’d told me he wanted things to continue between us after he left, I knew the logistics, as he’d put it, were difficult. He was based in London with commitments and a business to run, and my job made a long-distance relationship almost impossible. Any time I had off I spent in Sacramento. As much as I might wish it were otherwise, the likelihood of Hayden and I existing outside this yacht was almost none, even before he’d accused me of being a corporate spy.

But now none of that was even a fantasy. He thought I’d betrayed him and through his assumptions and accusations, I knew he’d betrayed me.

I’d risked my career for him. I’d put my brother’s care at risk for him. And yet he’d turned on me in an instant. He’d made up his mind about those photographs before he’d even asked me about them, and then assumed I was lying.

Captain Moss entered the kitchen and all eyes gravitated toward the ten brown envelopes he held in his hands. I should care more than I did. The tips I earned this season were all allocated to my brother’s health insurance premiums. I knew that whatever was in that envelope, it wouldn’t be enough to cover the additional expenses.

“No real issues on this trip,” Captain Moss said as he sat down. “But we’ve not been tested. This was a very easy charter for everyone apart from Avery. You feeling better?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah. It must have been something I ate,” I said, flashing my best fake grin at Neill. “I threw up, but feel fine now.”

“Cheeky,” Neill said.

“You worked hard,” Captain Moss said, lifting his chin in my direction.

Guilt unfurled in my stomach. If he only knew what had been going on between Hayden and me. I’d betrayed too many people for someone who wasn’t worth it.

“You’re a good girl, Avery.” From anyone else, a statement like that might have been condescending, but at that moment it was exactly what I needed to hear. I wanted to be a good person. I needed to be a good girl, because if I wasn’t, why hadn’t I just taken the money and helped my family?

“You should have plenty of energy for our next guests who arrive next week.” He dealt out the envelopes to each of the nine crew members. “We want to keep the bar high. We got a fifteen percent tip. Anything less for this next one will be a disappointment.”

The crew gasped as they peered into their bulging envelopes. It was at the top end of what tips normally were, and because charters were usually shorter, none of us were used to having so much money handed to us at once.

“No room for complacency,” Moss continued. “Go have fun tonight, but tomorrow I want every one of you up on deck at ten sharp. We’ve got to get this boat looking like it’s brand new. No excuses.” Captain Moss stood and headed back to the wheelhouse, leaving the rest of the crew to make plans for the evening. Why plans were necessary, I wasn’t sure. We always did the same thing—drink as much as possible, dance and find someone to make out with.