Bad Boy And Me

Chapter 3: A time on the Yacht 

"You made it."

The guy's voice was close as Tori stepped out of the car, the dock lights cutting the dark into short bright lines.

Jules' friend walked ahead, carrying a small bag and moving like he belonged. He led her down the pier, past rows of boats with music coming from them.

She kept her handbag close. The yacht tied at the end of the pier looked bigger than she had imagined from the photos on Jules' profile. White and glossy, with polished rails and a name stenciled on the stern. Someone had tied a rope with a neat knot, the sort you saw in movies. Men in dark shirts stood near the gangway, watching without much expression.

"Be careful stepping up," one of them said without smile.

Tori felt the knot in her stomach again. She had always hated water. It wasn't just fear, it sat there at the bottom of her, tight and cold. She'd never learned to swim properly. The lake from when she was little came back in flashes and the memory tightened her throat now.

She forced one foot onto the gangway and then the other. The wood shifted under her shoes. The yacht tilted a little. The motion almost made her drop her handbag. Somebody laughed from a yacht close by and the sound annoyed her.

She looked up and saw another yacht moving fast through the water, loud with people. She could see heads bent close together, hands on shoulders, hair wet with spray. A small group gathered around a low table with a mirrored tray. Someone leaned, and white lines were there. She watched one man bend and snort Cocaine, her stomach turned.

On the far side a third yacht had its deck full and bright. There was a woman everyone would recognize, she was in magazines, she smiled at red carpets and she lay across the deck.

A man who was not her husband was on top of her, both of them open to the night and nobody seemed to care about shame as the man raised her legs to place on his shoulder, fucked her harder and she moaned loudly. Tori's mouth went dry and she couldn't look away.

The friend led her up the short steps and onto the yacht. The wood on the deck felt solid and waxed under her shoes. A steward in a neat shirt took her handbag and nodded. The cabin smelled of lemon oil and expensive stuff. Narrow hallways led down into a living space with leather couches and low tables. Glassware was lined up behind a small bar.

"Jules said to give this to you," the friend said, handing her a small card. "He'll be back in a bit."

She opened it carefully. It said welcome and had a phone number. She slid it into her pocket and looked around. Pieces of a life here were obvious, framed photos, a sculptural bowl, a neat stack of magazines. Everything had been placed so it read like a curated set.

The friend shut the cabin door behind him and walked back down the gangway. The sound of his steps faded.

She stood there a second. Then a voice said, "Hey."

He was in the doorway, like he'd been waiting a little while. Jules was taller and more handsome than his pictures made him look. He had a cute beard and a jacket that fit the yacht. He smiled, casual and easy, and walked over.

"Hi," she said. It came out smaller than she wanted.

He hugged her quickly, that polite, testing kind of hug, and she felt some of the tension ease. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Fine." She wasn't. But she didn't explain the call from her father's hospital bed or that he told her to leave Washington and never come back. She didn't want to tell him that.

"Sit. I'll get us something," Jules said. He moved to the bar and poured a drink from a bottle. The yacht rocked gently. Light from other boats smeared across the windows, it sounded like a distant party.

He handed her a glass of Whiskey. "You want something stronger?" he asked.

"I want molly," she said. Saying it sounded odd and she was shocked she said that.

She kept four years in school watching her friends do molly and other drugs but never did she get tempted to try. But tonight she wanted the edge taken down, wanted a quiet she didn't have at the moment.

Jules didn't judge. "Alright. I can get that."

He left out the small door to the deck and the night air hit him. Tori watched the door close and felt the cabin grow bigger and emptier without him.

She walked through the cabin. Everything felt like a set. A framed photograph of a sunset. A travel book. A neat tray of glassware. She reached a small rail looking out to the bow and leaned on it.

Water moved below in small waves that made lights smear like paint. People on the other boats were closer now, their voices high. Someone on the loud yacht shouted and others laughed. A young man leaned too far over his rail and someone grabbed him by the shirt.

She thought about how she couldn't tell anyone where she was. Her father had said leave and not use the name.

She looked at the water and the old fear pushed in. She pictured hands dragging her out and the cold closing her throat. She tried to breathe slow and not let the image stay.

Jules came back carrying a small envelope and a cup. He sat down opposite her like nothing had changed. His fingers were steady when he set them down. He offered the cup. "You sure?" he asked softly.

She nodded then swallowed the pill. The world softened a little around the edges. Jules asked about her self, where she grew up, how long she'd been in the city. She gave short wrong answers. He listened without prying too deep.

Outside, the other boats moved and laughed and did things that looked reckless. The bright yacht with the white lines had drawn in closer and its people were louder now. The celebrity's blanket was gone and the couple on the deck were performing free porn for anyone who wanted to watch. Tori felt like she was watching something she hadn't asked to be part of.

Jules was easy to look at, he kept smiling and there was a calm to him she wanted to trust for one night.

He stood after a while. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," he said, touching her shoulder for a second. The touch was light but it had a possessive edge. He went out the door to the deck and his footsteps moved away.

She stayed where she was and tried to keep her breathing even. The pills weren't doing what she wanted them to do, didn't her friends say they were happy pills? How come she wasn't happy?

The thought that someone could shove her over the side pinged her brain. She measured the distance from the deck to the water in a way she shouldn't have. It felt possible.

She moved toward the bow again. The deck was cooler now and the wind pulled her hair back. She closed her eyes and mouthed a small prayer, it steadied her a little.

The lights went off.

There were no sound from other boats as well, in fact the we're gone. Tori's breath caught.

"Jules?" She called softly.

For a second there was no answer. Then the yacht took a deep thud, a sound that ran through the floor and made pictures on the wall wobble. Glass chimed somewhere as a cup moved on a table. The boat tilted in a way that made her stomach drop and then settle. Water slapped the hull loud, loud enough that it felt like a beating.

Her fingers found the metal rail and she held on as the dark closed around everything.