Shipped(42)

One thing is clear though. Based on his experience, Graeme’s definitely qualified to be a digital marketing director—possibly even more qualified than me. I’ve been with Seaquest longer and I have over a year of graduate-level business classes under my belt, but I don’t have the digital experience he does.

Dread fills the pit of my stomach. My proposal will need to blow Graeme’s out of the water if I want to stand a chance at landing this promotion. An advertising scheme for the Galápagos based on something we’ve already done in Hawaii isn’t going to cut it.

I need advice.

Stuffing my earbuds into my ears, I pull up Christina’s contact and tap FaceTime. I slide off the stool and push through the nearest door. It takes me to an outside deck. Wind lifts my hair and I clutch the rail for support.

She answers on the fifth ring. “Hey, girl! How’s the southern hemisphere?” she shouts. The image is grainy thanks to the satellite Wi-Fi, but I can see her cheeks are candy-apple red and she’s breathing hard.

“Hey, Christina! It’s good to see your face.”

She squints at me. “Where are you? Inside a tornado?”

“Outside on the ship.” I shuffle farther down the deck to stand under the ambient light flooding through the bridge’s long windows. Rock music pumps through my earbuds and I notice Christina is wearing a tank top. I nearly smack my forehead. “It’s Sunday. You’re at boot camp class, aren’t you?”

She waves me away. “No biggie. You’re calling from the Galápagos. I had to answer. I need all the latest gossip. Most important, why did you want to know about Graeme’s phone? Tell me everything!”

“Hey!” a male voice roars from somewhere on her end. “Is this social hour or is this boot camp?”

“Be there in a sec,” she calls over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes at me. “The trainer tonight is a little intense.”

“I won’t hold you up. Can I just ask your advice on something?”

“Of course.”

“What would you do if—” I’m about to lay out the whole business with Graeme, but the voice in the background bellows again, cutting me off.

“It’s push-up time, and you’re standing in the corner! Get moving!”

“Chill out, dude!” Christina roars back. “Jesus, I’m paying you to be here. Unbelievable.” She shakes her head. “What were you saying?”

I open my mouth to speak but hesitate. I’ll definitely need a long, in-person conversation with Christina to unpack everything happening on this cruise. Preferably over drinks. “Nothing, never mind. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Wait, how’s the proposal?”

I heft a sigh. “No bright ideas yet. Any suggestions for me?”

She nods thoughtfully. “I’d go back to basics. Think about what makes our cruise experience in the Galápagos special or different, then build an idea from there. You know Tory and I are standing by to help; just say the word.”

“Thanks, Christina. You’re the best.”

“I know.” She blows me an air kiss. “Talk soon. Geez, what are you standing around for? Are we doing push-ups or what?” she yells behind her before ending the call.

With a wobbly grin, I shuffle back inside. The three officers barely look up as I enter.

I resume my seat at the table and shove my feelings about Graeme aside. They’re far too complicated. I can examine them later. Pulling my notebook from my bag, I open a fresh page.

Go back to basics. I consider Christina’s words for several long minutes, then it hits me. Who knows the region better than the people who sail the ships?

“Excuse me, Captain?”

“?Sí?”

“You’ve been to the Galápagos before, right?”

He chuckles. “Of course. Many times. I’m from Quito and my wife’s family is from Santa Cruz.”

“Captain Garcia is one of the most experienced cruise ship captains in Ecuador,” adds one of the junior officers.

Perfect. “So, what do you love about the Galápagos?”

“Hmmm.” He flashes me a wide grin. “How long were you planning to spend on the bridge?”

Clicking open my pen against the table, I poise it over my blank page. “As long as it takes,” I say with a smile.





14




Six in the morning doesn’t look good on anyone—except Walsh. Even fresh off the heels of a twenty-four-hour case of food poisoning, she still sparkles like a shooting star in the dim, predawn light. The color has returned to her cheeks and all traces of the milkshake debacle have vanished.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Walsh croons, bouncing on her toes.

I pull my baseball cap lower down my forehead to hide the purple smudges under my eyes. I stayed up way too late chatting with Captain Garcia and the other officers.

Sinking onto a low, flat rock, I slip off my sandals and bang them together. Our Zodiac landing this morning on Floreana Island was a wet one, and damp olivine sand clings to my toes. I rub one foot on top of the other, knocking off as much sand as possible before pulling my shoes back on and tightening the waterproof straps. Farther down the shore, a handful of sea lions tumble and play in the surf. Walsh claps in delight as she watches them.