Shipped(57)
“That’s what you said before.” The words are so quiet I’m sure I misheard her. She turns to walk away.
“Hey, where are you going?”
Glancing at her phone, she stuffs it into the back pocket of her shorts. “Back to the cabin. We only have twenty minutes before the Zodiacs are going to shore, and I have to get ready.”
I push my chair back, intending to follow her, when my phone pings with a new email. It’s from James. I tap it open with a grimace.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Update
Where are you with your digital proposal? Send me an update on your ideas asap.
James P. Wilcox
Chief Marketing Officer
Seaquest Adventures | www.seaquestadventures.com
“Damn it,” I hiss. My thumbs hover over the screen.
I have ideas, sure. Lots of mediocre ideas. But nothing exceptional has coalesced yet. The answer is like fog—hanging resolutely on the horizon, but when I try to snatch it, it slips through my fingers.
Meanwhile, Graeme’s digital storytelling efforts are racking up likes and, according to Christina, extra bookings. The passengers on board love him; Donna is practically his new best friend. I saw them sitting together in the lounge last night, and she laughed—laughed!—at something he said.
If we were on a track, he’d be so far ahead he’d be lapping me by now.
I click off my phone and toss it onto the table. If James gets cranky that I don’t respond right away, I can blame it on the spotty Wi-Fi.
One thing’s for sure: I have to figure out what I’m pitching for this proposal. Today. And it needs to be stratosphere-level amazing.
* * *
When we disembark at Puerto Ayora half an hour later, it’s a shock to the system after spending so many days surrounded by nature. People are talking and shouting in Spanish, cars chug down the oceanfront road, and hungry gulls make a beautiful cacophony.
I step off the Zodiac and my hiking shoes thud against the pier. It’s our first dry landing since the day we embarked the ship. I wiggle my toes in my cotton socks, relishing not having wet sand stuck between them.
Graeme has already disembarked; he’s meandered several yards down the boardwalk and is taking another selfie video. His crisp white T-shirt contrasts with his tan, and his calf muscles flex as he walks.
I grind my teeth in equal parts frustration and desire.
“Giant tortoises today, huh?” Walsh asks, slipping her phone out of her pocket and checking the screen.
I tear my eyes away from Graeme. “Yep. Wild tortoise spotting in the highlands, then a visit to the breeding center in the afternoon. But remember, I’m going to be gone for a bit after lunch. I reached out a couple of weeks ago to our liaison in the region, a woman who lives in Puerto Ayora. We have a meeting scheduled.”
“Yeah, yeah, no problem.” She waves me off. “Do you think there’s Wi-Fi in town?” She raises her phone in the air and takes a few steps. “Never mind. I found an open network.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not still talking to that Bad News Bears person, are you?”
She gives me her none of your business face.
My phone dings insistently in my pocket and I automatically check the notifications.
Christina
GUYS, you will not believe what happened
Tory
What??
Christina
Rick sent me a bottle of lotion
I wrinkle my nose.
Who’s Rick?
Christina
The guy I went on a date with last week. The programmer. He mailed me a bottle of LOTION. To my apartment.
WTF
What kind of lotion?
Christina
Super nice actually. High end from Saks. But LOTION. TO MY APARTMENT. HALP.
Tory
How does he know where you live?
Christina
He picked me up for our date
Tory
CHRISTINA KIM what were you thinking?!
You know he could come back and murder you, right? Rookie mistake.
I find a Silence of the Lambs “it rubs the lotion on its skin” GIF and send it to them.
Christina
Nope. Didn’t need that. Way too creeped out already
Tory
Send it back and block him
And maybe get a Ring camera for your door because yikes
“Attention, everyone!” Gustavo’s voice soars over the crowd and I look up. He’s perched on a low railing along the boardwalk, arm raised. “Our coach bus is here. I hope you are ready to meet some of our famous giant tortoises.” The crowd claps and cheers as people begin shuffling toward the bus.
“Hey, do you—” I begin before realizing that Walsh isn’t by my side anymore.
I crane my neck and spot her scurrying over to board the bus. She ditched me! Pursing my lips, I weave through the other passengers to catch up with her.
When I board the bus, I discover she’s sitting with one of the naturalists. They’re already deep in conversation, but she still manages to shoot me a smug look. I counter it with a don’t-think-you’ve-avoided-talking-about-Bad-News-Bears glare. Bumping her shoulder as I pass, I find an empty row in the back and shuffle into a blue-and-orange window seat.