The Lion's Den(21)

He does personify power. I’ll give him that. And I guess to certain women, money and power are more attractive than a taut jawline and shared cultural references. But John is older than Summer’s dad, or Three––or any of her stepdads, for that matter. How do you get around that? I mean, five, ten, fifteen years’ difference, no big deal. Even twenty, especially as people get older. But thirty-six years? Maybe it’s true love, but let’s face it: it’s an arrangement you only ever see between very rich men and very beautiful women.

Shut up, Belle. She’s clearly made her choice. Everybody has different needs, and God only knows what kind of complexes having Rhonda as a mother and a string of crappy stepdads has given Summer.

Anyway, regardless of our divergent taste in men, my issues with Summer go way beyond her relationship with John. If only it were that simple.

Julie picks up a remote control and hits a button. Blackout shades silently lower over the three walls of windows, obstructing the gorgeous views of the water, darkening the room until it’s almost pitch black. “If you want to watch a movie during day,” she says.

“Or you have a hangover,” Brittani pipes up.

Julie raises the shades. “Luc teach you the remote later.” She descends two steps into the circular sunken dining room with curved walls of glass that slide open at the touch of another button, bringing the indoors outdoors. “All the doors on the back of the boat open, so you have comfort of the inside with the beauty of the outside.”

A large deck with built-in lounge areas extends beyond the dining table into the sun. Julie hits another button and a sunshade stretches out over the deck. “If you have too much sun.”

She heads up a stairway that curves around the outside of the boat, and we all follow. Amythest grips my arm, looking down at the sea below us as we ascend. “You okay?” I ask.

She nods. “I just—all this water kinda freaks me out,” she admits.

“You’re safe.” I pat her hand. “See all these rails? They’re here to keep you on board.”

She laughs nervously but doesn’t release my arm.

A blast of bright sun and a gust of warm, salty air greets us as we file onto the top of the boat, squinting at the miles of blue around us. “This is the sundeck,” Julie says. “Hot tub.” She gestures to a big round hot tub at one end of the deck and then to a deck-wide built-in circular padded lounge area. “And for tanning. Also refrigerator with drinks and snacks.” She opens a small refrigerator built into the wall of the bar.

“This’ll do,” Wendy deadpans.

“Now I show you to your rooms,” says Julie.

We thread our way down the outdoor staircase, through the upper deck, and down the spiral staircase, past the main deck, where Summer departs for her room, to the lower deck. It’s considerably darker and smaller down here, but still very well appointed, with a thick cream shag rug that makes it feel like a cradle. There are two doors on each side of the short hallway and a door at the end marked CREW.

Julie consults a clipboard as she opens the first door to the right. “Wendy and Claire.”

The room is just big enough to accommodate two twin beds with a table between them, a small closet, and a door to a minuscule bathroom. A small round window looks out over the sea. Wendy and Claire spill into the room. “Dibs on first shower,” Wendy says.

“Drinks on the upper deck at seven,” Julie says, closing their door behind them, then opening the door to an identical room across the hallway. “Brittani and Rhonda.”

Brittani bounds into the room, followed by her mother. “See you at seven,” Julie reminds them.

Julie opens the door on the same side of the hallway as Brittani and Rhonda’s room. “Isabelle and Amy…thest,” she says, butchering the pronunciation of Amythest’s name.

“It’s Amythest, like the stone,” Amythest corrects her. “Who’s in that room?” She indicates the room across the hall from ours.

Julie references her notebook. “Bernard and Vinny.”

Foxes in the henhouse.

“See you at seven.” Julie shuts us in our room.

Amythest opens the door. “Wait.” Julie turns, her eyebrow arched. “What’s the Wi-Fi?”

“No guest Wi-Fi. If you wish use computer, you find two on upper deck.”

Oh wow. No Wi-Fi. My brain takes a second to adjust to the news. “No Wi-Fi?” Amythest gasps, looking like she’s just been slapped. She waves her purple bejeweled phone. “But we don’t have any service out here. How are we supposed to, like, do anything?”

“You have service in port. Or use the computer.”

Damn. Okay. Though as controlling as John is, I can’t say I’m all that shocked. I nod our thanks and close the door firmly as Julie heads up the stairs.

“Weird,” Amythest says. “How am I supposed to brag on social media about the awesome time I’m having if I can’t post anything?”

She’s looking to me to be as upset as she is, but I shrug. “Think of it as a nice break from constant connection. Plus, you can use your phone in port.”

She plops down on the bed under the small round window. “Can I have this one?”

“Sure.”

I open the closet to find our dresses hanging, her black ones on the right, my colorful ones on the left, our shoes displayed on the shelf between. Hmmm…Nice not to have to unpack, but I can’t help feeling a little violated. Are the superrich so accustomed to everything being done for them that someone going through their belongings is routine, or was this John’s way of checking our bags? Good thing I didn’t bring my vibrator.