Sex and Vanity(23)
“The queen has spoken! Let’s get on with it. Andiamo!” snapped Olivia. “Your Majesty, allow me to help you aboard.”
The Sultanah got into the first boat with one bodyguard, Mordecai, Olivia, and Charlotte, while Lucie, the Ortiz sisters, Auden, and the other bodyguard rode in the second boat. Because of the way the Goldfish was designed, there were no proper seats. Instead, there were upright patrol seats that resembled back braces for the passengers to lean against, while gripping on to handlebars in front of them for support. The Sultanah, who stood right behind the boatman, said to him, “I’ve seen these before at a military inspection parade. My army uses them for tactical missions. I hear they go very fast.”
“Yes, very fast,” the boatman replied, as he piloted slowly out of the marina.
“Let’s see how fast it can go! I have a need for speed!” the Sultanah gleefully declared.
“Okay. Hold on tight!” the boatman said as he revved up the engine and the Goldfish took off like a rocket.
“Jesus Mary!” Mordecai shrieked, almost falling off the back. He gripped on to his handlebar tightly, not quite believing how fast the boat was going. As soon as they were out on the open sea, the boat began bouncing on top of the waves so violently that it seemed like a roller coaster ride gone out of control. Mordecai held on for dear life as the boat zipped across the Bay of Naples at what seemed like warp speed.
“Slow down! Slow the fuck down!” Mordecai screamed, but between the wind and the roar of the engine, it was impossible for the boatman to hear him. His knuckles were white from gripping, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before he was flung out of the boat. Mordecai watched helplessly as the Sultanah kept getting jolted several inches into the air every time the Goldfish hit wave after wave. One big wave and she would be tossed like a rag doll into the Mediterranean. Why weren’t they given life jackets? Suddenly, the headlines that would surely go viral around the world flashed before his eyes:
SULTANAH OF PENANG DROWNS OFF THE
AMALFI COAST:
BARON VON EPHRUSSí TO BLAME.
CHAPTER NINE
Villa Lachowski
Positano, Italy
Lucie closed her eyes and savored the mist from the waves against her face as the boat sped along. She had a sudden, vivid flashback to the times her father took her sailing in his catboat. They would drive down to the little dock on a hidden inlet off Springy Banks Road and sail out of Three Mile Harbor into Gardiners Bay, and Lucie would sit at the bow, holding tight on to the leather strap nailed into the deck like he taught her to. Out on the bay, rogue waves would crash against the bow, splashing her all over, but she would laugh and laugh, just like her father did.
Her father was always happiest on the water, and he would bound barefoot along the edge of the wooden boat like the nimblest acrobat, expertly maneuvering the sail and the rudder, always in those scuffed chinos and his faded orange anorak. Lucie wondered whatever happened to that anorak. Was it still hanging in the closet in the mudroom at East Hampton? She would have to look for it when she was back. As they rounded the bay, the village of Positano came into view, rising into the cloudless blue sky like an apparition. Lucie stared up in awe at the gleaming white buildings hugging a vertiginous cliff like an enchanted wonderland straight out of a Tolkien novel. No wonder everyone called it the jewel of the Amalfi Coast.
Beyond Positano’s crescent beach, the Villa Lachowski commanded its own rocky promontory, and Mordecai’s boat was the first to arrive at the villa’s private dock. A cluster of men in topaz-blue polo shirts and crisp white shorts stood ready to assist the arriving guests, and the Sultanah was the first to climb out of the Goldfish, giggling like a schoolgirl. “That was amazing! I haven’t had this much fun since I went with my granddaughter to Burning Man!”
“I’m g-g-glad you enjoyed that, Your Ma-Majesty,” Mordecai stammered as he wobbled out of the boat, trying to steady himself on dry land.
“What a beautiful day for a boat ride! Did we lose the others?” the Sultanah wondered.
“I think the others took the scenic, arrive-alive route,” Charlotte remarked, looking rather green herself.
Soon, the second Goldfish could be seen approaching at a leisurely speed from around the cove, and its passengers alighted on the dock looking more relaxed and far less windblown than the early arrivals. Mordecai did a quick head count of his flock, genuinely relieved that the whippet-thin Ortiz sisters hadn’t been blown off-deck.
“Excellent, excellent, we’ve all made it here in one piece, more or less. Now, if everyone’s ready, we shall be received by Tom and Geraldine Murphy, the owners of this magnificent villa,” Mordecai said, as a tall gentleman dressed entirely in black came strolling down the dock toward them.
“That’s the estate manager,” Mordecai told everyone. “Ah, Stephane! Comment allez vous? Are Tom and Gerri up at the villa?” Mordecai was a bit perplexed that his friends hadn’t appeared at the dock to greet their royal guest.
“Monsieur Murphy is in London, and Madame Murphy sends her regrets. She was called away to Sardinia on urgent business this morning,” replied Stephane with a courtly bow.
“What a pity! Sardinia—she must have taken the yacht then?” Mordecai inquired.
“No, she took the Wally.”