Love and Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page B

spills.”
    I look around. The pier is totally dry beneath my studded Converse.
    He reads my mind. “I know, it’s not likely. I’m just saying, it’s against the rules. You’ll get a fine.”
    “The rules ? Whose rules? What are you, some kind of nautical Nazi Youth?”
    He raises his eyebrows in surprise, and then assumes the professional all-American mask again. “Something like that.”
    I take one last drag of my cigarette, stub it out, and walk toward the speedboat, ignoring him. How bad can a yacht party be when some angel-faced boat boy is freaking out about a stupid cigarette? This is just another rich guy’s folly. Some loaded, insecure friend of Stef who wants to impress his friends and a bunch of girls by showing them a good time in the Caribbean sunshine. Bet you twenty bucks this Hal guy wears his shirt undone to midchest and says things like “island time, mon.”
    Once on board the speedboat, I grab a glass of champagne. Cheers to me.
    And like I say, it’s a good decision. Because the minute we clear the marina, the yacht—sorry, the superyacht—we’re about to board comes into view. It’s stunning, like something out of a movie, over 250 feet long, with three tiers stacked up like a wedding cake.
    “A staff of eighteen for the comfort of up to twelve guests.” A rote speech from one of the boat boys. I look around for my clean-cut goody-two-shoes. He’s up front, staring into the wind. “Equipped with a swimming pool and a helipad, the Hamartia also boasts nine staterooms, including an indoor cinema and a fully equipped gymnasium with two state-of-the-art Pilates reformers.”
    “Oh, gnarly. I can work on my core,” I say, to no one in particular. Which is good, because no one is listening.
    “I am literally freaking out, you guys!” one of the girls squeals. “ Literally . This is me, literally freaking out.”
    We pull up to the Hamartia and go on board. It’s even bigger up close: shiny, white, and immaculately clean, like a bathroom turned inside out.
    The other girls are squeaking and clapping their hands, and then accept yet more champagne from another boat boy. The crew is all men, I notice. And the host is nowhere in sight.
    Something isn’t right.
    I turn to Stef. “What are we really doing here?”
    He smiles, looking as unattractive as I’ve ever seen him. “Just good fun, babe.”
    Hmm.
    Thinking, I gaze out at the view. We’re a long way from shore. I can just make out the luxury hotels along Grace Bay beach, some with cabanas set up out front. People lined up working on their tans, or their marriages, or whatever people go on vacation to do.
    There are three other yachts within swimming distance, and I can see a family running around on one, the daddy showing his kids how to do the mainsail, or some shit like that. My father taught me to sail, too. He taught me to sail but can’t bother to call and tell me about the divorce.
    My parents are divorcing. Wow. Every now and again it hits me, however much I try to ignore it. He hasn’t called, and I haven’t called my mother back.… It’s like our family died or something.
    I suddenly have a thumping headache that the champagne won’t help. Caffeine. I need caffeine. And sugar.
    “Could I please get some Coke?” I ask the boat boy offering the champagne, a short guy with a terrible cliché of a goatee.
    “Si.” Goatee draws a little one-inch-square plastic packet of white powder from his pocket and drops it into my hand. I stare at it for a second.
    “No, um, a Coca-Cola,” I say, staring at it. Cocaine. Fuck me, the crew is actually handing out drugs?
    “I’ll take that for later,” says Stef, smoothly pocketing it. He swings an arm around my back. It’s annoyingly ownership-like, but reassuringly protective at the same time. “I’m going to bed with Dr. Ambien and Dr. Dramamine, babe. See you in eight hours.”
    “Uh—okay—” I say, suddenly feeling panicky. Stef is my only link to