and a bulge in his swim trunks. He stepped forward, blocking her way, grasped the tail of her belt, and tugged her toward him. He reeked of cigar and a musky cologne he hadn’t been wearing before. “We could both satisfy our hunger,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.
“Get off me,” she shouted, slapping away his hand. Taking advantage of his stunned look, she planted her palms on his chest and thrust him backwards. He stumbled and landed on the foot of the bed. She yanked her robe into place, a flush racing from her breast to the roots of her hair. “I’ll never be that desperate.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. “Coxe said you put out for him big-time.”
“You lying scumbags are all the same,” she said. “I suppose you’ll brag to him now, say you banged me silly all over that pristine duvet.”
“First chance I get,” he said. He stood up, hitched his trunks, brushed past her, and waddled toward the saloon.
“Everything okay?” Liz called from above.
“Ducky,” Salustrio said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Salustrio was in the cockpit, smoking another cigar and laughing with Jason at the helm. Her fury rising, Els imagined him hosting Coxe in the Goldman partners’ dining room to trade lies of conquest.
Fighting the yacht’s heel, she made her way back to the table, where she sat and rested her forehead on her arms. The boat’s motion churned the champagne and lobster in her stomach. Nausea pulled at her tongue. Though she took deep breaths and lowered her head to her knees, she was light-headed, and both chilled and sweaty at the same time. She prided herself on holding her liquor and never getting airsick, even in the most turbulent conditions, but here her gyroscope had lost its bearings.
When Liz came down the ladder, she asked for a glass of water.
His glance was appraising. “You need to go topside.”
She straightened and pulled her lapels tighter. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“While you’re on this boat, Ms. Gordon, I’ll tell you what’s in your best interest, and you’ll do it.” He took a ginger ale from the refrigerator and held it out to her.
“First you bully,” she said, keeping her hands in her lap. “Then play nice.”
“I’m responsible for everyone on this boat. Whether I’m nice or a bully is up to them.”
“I’m going to lie down over there.”
“You’ll keep feeling shitty if you stay below.”
“How the fuck do you know?”
“Twenty f-ing years at sea,” he said. “Now get up that ladder.”
Salustrio’s laughter floated down from above and Els looked out the hatchway, wondering if the joke he was sharing with Jason was on her.
Liz took her elbow and pulled her out of her chair. “Do I have to carry you?”
“I’ll thank you not to touch me again,” she said. She climbed into the sunlight. As soon as she left the odor of lobster behind, she began to revive. When Salustrio glanced at her, she hesitated.
“Go forward,” Liz said. “Away from that smoke.” Carrying the ginger ale, a banquette cushion, and a towel, he led her to the bow and kicked aside a coiled line. He propped the cushion against a hatch cover. “Lie down there.”
She sat down, pulled the robe over her knees, and hugged them. Liz dropped the towel onto the deck and nestled the ginger ale against the cushion. “You’ve had more sun than you think. Cover every inch. If you have to toss, aim that way.” Under the jib, deep green water laced with foam sluiced by. “You’ll be less queasy if you focus on something far away that’s not going up and down.” He squinted toward Nevis. “Try Jack’s, that house sitting all by itself in the big patch of green.”
She gazed at the house, intrigued to see it from this vantage point, and imagined its view of the expanse of sea and Iguana, a tiny copper arrow of sail crossing The Narrows.
Footsteps near her head and the anchor chain’s rattle woke her. When she opened her eyes, she was looking into the crown of a baseball cap, its grommets like tiny portholes, which she assumed Liz had placed over her face. She sat up. Her folded clothing was next to her. Jason stood on the foredeck coiling a line, his elbow a jerking wing. He wedged the coil between the halyard and the mast. Iguana rode at anchor in deep water off the Resort.
The nausea lingered, a tension in the back of her throat.