Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I stumbled forward, dragging that hand he’d just had in his grasp through my hair in an attempt to steady myself as I headed for the main salon. My breath was shallow, my chest caving in around my lungs.
I swiped a large tray from the counter as I passed it, ready to gather up whatever dishes the guests were finished with, and that’s when I saw it.
A soft, glowing blue light in the corner of the galley.
My heart lurched.
I’d completely forgotten about the cameras.
CHARTER CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
SEASON 4, EPISODE 4
CHARTER 3
GARY PARKS: CAPTAIN
PRODUCER
With three charters done, we’re a third of the way through the season. How are you feeling so far?
CAPTAIN GARY
Oh, mate, can’t complain. We’ve had a few hiccups — deck crew needed a bit to find their sea legs with docking — but I reckon we’re on the up. Interior’s running like a dream, six-star service every charter, and no more bickering between the chef and chief. From where I’m standing, we’re sitting pretty heading into the back half of the season.
PRODUCER
So, you’d say the crew is working out well?
CAPTAIN GARY
Yeah, solid crew. Food’s been top-notch, guests are loving the deck crew’s entertainment, and Ember’s absolutely smashing it as chief stew. She was made for this gig. Service is spot-on, boat’s sparkling, guests can’t stop raving about the little ways she made their charters special. I knew she had it in her.
PRODUCER
I guess you can relax a little more now, then, yeah? With everything running so smoothly.
Gary laughs, shakes head.
CAPTAIN GARY
Ah, you’ve done it now. That’s a bloody jinx if I’ve ever heard one.
By the time charter four wrapped, we had found our rhythm.
It wasn’t perfect — not by a long shot — but the chaos felt more controlled. Palmer and the deck crew had Cap beaming with their docking, not a single line touching the water and every meter of distance being called correctly. Leah seemed hell-bent on proving herself after being down a charter, the laundry executed perfectly and cabins polished to perfection, and Bernard had fully settled into his role as my second stew. I could trust him implicitly with dinner service, knowing he would not just help me pull off every theme with the table scape, but that we’d work together seamlessly to provide luxury service to every guest.
I did hear Palmer complaining to Cameron about Gisella one morning as they uncovered the chairs on the sundeck, something about her moving with zero sense of urgency. I had yet to ask for her to do more for interior than run a few plates at dinner service or help Leah touch up cabins in the evenings. She was a deck/stew, which meant she was just as much at my disposal as Palmer’s, but I was happy to run the boat without her help as much as possible.
And Finn and I had found whatever this new normal was between us.
We spoke when we needed to, coordinated service with tight efficiency, and put on a united front for the cameras. But beyond that, I stayed away.
I had to.
Because if I’d learned anything from that late night in the galley, it was that my body wasn’t my ally when it came to Finn Pearson. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up making the kind of mistake that couldn’t be undone.
But just because we were all working hard and finding our groove didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of entertainment for the production crew to capture.
The fourth charter had the usual guest dramatics. One of the primary’s friends insisted on wearing heels everywhere — on the deck, on the tender, even on the jet ski. The entire crew watched in horrified fascination as she attempted to climb onto the swim platform in four-inch Louboutins for a picture, only to slip and send one flying into the water. Eli had to dive after it before it sank, and I had to dry the pair out with a hairdryer while she wailed about their impending ruination.
On our crew night out after that charter, sparks flew between Leah and Cameron again, the two of them giggling to each other at one end of the table at dinner before grinding on one another the rest of the night at the bar. I’d turned in early that evening, catching a cab back with Palmer who seemed just as intent on getting sleep as I was.
During the fifth charter, poor Eli lived out his most embarrassing moment of the season. He’d been tasked with repositioning one of the jet skis, a simple enough job. Or, at least, it should have been. But within minutes of him pushing off from the yacht, he’d realized he didn’t have the key.
Or his radio.
Production had a field day capturing the footage of Eli slowly floating away as he waved his hands in the air and whistled, trying to get someone’s attention. Of course, not a single producer or cameraperson said a thing. It wasn’t until Gisella spotted him, and she’d had a full-on laugh before radioing for Palmer.