“What next business venture?” I ask.
“Rowdy didn’t make rent.”
That causes me to focus on my dad. “What?”
“You know Rowdy, who tried to decrease prices with the hopes his business would pick up? He said it’s his last month. He’s done.”
Unlike my dad, who only thinks of an open marina spot as a chance to jack the rent on the next person, I hate seeing people go out of business. Especially a guy like Rowdy, who’s been here since before I was born.
“I think we should cut him a deal.” I scan the marina once again.
My dad shakes his head. “You gotta harden that soft spot, son. There’s no place in business for it.”
“Well, there’s something to be said for old-timers. I know Rowdy has helped Chevelle over the years. He mentors the young people who come in and will eventually take over.”
A long, exhausted sigh leaves my dad’s lips. “Let’s put Rowdy aside for right now. It’s time we start our own touring business, and I want you to run it.”
“Why, when we have two charter companies at the marina already?”
“Because Rowdy probably won’t be here much longer and because it’s a thriving business and I’m not one to ignore an already successful business model. Plus, you need to learn what it’s like to start a new business before I just hand you mine.” He raises his graying eyebrows.
My dad’s been holding the reins of the company for years even though my mom wants him to take more time off.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“Let’s face it, Sunrise Bay isn’t the same Podunk fishing town it once was.”
“Like when you came and snatched the entire marina up for yourself?” I shouldn’t be snide with my dad. It never ends well. But I’m feeling protective over Chevelle again, and the last thing I’d ever be comfortable doing is putting her out of business.
“I haven’t heard you complaining when you use the money I’ve made to live the life you do.” Both those gray eyebrows shoot up and I glance away. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, it would be different than Chevelle’s. We wouldn’t be focusing on horny Joe Blows looking for a party. We’d be catering to a more sophisticated clientele. Sure, there’d be fishing, but that would come secondary to the cocktails and caviar on board.”
I don’t ask for further clarification because I’m not even entertaining the idea anyway.
“I figure since we’re in the middle of tourist season right now, we can have a soft opening before the season’s over.”
“And what about my responsibilities here?” I look around my office.
“I’ll take them over—for now.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “And if I refuse?”
He stands from the sofa and follows my line of vision out toward the bay. “Then you’ll be cut off.”
He’s threatened for years to cut me off financially and it’s never gonna happen. There’s no way he’d leave his legacy to anyone but his only son. No fucking way.
“How about I think about it? Give me two weeks or so to finish off the sablefish season. Then we can talk.”
He places his hand on the doorknob to my office. “I’ll order the boat.”
I open my mouth, but he’s already on the other side of the door, walking down the hall and whistling like one of the seven dwarfs. God, the guy aggravates me to no end.
The pressure of having to prove myself to him is never ending. I sit behind my desk and pull up Rowdy’s account. Screw my dad. I take my wallet out of my back pocket and grab my bank card. A few seconds later, Rowdy’s account is paid in full.
I know it’s not a long-term solution and it’s only a Band-Aid on a widening hole, but it buys me some time to think of a plan.
My office phone rings, but I don’t have to answer to know who it is. It’s the same guy who’s called my cell phone five times, and I would answer, but it’s now been two hours and forty-eight minutes since Chevelle left with those guys.
I can’t hold Fisher off forever though, so I pick up. “Cameron Baker.”
“What the fuck? I barely get time away from my house these days and you’re late.”
I hear the patrons of Truth or Dare Brewery, Fisher’s brothers’ bar in the background.
“I got caught up at work, but I’m coming.”
“I’m finishing this beer and then I’m out, so hurry.” He hangs up without telling me if he’s one sip from being done or holding a brand-new beer.
The universe must be on my side because I spot Chevelle pulling into the harbor.
I try not to let my presence be seen through the window, so I turn off my office light and watch the boat pull into the dock.
One of the dipshits is throwing up over the edge of the boat, his dumbass friends laughing at him. Then I catch a guy standing with Chevelle in the wheelhouse while she brings in the boat. He’s standing way too close for my comfort, so I grab my keys and my light jacket, heading down there.
By the time I make it down the elevator and out the doors, two of his friends have the one guy between them as they escort him down the pier, all of their drunken friends following.
All except the guy who was with Chevelle a minute ago. He’s on the deck, talking to her, so I approach them.
“I’m really sorry. Let me pay you for cleaning costs.” He pulls out a wad of cash, licks his thumb, and pulls out three hundred dollars.
“It’s okay, honestly. Your deposit will cover the cost. Just don’t expect to see it refunded on your credit card.”
He chuckles and holds out the bills. “Please. I feel horrible.”
She smiles and accepts the money, which means it must’ve been one horrible charter for her because that’s not like Chevelle at all.
“I’m pretty sure they’re going to crash right out. Maybe the two of us could—”
Over my dead body.
“You ready?” I interrupt.
Both of them turn toward me as though they didn’t hear me approaching.
“Oh,” the guy says.
“Cameron Baker.” I hold my hand out between them.
“Cam,” Chevelle says with that bite in her tone that makes me want to swing her over my shoulder.
“Hey, unfortunately my friends got too drunk and left her boat like this.” He gestures to the side, and I see vomit, spilled beer, and cheese and crackers everywhere.
“It’s nothing, honestly. Bachelor parties are always a little crazy.” She smiles at no-name guy since he didn’t have the courtesy to give me his name after I introduced myself.
“Craig!” the guys from the party shout.
He glances at them and back at us. “Thanks a lot. We really appreciate it, and I’ll be sure to give you five stars on Yelp.” He winks and earns another killer smile from Chevelle.
I suck in a deep breath, my nostrils flaring when I exhale.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You better get going because there’s a heavy fine if someone throws up on the pier,” I say.
Chevelle narrows her eyes at me. I shrug.
“Really? I would think it’s pretty common,” the idiot says.