HAYDEN
I pick up a tray of appetizers in the kitchen, fancy-looking sushi. “Take those around and then come back,” Helga, the cook, says.
“Okay.” I walk up the stairs, and Kimberly is coming down. “Bloody hell, they’re already tipsy,” she says.
“It’s going to be a long night.” I get to the lower level and decide to go up to the dance floor first.
Men are standing around and chatting. A few are dancing with the four girls.
Basil’s working behind the bar. His eyes are planted firmly on the scantily dressed women as he watches them dance. I hold my tray out to a guest. “Can I tempt you to eat something, sir?”
“Thank you.” They all begin to take the sushi, and the tray empties in no time at all. I go back down to the lower deck and make my way to the kitchen.
“They loved it,” I tell Helga. “It was a hit.”
“Good news.” She smiles as she pushes another tray over. I go back upstairs and head out onto the deck. There are three men sitting at the bar talking to Christopher and Kimberly.
Gorgeous men.
A little older, maybe mid- to late thirties . . . next-level hot.
My eyes linger on them as I do the rounds. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is must be hilarious. They haven’t stopped laughing.
Kimberly leaves them and weaves through the crowd over to me. “Who are those men at the bar?” I ask.
She looks over. “I just met them. The one in the middle is Mr. Masters. He owns this yacht. He must be fucking loaded,” she whispers.
“And the other two?”
“The blond one is Spencer Jones.” Her eyes linger on him. “Fucking gorgeous. Have you seen his smile?”
“I have.”
“The other one is a politician, apparently.”
“Oh.” I widen my eyes. “Jeez.”
They laugh out loud again.
“Christo must have told them he’s dating one of us.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They just asked me which one of us is his girlfriend because they want to meet her.”
“Oh.” I screw up my face. “Great.” I plaster on my fake smile and head on out to the deck.
“Come over here.” Masters holds his arm out for me as he waves me over.
I walk over and awkwardly hold my tray out with a smile. “Sushi, gentlemen?”
“Put that down and talk to us,” the man with the black hair says as he pulls up a stool beside him.
“Hayden is very busy,” Christopher replies. “Get back to work, Hayden.”
What?
“No, no, no. Never too busy for us,” Spencer replies as he taps the chair. “Sit down.”
“Hello.” I smile.
“Julian Masters.” He holds his hand out to shake mine. “How do you do?”
“Hello. I’m Hayden.”
“Hayden who?” He raises an eyebrow in question.
“Funeral Home,” Christopher cuts in before I can answer.
Huh? My eyes flick to Christopher in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s the cocktail I’m making.” He fakes a smile. “To the funeral home we go.”
They roar with laughter.
“I’m Spencer.” The blond man smiles as he holds out his hand. “You can call me Spence.”
Christopher shakes his cocktail shaker hard and at lightning speed above his shoulder as he glares at Spencer.
I frown over at him. He’s acting very weird tonight.
“I’m Sebastian Garcia,” the dark-haired man purrs in a deep, sexy voice. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it.
A tea towel flicks at high speed past my face and whips Mr. Garcia in the face. “Damn flies,” Christopher snaps.
Huh?
“There are no flies at night,” I say.
“Sand flies.”
The men laugh out loud again, so hard that they can hardly stay seated on their stools.
What the hell is so funny?
Christopher fills the three cocktail glasses in front of him. “Here you go. Three trips to the funeral home.”
Masters picks his up and takes a sip. “That’ll do it.” He winces.
Spencer takes a sip and scrunches his face up. “Fuck, that’s bad.”
“Are you having fun?” I ask them.
“Sure am,” Sebastian replies. “There’s only one thing that will make this night better.”
“What’s that?” I smile.
“A foot massage from Mr. Christo here.”
What?
Christopher glares at him.
Mr. Masters tips his head back and laughs hard. Spencer nearly slides off the chair in hysterics.
Okay, I’m lost . . . they must be on something.
High as a kite.
Nothing being said here is even remotely funny. I raise my eyebrows in disgust. “I’ll leave you to it.” I walk off and begin to offer the tray of sushi around again.
“Can I offer you some sushi, sir?” I ask.
“Sure.” The man smiles. I glance over to see Sebastian sitting down on a deck chair. He’s kicking his shoes off.
What the hell?
Christopher isn’t really going to massage his feet, is he?
My god, rich people are the worst.
Christopher kneels in front of him and picks up one of his feet.
“This is the best night of my fucking life.” Mr. Masters smiles. He holds the phone up as if filming it.
I keep offering the platter, and I glance over to see Christopher twisting Sebastian’s big toe so hard that he nearly breaks it off.
“Ahh,” he cries.
What the hell is he doing?
Christopher twists it again, the whole foot this time, as if he is trying to dislocate it or something.
“Ahh,” Sebastian screams.
The two other men are hysterical. Tears are running down their faces.
I march over. “Christopher. Can I speak to you for a moment, please?”
“Sure.” He stands. “I’ll just make you more comfortable, sir,” he tells him. He pulls the lever on the chair and tips it backward with force. Sebastian goes flying onto the floor.
I grab Christopher’s arm and drag him around the corner. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper angrily. “You’re going to get us all fired.”
“I don’t care.”
“There are five others who do.”
“Man overboard,” we hear Captain Mark call over the speaker. “All hands on deck.”
Bodie comes running up the side of the yacht with a ring and throws it into the sea.
A naked man jumps into the water to the cheers of his friends.
Why the hell would anyone have a bachelor party on a yacht? This is just ridiculous and completely out of control.
“We’ve got a problem,” Kimberly snaps from behind us.
“What now?” I whisper.
“Basil has gone missing.”
“What?” I frown.
“I can’t find Basil. He’s supposed to be on the bar upstairs, and he’s not there.”
“Well, where is he?” Christopher asks.
“I don’t know,” she stammers. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Did he fall overboard?” I gasp in horror.
“Who fucking knows. This is a disaster.” She storms off through the people.
Christopher and I walk out onto the deck to watch the dramatics as the two men are pulled from the sea. Their friends are all hanging over the rail and calling out and heckling them.
“Umm . . . I found Basil,” Christopher says.
“Where?”