“You can rent a boat,” he says, rolling his eyes like it’s such obvious information to the general public, and I’m just wasting his breath here.
“Okay. Great!” It’s not really. How can I afford a boat for a hundred bucks? “How can I do that?”
“You need to go on the dock’s website and see what they have available,” he says.
“Can you do that for me?” I conjure a smile as big as I can possibly muster.
It’s wasted on him. “No, because they’re a private company.”
“O-okay.” I’m still trying to smile, but my facial muscles can’t hold on much longer. “Can you, maybe, check their website for me?” I add a few quick blinks, hoping it will help. I’ve always been bad at flirting, but I’m desperate at this point.
He drops his pen on the table with a huff, his head lolling to the side as he rolls his eyes before they settle on me. So much action into one move—the man has lost his calling in dramatic acting for sure. “Lady, do it from your phone!” he says before shutting the window in my face.
My phone. My twenty-buck burner flip phone. This thing can call and accept texts, but I can’t even write one of my own because it has only so many buttons. And by the time I’m done with a second word, I want to throw the thing into the wall. So the phone is out of the question.
Wiping the sweat away from my face, I look around and notice a small pier a bit ahead of the ferry station.
Grabbing my suitcase, I head toward a few boats anchored along the wooden walkway.
I don’t know what I was expecting but not eight boats total with zero people and zero buildings. Not even a tiny tent where I can talk to someone about renting anything. Where is everyone?
Making my way down the dock, I duck to look into the boats, hoping someone might happen to be inside. This is when I hear an engine starting. It seems to be coming from the very last boat on the left.
I take off in a sprint, dragging my two-wheeled suitcase behind me. It sounds like it’s dying a rapid and painful death, exhaling its last violent breath. I mentally order it to survive one last trip and then I promise to bury it with honor.
When I reach the boat, I’m out of breath, I don’t have anyenergy left, and it’s past dinnertime. I should have asked for extra food on the plane, considering it was free. But the jerk next to me and the awful turbulence killed the mood—I even skipped those much-desired mimosas.
My suitcase slows down my already unsteady run, and my face has melted into my décolleté. I feel like a gross, popped balloon.
The small fishing boat is about to take off, so I don’t have time to think. I grab my suitcase and throw it on board. Then I throw myself with a half jump half fall, hitting the railing and landing face-first with my foot hooked on the ledge of the boat, the hem of my skirt covering my head, and my ass hanging midair. I must be a sight to behold. I hope my suitcase landed better, otherwise it’ll be down another wheel.
Suddenly, the engine stops, and a loud voice booms somewhere from behind me, quieting all other sounds around. “What the fuck?”
It’s familiar. The rasp and angriness in it are familiar. The disgust too. And the slight growl.
I don’t think he’s talking about my underwear with a yellow duck saying ‘Don’t quack with me’ on the back, even though it’s the view he’s currently seeing.
“What the fuck is this?” The voice turns menacing. And even though I’m beyond any fear at this point, I get a shiver. I have some self-preservation left.
Trying to unhook my foot from the railing, I only make it worse. When the owner of the deep voice gets tired of seeing me struggle, he grabs me by my waist and lifts me in the air.
“Oof,” I breathe out, trying to cover my bum. But he’s already placing me on my feet, and gravity helps my skirt hide the duck.
“Oh, c’mon,” he cries out dramatically. “It can’t be true.” He lifts his face to the sky with the king of all groans.
“Oh, stop it.” I fix my skirt around my thighs because I need to make my hands busy.
I can see by the way his chest expands that he’s preparing himself for a big speech, when another voice comes out of nowhere.
“Hey, hey, young lady. What are you doing aboard my ship?” A shorter man appears in my peripheral vision, but I can’t bring myself to break eye contact. When I don’t answer, the man comes around to stand next toMr. King, whom I give one last withering look to before directing my attention to the newcomer.
The new man looks like he’s from the islands, and I instantly feel better, dropping my attitude only a notch. The local people are always very welcoming, and I feel a spark of hope that I actually might have hit the jackpot. I don’t care what this grumpy loser has to say—the boat belongs to this man.
“I need to get to Maupiti Island.” I shoot him a sincere smile.
“Huh!” He claps his hands. “Look at that, we’re going that way already, so you’ve come to the right place.”
My nemesis whips his head toward the man, breaking his heavy stare. I consider it a win—anything to make him sour.
