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Next to me, Nicole had her phone to her ear as she paced. The wind blew her hair into her eyes, and she brushed it back impatiently. “What do you mean, you haven’t left yet?” she said into the phone. “Dad, please!”
Behind us was a boat—our boat, for the next few hours. It was a two-level thing, one of those boats used by companies that did harbor cruises. It went without saying that my budget could not afford a private harbor cruise for Vicki’s bachelorette, which was where Nicole and her dad came in.
Nicole’s dad, the bankruptcy lawyer, had a client whose harbor cruise company went under. The boat was in some kind of receivership. How exactly that worked—and how Nicole’s dad could use the boat for nothing—I didn’t know, and I didn’t ask. I only knew that I had the chance to throw a nice party for Vicki’s bachelorette, and all I had to pay was a fee to the city, four hundred bucks cash for the certified guy to captain it, and some beer and pizza.
The permit from the city was in my pocket. The captain was sitting in a folding chair, smoking a cigarette and waiting for go time. The food and drink was MIA.
Since I was busy setting everything up, and Nicole was an addict, Nicole’s dad was assigned to do the beer and liquor run. But from what I could hear of their conversation, it wasn’t happening because her dad had an emergency at the office. The pizza I’d tried to order wasn’t coming, either. I’d placed the order, paid, and waited forty-five minutes before the pizza place called back and informed me that they weren’t allowed to deliver to the pier for some legal reason. I offered to pick up the pizzas, was told someone else would call me back, and I hadn’t heard from them again.
Now I was panicking, wondering if I should leave to go harass the pizza place or stay here. I was almost positive someone else was eating my pizza right now. My credit card was maxed. There was no booze. I’d had no time to get decorations or any other party favors. My only plan for music for this party was to hook up my phone to the boat’s sound system, hit shuffle, and hope for the best.
When Vicki—who knew nothing of my problems—called five minutes ago, she’d told me what Finn and Alistair were doing tonight for Alistair’s bachelor party: They were watching a special showing of Oppenheimer in a theater downtown. That was it.
I was stressing out over this stupid party—which I hadn’t wanted to plan in the first place—and they were going to a movie. It enraged me so much that I texted Finn again.
Juliet: What does tonight cost for you? Thirty bucks?
Finn: Well, there’s popcorn. We might share a bag.
Juliet: Asshole.
Finn: I can’t help that it’s what Alistair wanted to do. He’s the dad of two little kids, and watching a serious three-hour movie uninterrupted is a pipe dream for him.
Juliet: I have to make nice with Mom’s boss and you get to sleep through a stupid movie. Men suck. The world isn’t fair.
Finn: I’m not going to… Okay, yes, I probably will.
Juliet: ASSHOLE.
“Dad, the boat is supposed to leave in an hour,” Nicole said into the phone. “Just pick up something. Anything. I’ll pay you back.”
The wind picked up. It carried the scent of oncoming rain.
At the head of the pier, a white delivery van pulled up and parked. At the same moment, my phone rang. It was Finn. I picked it up, thinking it would be easier to yell at him in real time.
“What do you want, Finn?” I said when I answered.
“I want to make it up to you,” Finn said.
“Listen, now isn’t the time for sex stuff,” I said, though honestly, I’d rather spend tonight naked with Finn than doing this party, or anything else. I tried not to think about it.
“I don’t mean sex stuff, though that’s on offer, too. I mean the party. Is my delivery there yet?”
I squinted at the van. A guy got out of the driver’s side, took a clipboard from the passenger side, and started down the pier toward me.
“What delivery?” I asked.
“The delivery I ordered. Actually, there are two. I hope it doesn’t rain tonight. Nice job stealing a boat, by the way.”
“We didn’t steal the boat. We borrowed it. We’re giving it back.”
“Still, it’s a stroke of genius. Pier 262, right? The deliveries should be arriving now.”
The guy with the clipboard stood waiting for me to get off the phone. He looked impatient. Too bad for him.
"What’s he delivering?” I asked Finn.
“Oh, good—that means he’s there. Food and drinks. Plus plates, cups, and cutlery. He should have everything.”
