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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.
