GISELLA
Deck. No question. I’d rather scrub teak than cater to a billionaire telling me his drink is exactly two degrees too warm. I don’t mind laundry, though. It’s therapeutic sometimes.
PRODUCER
Let’s talk about that first charter. How did you feel about the guests?
Gisella smirks, shrugs.
GISELLA
Oh, they weren’t so bad. Benedict was only mildly insufferable, and Brielle only looked like she wanted to murder me for about ten seconds when her hair got wet on the jet ski. I don’t know. They were a little difficult, I guess, but it’s rare to have charter guests who aren’t. And honestly? That was the happiest I was all season.
PRODUCER
Why’s that?
GISELLA
Because back then, I thought the worst thing I’d deal with was a tech mogul making me inflate the giant slide, or an Instagram model making me risk going overboard to get her the perfect shot.
Gisella shakes head, pauses for a moment.
GISELLA
I was on a yacht in the Mediterranean with my boyfriend, making good money, catching a nice tan, and having fun. I thought,this is it — this is what they mean when they say you’re living the dream.
PRODUCER
And that changed?
GISELLA
Yeah. Because back then, I thought my biggest problem was going to be the guests.
PRODUCER
And what was?
GISELLA
The chief stew.
I was excited the next morning as we braced to welcome our next charter guests.
For approximately twenty minutes.
Then, I found out Leah was sick.
I was on my way up to the deck, tightening my ponytail as I swung through the crew mess to see what Finn had laid out for breakfast. When I saw fresh croissants, I moaned, snatching one to have with my coffee.
I was, surprisingly, not hungover — not that I was in tip-top shape, either, but I’d had worse mornings, for sure.
Unfortunately, that was not the case for Leah.
I heard the retching from the cabin she shared with Bernard even over the gentle hum of the washers and dryers going. Bernard slipped out of their cabin with a grimace, shaking his head at me. “It’s an absolute crime scene in there.”
“Hungover?” I guessed.