My father would never understand. To him, real success had a corner office, a six-figure salary, and a respectable title that made people nod with approval when you said it at cocktail parties. To my mom, success was a family and a clean home.
But this? This floating paradise of gold confetti and six-star service? This was my canvas. My stage. My proof that I was exceptional at something, even if it wasn’t the career my parents once imagined for me.
It killed me that I still longed for their approval, even knowing it would likely never come.
Would my father see this show and finally understand it? Would he see the way my brain worked, how I could take a list of absurd requests and turn them into a seamless, spectacular few days at sea? I wanted him to understand how hard I worked, how much thought and care went into every place setting and party playlist and flower arrangement.
And I wanted him to see how much joy it brought me — not just doing the work, but nailing it. There was an art to this, and I wanted my father to appreciate the craft: seeing a guest’s face light up when they walked into a themed dinner that was better than they’d dreamed, hearing them laugh until they couldn’t breathe during a ridiculous game I orchestrated, watching them actually relax because they knew they were in capable hands.
I created memories.
I left my mark on guests from all over the world.
That was success to me.
That was the kind of work that mattered.
“Couple more notes,” Captain said, glancing down. “Nicole doesn’t drink tequila after an unfortunate incident at the AVN Awards. Mark doesn’t eat anything purple. And they want a ‘Naughty Nautical Brunch’ on their last day — complete with penis-shaped pancakes and mimosa towers.”
Finn rolled the preference sheet package and tucked it into the front pocket of his shirt. “You know it’s a party when I pull out the penis molds.”
“This is going to be the most insane charter of the season,” Palmer said, but the way he rubbed his hands together showed he was just as excited about it as I was.
Captain stacked the pages, shaking his head with a weary grin. “Here’s hoping they tip like porn stars, too.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, flipping my notebook closed. “If they want the wildest, most unforgettable charter of their lives… they came to the right boat.”
CHARTER CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
SEASON 4, EPISODE 4
CHARTER 3
LEAH BROOKS: THIRD STEWARDESS
PRODUCER
Welcome back! How are you feeling?
LEAH
I’m feeling so much better, but also still mortified. How embarrassing to get sick on the second charter, andaftera night out. I just hope Captain doesn’t think I was hungover. Not a good look!
PRODUCER
Well, I think everyone is glad to have you back. Are you excited about this charter?
LEAH
Oh my God, yes! These guests are so freaking fun. I mean, I have seen more ass and titties in the past twenty-fourhours than in my entire life, I think, but they’re super nice.
PRODUCER
It was quite… interesting, unpacking for them, wouldn’t you say?
Leah covers her face and laughs.