The Starboard Knife

Je

“Alex,” she called out, lifting her voice over the breeze and the sound of water slapping against the hull. She’d been on it a number of times already and the lush, exotic, garish nature of the yacht was starting to feel like old news. Still, the thing was impressive, even if it had lost a touch of its luster.

Alex turned, raised his sunglasses, and approached with his arms wide, moving in swiftly for a hug. “Happy birthday!”

She allowed him to hold the embrace longer than she was comfortable with, and then backed away.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said. “Everyone’s so excited.”

Alex nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “Of course. I love this thing,” he said, flicking his chin at The Harlot, “but it’s not much fun by myself. And besides, we can’t let your birthday go to waste watching Sex and The City reruns while you and Erica down pints of Rocky Road.”

Je

It was exactly what they’d pla

“So who’s coming?”

“I hope you don’t mind…” Je

Alex tilted his head to the side and groaned.

“I’m sorry. Look, I told Mark and Terri to behave—it won’t be like the last time, I promise.”

“Seriously, they hate me. Why would they even agree to come?”

“Their trip to Napa got cancelled and Terri didn’t want to waste the weekend watching Mark yell at the Giants on TV, so it was sort of a last resort.”

“Right, well, I’m glad they could grace us with their presence.”

Je

“And who wants to miss another naked supermodel, right?” It was a half-hearted attempt to sound enthusiastic. They’d all seen Erica drunk and naked so many times before that it was no longer a surprise or a bonus. “Come on, let’s get you situated. You need a drink in your hand.”

Alex walked down the stairs, into the belly of the yacht, where the walls were made of expensive mahogany and decorated with various nautical-themed paintings and curios. Surprisingly, he led her into one of the smaller side rooms that had a single twin bed and a footlocker made to look like an old treasure chest.

She’d expected him to lead her back to his room, the main cabin, where there was a big screen television that wouldn’t fit on the wall of her apartment; where there was a hot tub with a built in mini-bar; where he slept on red silk sheets in a king-sized bed.

He was often too forward with her, more than she was comfortable with, so the fact that he hadn’t immediately offered his bed made her pause and wonder if he’d finally gotten the hint. Or maybe he was angry with her for inviting Mark and Terri.

Or was he giving up? Would this be the last time she got to relax on his yacht? Would there be any more impromptu trips to Paris and Rome where she would have to creatively skirt around his suggestive attempts?

Was this it? Was she on her way out? Would he replace her with a new toy? Someone who would easily give him what he wanted?

Je

But it was so much fun experiencing all the things she’d never be able to afford herself. She’d had some mild success as a self-published author and her romance novels had even reached a couple of high-profile bestseller lists. Yet, as much as she tried to convince her friends that she wasn’t a rich and famous writer, sharing war stories with Stephen King and Nora Roberts, the royalties she earned barely paid the rent. Allowing Alex to treat her like a queen was the perfect escape from reality.

And if he had given up, at last, she realized that she wasn’t ready for the extravagant courting to come to an end.

“In here?” she asked, standing in the doorway. “But, I thought…” She looked past him, back toward the cavernous room where he’d made a number of not-so-discreet advances over the summer.

Alex leaned up against the wall. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I—yeah, I guess.”

He reached up and gingerly tugged on her earlobe—a small sign of affection. “Whatever Je

There it was again—the look in his eyes—something swimming way down in the deep green, where no light penetrated.

Je

Alex studied her, staring intently, nibbling his bottom lip while Je

She said, “If you don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“I can’t figure you out,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall, smiling a too-white smile. For a brief moment, Je

Alex grabbed her upper arm and squeezed with an unfamiliar insistence. The upturned corners of his lips—the cute dimples in his cheeks—said one thing, but the wrinkled skin between his eyebrows said another; jovial malevolence, if that was a thing.

She allowed him to guide her down the hallway, past the bathroom, past the closet-sized kitchen and other sleeping quarters, and into his room. It smelled new. Clean. Fresh, with an underlying hint of cigar smoke that the air filtration system hadn’t completely scrubbed away and that a quick spritz of laundry-scented freshener hadn’t been able to mask. The extinguished cigar butt lying dead in a nearby ashtray confirmed what her nose had picked up.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Alex said, reaching for her backpack. She allowed him to take it, and when he turned to put it on the bed, she took a quick peek at the soft flesh below her bicep and saw the indentations where his fingernails had been.

His firmness, or frustration, whatever it was, made her wary. He’d never done anything like it before. He’d always been soft and gentle with his coaxing. Sure, he’d stepped over the proverbial line way too many times, verbally, but whenever he’d put his hands on her in the past, it’d been with a tender touch.

Maybe I deserve it, she thought. I’ve been toying with him for too long now…I’d be pissed, too.

She decided to let it go. She decided that yes, maybe his irritation was warranted, if only a little. For all that she’d put him through over the past year, teasing him, leading him on, the fact that it’d taken him so long to get a

Je