Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

In Rachel's vacant room, Sara and Aisha stared blankly at each other, shocked at what they had woken up to. Had Rachel truly disappeared, or was this just some big misunderstanding? For Aisha, the potential consequences could be epic. Sara saw it as an excuse to go home.

After hearing Hayden's demands, Rachel retreated to room. What upset her and ruined her day was how Hayden had casually told her, not asked her, but told her, he was planning something with a new twist for the following evening. Hayden's presumption that he could use her in any way he wished depressed her. She couldn't decode which was worse: the financial effects of owing him the money, or the self-esteem effects the debt was having on her mental health.
Around eleven p.m., with nerves on edge and sleep out of the question, Rachel pulled a top and shorts over her bikini, although it still felt like it was ninety degrees outside. She decided on a walk on the beach, a moonlight dip perhaps, that would clear her head. The night was perfect for it, warm and balmy.

In her search for a solution to Hayden, she walked along the beach to the bay, where the beach ended. Lacking any solution for her dilemma with Rookwood, she forgot about her swim, and turned back to the house. Nothing came to her on the walk back either.

As the shoreline led her to the house, the low purr of an outboard motor grew behind her. Ignoring it, she started diagonally across the sand to the corner of the lawn and the guest house. She didn't look back.
"Are you okay?" a female voice on the boat asked.
"I'm fine, thanks," she answered as she kept walking.
The engine revved, and a Boston Whaler tender pulled up even with her twenty yards offshore. Rachel stopped, and turned to see the silhouettes of three people aboard the boat.
"Did you hear anything about a party on the beach tonight? It was supposed to be pretty wild, we wanted to check it out," the girl said.
"I walked to the point and back, I didn't see any parties," said Rachel.
"Oh, too bad. We're on a boat out in Cherry Harbor, right over there," the girl pointed northeast.
Rachel was tempted; they came across as friendly and chill, not the rowdy drunks that so often show up on the big weekends.
"It's a small group of cool, hip people, you're welcome to join us, I promise you'll have a great time," she coaxed.
A party would help her forget her problems quicker and probably for longer than a swim. She thought.
"You swear you're not trolling for girls to supply a boatload of horny college guys who couldn't get dates?" Rachel asked, stepping to the edge of the water.
"Nothing like that, I swear," said the guy at the helm, in a British accent.
"Ride back whenever I decide?" she demanded.
The girl spoke again, "Sure, it's only five minutes away. We're moored in the bay of what looks like a deserted island; It's a big boat, we have a lot of water toys.
Finally, the girl held up a little vial and shook it to get Rachel's attention. This convinced Rachel to shed her top and shorts and roll them up with her sandals. Leaving the bundle at the edge of the grass, she waded out towards the boat to get a closer look. The people seemed her age and normal, if there was such a thing in the Hamptons, so she took a few short swim strokes and grabbed the boarding ladder, pulling herself aboard.
"Hi, I'm Moe," said the guy steering the boat.
"I'm Vanessa, Here's a towel," the girl said.
"Thanks, I'm Rachel."
Vanessa introduced the second guy as Abe. He also spoke with a British accent, but Vanessa sounded American. The guys weren't English; even in the dark, she could see they were Middle Eastern. Rachel sat on a cushion, and Vanessa pressed the vial into her hand before fishing two beers from a cooler. Rachel began her process of trying to forget.

"No beach party, let's get back to the boat," said Moe.
"Are you up for it, Rachel?" Vanessa asked.
Rachel nodded, and Moe opened the throttle, pointing the boat northeast along the shore toward Cherry Harbor. After only a few minutes, she could see the faint outline of lights that defined what could only be a super-yacht in the dark. Moe cut the engine to idle, approaching the stern of the ship, where the tender bumped gently against the beach club, a double-garage-door-sized platform at the boat's transom that swung down to water level for easy sunning and swimming.

"Kind of insulting to call it a boat, it's more like a ship," Rachel said, straining her neck looking up.
"Jolly right, she's a ship! sixty-one meters, four decks," said Moe. A crew member helped them aboard and took charge of the tender. Abe led them into the bowels of the ship. In the dim light, Rachel saw that both Abe and Moe were younger than her, fit, and quite handsome. Probably rich as fuck too, she surmised. Vanessa was about her height. Late twenties, she guessed, long wavy brown hair, tall and fit, everything Rachel liked. As her future possibilities brightened, Rachel's mood brightened, causing a smile.
Through a garage full of water toys, down a hall, past a gym, to a set of stairs leading up to the main deck, Abe and Moe let the girls go up first. At the top of the stairs, Rachel whistled, and Abe laughed.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The aft part of the main deck, where the stairs emerged, was open to the sky and devoted to lounging, sunning, and outdoor dining. About a dozen people were gathered there. The women were attired mostly in bikinis, and the men in swim trunks. On the dining table was a seafood buffet, and a bartender stood ready to fill drink orders.
The forward part of the deck consisted of a spacious salon with three large seating areas and a dining room that could seat twelve. Forward of the dining area was the kitchen/galley and crew's quarters, another door in the dining room led downstairs to four ensuite guest cabins and a master suite, Abe explained.

"Let me introduce you," Vanessa took Rachel's hand and pulled her towards a group of five people seated on one of the sectionals.
"Ifty Kahn, I want you to meet Rachel. We found her wandering the beach. She seemed lonely, I thought we could cheer her up," Vanessa squeezed Rachel's hand.
A middle-aged man stood up and spread his arms wide. "Pleasure to meet you, Rachel," Ifty said. His dark eyes twinkled, and his teeth sparkled white when he smiled.
"Thank you so much, you're too kind," Rachel smiled back.
"Such a lovely face should only wear a smile. Please, let me help make you happy, in any way you like," Ifty offered. A master of the double entendre, Ifty's were doubly effective, delivered in his British accent.
"Would you join us in a smoke?" another younger man asked, reaching for a hookah.
"Thanks, but not this late, I'm afraid I'd fall asleep and miss all the fun," Rachel said.
"Ifty owns the boat; this is his son, David," Vanessa said.
"Hi, David," said Rachel.
"This is Moshe, Ebbe, and Ashanta." Vanessa introduced the two men as friends of David and Ashanta as David's girlfriend. Can I show Rachel the rest of the ship, Ifty?" she asked.
"Of course, dear, you're my guest, whatever your hearts desire." He was doing it again.

Vanessa led Rachel to an upper deck, with a media room, two more guest suites, and the ship's bridge. At the stern, it opened to a sundeck and another outdoor dining space. A shaded outdoor sun area at the bow allowed a giant inflatable slide to be set up for quick access to the water.
"There's more," Vanessa said as she urged her to climb another set of stairs to the top deck. There, a shallow pool, half of it under a retractable translucent roof, and the other half open to the stars, dominated the space.
"It's not just a pool, it's a 'spool', a combo pool and spa. Want to try it?" Vanessa asked.
"It's so quiet up here, shame to spoil it with those noisy jets," Rachel said.
"It's my favorite spot on the whole boat," Vanessa said as she stepped in, and Rachel followed. Vanessa pushed a button for a server but left the jacuzzi jets off. They sank into what felt like chilled water, and a waiter appeared for their drink order.
"Gin and tonics sound good?" asked Vanessa.
"Sure, great. So, what's Ifty's story? He's pretty smooth if you ask me," Rachel started.
"Ifty's father was the air conditioner king of Pakistan, not surprising when you realize they hail from Turbat, the hottest city in the country. Ifty expanded his father's fortune, building a worldwide network of data centers; today, he's worth billions. I met him in a club in Miami several years ago. I'm a magnet for Middle Eastern guys for some reason. Ifty is Pakistani. I have no idea why they all love me, it's just the way it is," said Vanessa.
"So what brings you and the rest of the gang to the Hamptons for the fourth?" Rachel wondered, searching for a spark or connection.
"Ifty and his crew were bringing the yacht up from the Bahamas ahead of hurricane season. Ifty got distracted with the idea of New York and the Hamptons; I can't say exactly why. He called me in Miami, then flew me to New York so I could show them around, as his guide and arm candy. That's it, he's a perfect gentleman and treats me great," Vanessa said.
"Middle Easterners are like that," Rachel said.
"Play Madonna and they'll respect you. Sleep with them, and instantly you're a whore. Then all bets are off," Vanessa retorted matter-of-factly.

"Ifty was disappointed to find New York City not bustling, but deserted. I explained American Independence Day and the social scene in the Hamptons to him, and he decided he wanted to experience that instead," Vanessa went on. Rachel sensed Vanessa was happy to have someone to talk to.
"We arrived yesterday, but he doesn't know a soul here. We couldn't even get a decent mooring; they all blew him off. So we're anchored out here in no-mans-land, with no services. I feel kind of sorry for Ifty, actually," she said.
"People around here aren't exactly known for hospitality to strangers, no matter how big their boats are," said Rachel.
"You and I may know that. But have you ever tried to tell a billionaire anything?" Vanessa sighed.
Rachel laughed. "In fact. I do that a lot. I'm an art consultant, and part of my job is advising wealthy clients on what to do and what not to do. Bossing them around. That's the part I like best," Rachel chuckled.
"Art consultant, that's interesting," Vanessa said.
"What do you do, Vanessa?" Rachel was truly curious.
"Can you keep a secret?" she demanded.
"Sure, what? Don't say you're with the CIA!" Rachel snickered.
"No, it's way worse. I have an 'OnlyFans' page. Vanessa looked at Rachel for a reaction before going on.
"I'm recording my best years, and I'm counting on them to keep me in clover well into my retirement, long after everything has sagged. My mom is convinced I'm an escort or worse, but I'm not," she continued defensively, looking at Rachel.
"You got my vote, babe," Rachel took a chance and pecked her on the cheek.
"It's private and discreet, strictly by referral, and online only," she said evenly, looking Rachel in the eye.
"Maybe you can show me sometime," Rachel urged. She was curious about this girl she was starting to fall for.
"Live shows are extra," she put her hand on Rachel's thigh squeezing.
"You know, you never did show me where your cabin was," Rachel said, hoping to make the most of the opportunity.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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