Below Deck Page 7

  She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. Once again, I’m struck by the fact that my mom is really thin and small, but more than that: she’s frail-looking. When did that happen? When did she start to look old? Weak? When did she start to look so damn breakable?

  “Go apologize to your sister,” she says. “Go fix this.”

  She’s not going to change.

  I like to believe anyone can change if you believe in them hard enough, if you give them enough chances, but my mother isn’t going to change. She’s got no interest in changing, in growing as a person. She’s got no interest in me or our relationship or fixing things between us.

  She’s selfish, and this is it.

  This is the end of the line for us.

  This is the part where I walk away from my childhood, where I walk away from the woman who raised me, where I leave the past behind.

  This is the part where I accept there are some things I can’t change and I move on.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom,” I tell her. “And I’m not going to apologize. I’m not going to fix this. Mandy got herself into this mess and she can get herself out. I know you don’t love me or want me around. I know I’m just the fuck-up to you, and you know what? That’s fine, but I don’t have any interest in being the person you blame for everything. Not anymore.”

  For a second, I think about telling her she can call me when she changes her mind, when she decides to change, when she pulls it all together, but I don’t.

  I whisper a soft “goodbye,” then I get in my car and I drive away, leaving my mother standing at the edge of the parking lot looking confused, looking weak, looking tired.

  But she also looks angry, and I know I made the right choice.

  I hope I made the right fucking choice.

  2

  Melody

  I’m not a pretty crier.

  Some girls can cry for hours and never mess up their makeup, never get frizzy hair, never get swollen eyes.

  That’s not me.

  When I cry, I cry ugly, so I pull into a rest area, turn off the car, and have my cry. I let out everything I’m feeling, everything I’m going through. I let out everything and I just cry and cry and cry.

  I’m not sure how long I’m supposed to cry for. I feel like I shouldn’t cry for a long time. Maybe twenty or thirty minutes is enough. That’s long enough to get the tears out, but not so long that my crying becomes ridiculous.

  After all, it’s their loss, right?

  It’s easy to say, but harder to live with. It’s difficult to be able to say, “Yep. I fucked up. I should have severed ties with these people a long time ago.” Part of me wonders why I didn’t. I know why, though. When I really, actually think about it, I know why. They’re my family and I can’t stand the idea of hurting them. Then again, I don’t think this really hurts them.

  In order to be hurt by someone, you have to care.

  They don’t.

  They never have.

  They care about themselves, and maybe they even care about one another, but they certainly don’t care about Fat Melody. They certainly don’t care about the elephant in the room.

  That happens to be me.

  I made my choice, though. When I return to Morris, I won’t have to deal with them again. My family lives far enough away that they would never stop by for a social visit. They’d plan anytime they wanted to see me. After today, I’m guessing that will be exactly zero times. Zero visits. Good riddance.

  Finally, I dry my tears, turn on my music, and set the GPS. It’s time to get back home. It’s a three hour drive from Centerville to Morris, and I only drove for twenty minutes before pulling over and giving in to my tears.

  It’s already getting dark, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a storm brewing. The last thing I want is to get caught in a storm on the mountain drive back, so it’s time to leave. I take off, singing along with my favorite bands. The Violet Burning and Brave Saint Saturn take my mind off the way my heart feels like it’s drowning. I can’t even really explain why this all hurts so much. I don’t want to.

  I just want to be done with it.

  When I get back to Morris, I can throw myself into work. I have a presentation on Monday morning to discuss ways we can improve the call center I work at. I’ve come up with several strategies to reduce call wait time and improve the productivity of our agents. While everyone works really hard at my office, I firmly believe in worker smarter: not harder. With a few minor changes, everyone can relax a little bit while experiencing improved performance.

  At least, that’s the goal.

  I’m lucky to have a job I enjoy and good colleagues at my office. When I first joined McQuaid Technologies, I wasn’t sure what to expect. You never know what that first job out of college is going to be like. Are you going to hate it or love it? Will your boss be garbage or incredible? Will you be terrible or will you flourish?

  Luckily, it was all positive for me.

  Within a year, I’d been promoted to team leader and two years after that became a division manager. Now I’m in charge of the entire call center and while my life is insanely busy, it’s a good kind of busy. I realize now that instead of worrying about my family and their treatment of me, I’m going to have a lot more time to focus on improving the office where I work.

  Snow starts falling suddenly, and I realize that I’m definitely going to be dealing with a storm on the trip. Luckily, I’m more than halfway home now. I’ve just passed the last exit for awhile. Although I’ll be driving in and out of the mountains the rest of the way home, I’ve made this trip so many times I feel comfortable continuing on.

  There will be another small town half an hour or so up the road. If the storm worsens, I can stop there. It won’t be a problem.

  I slow down and notice my GPS losing signal. That’s not uncommon. I keep a couple of maps in the glove compartment for instances like this. The windy mountain road I’m on right now tends to weave in and out of really rocky areas and that can affect the signal. It’s not a big deal. I just turn my headlights on, decrease my speed, and keep going.

  Everything is going to be fine.

  My phone has seven missed calls from my mother. Now that I’m not getting cell service, maybe the calls will stop. Maybe they’ll start going right to voicemail and she’ll realize I don’t want to talk to her. Part of me is surprised she cares enough to call, but then, she always was a little bit dramatic.

  Chances are I’m going to delete her voicemails without listening to them.

  I’m not a glutton for punishment any longer.

  Nope.

  No more.

  My days of dealing with her drama are over. Maybe there will come a time when we’re able to work through our differences. Maybe in a few years, we’ll get together and talk and things will be different. We’ll have both changed and grown and things won’t seem so bad, but I don’t think so.

  With a sigh, I try to stop thinking about my mother and instead focus on the road. The snow is coming down harder now and I’m starting to feel a little nervous. Maybe I will take the next exit and find a cheap motel to crash in for the night. Colorado weather is notoriously unpredictable and despite the fact that it’s April, snowstorms aren’t that unusual.

  Suddenly, the car slides a little and I realize the road is icing over. I slow down even more. I’m barely moving at all. The car is slowly crawling along the deserted road now. My wipers are going back and forth as quickly as they can, but it’s just not fast enough. I can barely see and I slow down even more.

  Panic mode hasn’t set in yet. This is good. The last thing I need to do right now is panic. I just need to think. There are mountains on either side of me and the two-lane road is totally empty. Luckily, there aren’t any nearby ravines or cliffs I could slide off into. Even if I swerve and hit something, I’ll be hitting the side of the mountain: not falling to my doom.

  Somehow, the thought isn’t as calming as I think it should be.


  Suddenly, I slam on my brakes much too hard and my car slips and slides and finally stops just in time to miss the boulder that’s fallen and blocked the road.

  I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a snowstorm and that’s when panic mode finally arrives.

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  The Saucy Devil

  Julianne doesn't want to get married.

  She certainly doesn't want to marry someone as terrible as Vince Fiddick. The other villagers might believe that his previous wives went missing, but Julianne knows the truth. Fearing for her life, she seeks refuge on the nearest pirate ship: The Dark Lovely.

  The pirate captain of the ship is tall, dark, and handsome.

  He's everything she's dreamed of in a man.

  He also has no tolerance for stowaways.

  When his life is threatened, however, Julianne has to make a choice.

  Will she play it safe?

  Or will she risk everything to save the Saucy Devil?

  You can buy SAUCY DEVIL on Amazon or turn the page to read a sample of this pirate novel!

  Prologue

  “I suppose she’ll do,” Vince Fiddick hissed the words. He looked at Julianne like she was a tolerable prize. He may have wanted Annabelle Portwood, but he would settle for her. Oh, Julianne knew she wasn’t the man’s first choice, but he would take what he could get.

  “Oh, how wonderful. Lovely news, isn’t it?” Julianne’s father rubbed his hands together, no doubt thinking of the betrothal fee Vince would be paying for the honor of wedding her.

  “No,” Julianne shook her head. She could not do it. She would not consent to marrying the man her parents had chosen for her. She would be his fourth wife, and Julianne knew she would fare no differently than they had.

  “Julianne,” Margaret Rye glared at her daughter. Julianne knew the look well. She had always been a disappointment to her parents. Why should things be any different now? Margaret and William Rye wanted their daughter to wed this man, who was nearly twice Julianne’s age, and they cared naught for their daughter’s opinion on the matter.

  Julianne looked at her mother blankly, waiting for her to say something else, but Margaret simply stared at her.

  “Don’t worry, darling,” Vince said, turning his attention to Julianne. “It’s natural to be nervous before your wedding, but you have nothing to be concerned about. You’ll see.” He shook hands with Julianne’s father, and then the two men retreated to William’s study to make the necessary arrangements for the ceremony.

  Julianne sat in silence with her mother while the men were gone. The sitting room felt stuffy and small. Suddenly, the entire room felt hot. Julianne felt as if her entire life was being decided for her and she had no say in the matter. She should be used to the feeling by now, but somehow, this was different.

  This was her entire life.

  This was her whole future.

  “I won’t marry him,” she said finally.

  “You don’t have a choice. You were raised for this, bred for this.” Margaret did not meet her daughter’s eyes. Julianne stared at her mother, openly gawking.

  “This is marriage,” she said. “Marriage should be to someone you love, to someone you can’t stand being apart from. It shouldn’t be some financial transaction.”

  “You know nothing of the world,” Margaret said, sipping a cup of tea. Her face was wrinkled and she had dark circles under her eyes. Julianne knew her mother was getting older, and restless. While Julianne suspected her mother was battling health issues, Margaret had too much pride to ever admit this to her daughter.

  “I know what the world should be,” Julianne told her mother, suddenly feeling brave. “And I know this is not what it should be.”

  “If only you were more like your brother,” Margaret shook her head. Julianne bit back a cough. Oh, if only her parents knew what her sweet brother was up to. They believed he had gone off to Ellensworth to work as an apprentice. They had no idea where he really was. They had no clue the things her brother did.

  Julianne knew better than to argue with her mother, though. Once Margaret set her mind to something, nothing would sway her opinion.

  After what felt like hours, her father and Vince Fiddick emerged from the study.

  “The wedding will take place on Saturday,” William announced to the women in the sitting room.

  “But that’s in two days!” Julianne jumped to her feet. “That’s-” She stopped. Her parents had made up their minds. There would be no talking them out of this. If she protested the marriage, they would simply lock her in her bedroom until the time of the ceremony, and she couldn’t have that.

  No, if Julianne wanted to be able to have any chance to escape, she would have to play her cards close to her chest. She would have to appear to be compliant. She would have to be clever because there was no doubt in her mind Vince Fiddick had murdered his other wives. She would not end up like them.

  “That’s not nearly enough time to plan a wedding,” she said instead. “Why, how can I have a proper gown made?”

  “Darling,” Vince Fiddick walked across the room to Julianne. He reached for her. Though it sickened her to have him touch her, she swallowed hard and allowed his clammy palms to squeeze her hands. “Believe me when I say you will have the most perfect wedding you can imagine.”

  “Thank you,” Julianne said. She had nothing else to say to the man. She hated him, despised him. He was not a man she would ever choose to associate with, let alone marry, but she had to be careful. If he suspected her of trying to escape before the ceremony, he would do anything in his power to keep her.

  Even if it meant killing her.

  “Such lovely news,” Margaret said, clasping her hands together. “And what a beautiful pairing.” She looked at Julianne and Vince, and for a brief second, Julianne thought her mother looked truly happy.

  Then she remembered that her mother didn’t have a soul. Any emotion she displayed, aside from anger, was a carefully calculated appearance designed for maximum manipulation.

  But during her childhood, Julianne hadn’t simply learned how to run a house or how to sew. No, Julianne had learned more than that. She had learned how her mother worked, how Margaret used emotional manipulation to get what she wanted.

  Julianne realized that if she wanted to escape this marriage, she would have to act quickly. Once she was alone in Vince’s house, she would never be allowed to leave. She would be locked away: another prize he had won.

  But there was something Julianne’s parents didn’t know, something Vince Fiddick didn’t know. There was something none of them knew, and it would be her saving grace.

  Julianne’s twin brother wasn’t in Ellensworth.

  He wasn’t an apprentice.

  He was a pirate, and The Dark Lovely was due to make port tomorrow.

  Julianne would have to act quickly, and she would have to catch her brother alone, but she knew one thing was for certain.

  She would not marry Vince Fiddick.

  Julianne Rye was going to get on the pirate ship with her brother, and she was going to sail away.

  She was going to escape.

  She was going to live.

  1

  Four weeks later

  Julianne knew she should be thankful to be alive, but as she stared at the hard tack in front of her again, she wondered if it might be better to starve. After all, how much more of this could she take? It had been weeks. When she wasn’t busy feeling seasick, she was being feeling hungry. Her stomach emitted a growl, reminding her that for today, it was better to suck it up and eat the food.

  “Thanks, Nelson,” she told her twin brother. She tried to shoot him a grateful look, but it came out pained instead. Nelson was the one who had sneaked her away the night before her wedding to Vince Fiddick was supposed to take place. He was the one who promised to save her. He was the one who kept her hidden and fed, despite the rocky waters and low
food supply.

  She didn’t know where the ship was headed or what was going to happen when it got there, but they both knew that this was Julianne’s only option if she ever wanted to be free.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry it’s not more.” Nelson shrugged regretfully. Julianne knew that he was cutting his own rations in half in order to keep her hidden and alive. Her twin was nothing if not resourceful. His determination mixed with cleverness was keeping her alive. She wouldn't forget it and she wouldn’t ask him for more. Anytime she was tempted to complain about how hungry or bored she was, she considered the position she had put her brother in.

  He was a pirate, after all. It wasn’t in his nature to be merciful, yet here he was, taking care of his sister when no one else would.

  “When’s the next port?” Julianne asked.

  “Tomorrow. Hold tight until then and I’ll try to get you off the ship for a little while, at least.” He looked nervous, and she knew he was thinking about what a risk it would be to let her out of the little storage room. Crates and barrels surrounded her day in and day out, but there was comfort in knowing this space was rarely used. Most of the pirates spent their days on the main deck when they could and in the crew’s quarters when they couldn’t. Even when they needed to access cargo, there were two other rooms they used more frequently than this one.

  Julianne had gotten good at being quiet in her tiny space on the ship, but if Nelson allowed her to leave, even for a little bit, she would risk being seen. What would happen to her brother if he was caught?

  She nodded and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, cold from weeks of staying in the stores of the ship. Nelson gripped her shoulder for a moment in a soft sign of compassion, then disappeared around the corner. Julianne heard the door close and the lock click in place. She allowed herself to crumple onto the floor with a sigh.