“A foot massage from Mr. Christo here.”
What?
Christopher glares at him.
Mr. Masters tips his head back and laughs hard. Spencer nearly slides off the chair in hysterics.
Okay, I’m lost . . . they must be on something.
High as a kite.
Nothing being said here is even remotely funny. I raise my eyebrows in disgust. “I’ll leave you to it.” I walk off and begin to offer the tray of sushi around again.
“Can I offer you some sushi, sir?” I ask.
“Sure.” The man smiles. I glance over to see Sebastian sitting down on a deck chair. He’s kicking his shoes off.
What the hell?
Christopher isn’t really going to massage his feet, is he?
My god, rich people are the worst.
Christopher kneels in front of him and picks up one of his feet.
“This is the best night of my fucking life.” Mr. Masters smiles. He holds the phone up as if filming it.
I keep offering the platter, and I glance over to see Christopher twisting Sebastian’s big toe so hard that he nearly breaks it off.
“Ahh,” he cries.
What the hell is he doing?
Christopher twists it again, the whole foot this time, as if he is trying to dislocate it or something.
“Ahh,” Sebastian screams.
The two other men are hysterical. Tears are running down their faces.
I march over. “Christopher. Can I speak to you for a moment, please?”
“Sure.” He stands. “I’ll just make you more comfortable, sir,” he tells him. He pulls the lever on the chair and tips it backward with force. Sebastian goes flying onto the floor.
I grab Christopher’s arm and drag him around the corner. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper angrily. “You’re going to get us all fired.”
“I don’t care.”
“There are five others who do.”
“Man overboard,” we hear Captain Mark call over the speaker. “All hands on deck.”
Bodie comes running up the side of the yacht with a ring and throws it into the sea.
A naked man jumps into the water to the cheers of his friends.
Why the hell would anyone have a bachelor party on a yacht? This is just ridiculous and completely out of control.
“We’ve got a problem,” Kimberly snaps from behind us.
“What now?” I whisper.
“Basil has gone missing.”
“What?” I frown.
“I can’t find Basil. He’s supposed to be on the bar upstairs, and he’s not there.”
“Well, where is he?” Christopher asks.
“I don’t know,” she stammers. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Did he fall overboard?” I gasp in horror.
“Who fucking knows. This is a disaster.” She storms off through the people.
Christopher and I walk out onto the deck to watch the dramatics as the two men are pulled from the sea. Their friends are all hanging over the rail and calling out and heckling them.
“Umm . . . I found Basil,” Christopher says.
“Where?”