Post by syrinx on Jan 18, 2008 12:27:09 GMT -5
Minoa
PG-13
Summary: It is nine hours by ship from Piraeus to Chania. For Ashleigh it's significantly longer.
A/N: Phoenix wanted an Ashleigh/Brad fiction removed from the Gravity Series, and she also wanted a big boat. I have provided the big boat. One I've actually been on, in fact. Enjoy the madness.
x-posted to taking_flight_, Veredus, and syrinx-fic
July 24, 2007
8:23pm
F/B Lato
Piraeus, Greece
96 F
It was a habit Ashleigh had fallen into. On the top of each entry she would write the date, time and place. For this particular entry she included the temperature only because it was so damn hot.
Normally she didn’t keep a diary; in fact, she’d stopped the process when she was eleven. She didn’t have the patience to take stock of her life each day, and the act of writing everything down only made her life seem boring when she knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. She’d helped train a Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winner, after all. She’d won the Breeders’ Cup Classic at fifteen. She was hardly a boring person. Writing it all down made it seem that way. So she’d stopped.
After a minute of staring at the blank page, Ashleigh wrote beneath the temperature:
“Piraeus smells like dead fish and body odor.”
The thing of it was it really did. Slapping the journal closed, Ashleigh capped her pen and tossed both of them back in the bag by her feet. Reclining in the plastic deck chair, Ashleigh propped her feet up and looked out at the horizon. The sun was sinking into the water, exploding in a rusty red that brightened up the few slivers of clouds that hung in the sky. The water was darkening, turning all purple and navy blue. It would have been gorgeous if not for the harbor, with its dilapidated buildings, rows of ocean liners, lines of idling cars, beleaguered crowds, and piles of trash that looked like a permanent display of filth. Off in the distance, a single minaret stood out from the less than desirable surroundings. Ashleigh decided to focus on that as the sun went down.
Suddenly the F/B Lato trumpeted, her bellowing call promising eminent departure. Ashleigh couldn’t have been more grateful. The last of the stragglers were boarding, crawling up through the ship and finding their rooms or claiming spots to camp out. For an ocean liner the F/B Lato was being used as a glorified ferry. Granted, this ferry trip would take nine hours between Piraeus and Chania, so the bigger the better. Ashleigh had never been on anything remotely like it, but then that had been part of the point to the whole trip.
She remembered distinctly back to March, when her mother sat her down at dinner and told her the plan for Ashleigh’s graduation present. She had been less than enthused.
“We just want to make sure you get out and experience some things before you settle into this,” her mother had said.
“This is a very difficult lifestyle, Ashleigh,” her father had added. “You may have grown up with it, you may love it, but it will control everything in your life. You will have no time for anything else, and we want to make sure you’re happy with that decision.”
“I am happy,” Ashleigh had argued. “I’ve made my decision.”
Her parents had stood firm. In April her mother presented to Ashleigh an itinerary, in which Ashleigh would fly out of Lexington the day after the University of Kentucky’s commencement. She would fly to London, and then she would crisscross Europe in a fashion that seemed suspiciously similar to the project itinerary she’d gotten an excellent mark on in the eighth grade.
On graduation day her parents gave her a travel journal and upgraded her cellular phone plan to international in case of an emergency, although Ashleigh had been getting calls from her mother every other day just to “check in”. She said goodbye to Wonder, Goddess and Pride, cried into Mike’s shirt for a good thirty minutes, and was packed onto a plane destined for Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. Since then she’d written thirty-two postcards. She didn’t know how much she’d spent on stamps.
A second trumpet blasted through the air, and Ashleigh craned her neck around to look at the emptying space behind the ship. The giant ramp to the hold was folding up, closing and locking as crew members scurried around the dock in preparation. A third horn and Ashleigh could hear the engines roar to life. The F/B Lato began to slowly churn away from land, heading out to cross the Mediterranean. A breeze picked up as the ship exited the harbor, increasing speed and rocking over the waves. The last bit of sun slanted over the slowly receding mountains and washed over the deck, making Ashleigh squint her eyes in order to see. Eventually she gave up and closed them completely, enjoying the last bit of light before their night journey.
Then the last thing she could have expected happened.
“Fucking hell.”
Part Two
Two
July 24, 2007
9:02pm
F/B Lato
95 F
He was backlit by the sun, but that didn’t stop Ashleigh from immediately knowing who he was. Why he was standing there was the more pressing issue, since she could already feel her jaw going slack in surprise. He was standing as though he’d just paused in shock, a rolling suitcase behind him and a Mythos in his hand. He didn’t even look that out of place; jeans, t-shirt and a dusty pair of sneakers put him solidly with everyone else on board.
“This would be the perfect coincidence,” Brad muttered sarcastically to himself, lifting the green bottle to his mouth and taking a generous swig. Ashleigh continued to stare, going through all the reasons Brad Townsend would be on this ship, going to the same destination she was headed for. There’d been no news from home that things were amiss at Townsend Acres, although clearly things must be very off for Brad to be standing directly in front of her.
With a sigh, he pulled the suitcase up to the empty chair next to her and settled himself on the hard plastic seat. Ashleigh looked at him incredulously, wondering just what he thought he was doing. She was still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that he was here (an increasingly absurd notion) to have to put up with his proximity.
“What are you doing?” she managed to ask, watching him put the beer on the table between them and get comfortable.
“Waiting for the nine hours to be up,” Brad answered. “If I’m spending the night on the deck, I might as well find something to keep me annoyed enough to stay awake.”
“Sorry to break this news to you, but I have a room,” Ashleigh replied, wondering just why Brad was spending the night on the deck. In fact, nothing was adding up. Brad here, in jeans and dusty shoes, drinking beer on the deck of a cruise ship for nine hours…no, nothing was making sense.
“Ah, pity,” Brad muttered, picking up the beer again. Ashleigh felt like shrieking at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in her most manageable voice.
“I’m going to Crete, Griffen,” he said to his bottle.
“That didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
“Well, it fulfilled all of the requirements on my end,” he said, watching the sun wink out on the horizon. It was dark, with nothing but the sound of the ship’s engine, the wind, and the occasional snippet of conversation from people walking past.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her chest tightening with restrained anger. “You’re supposed to be in Kentucky and you’re supposed to be getting married in a week. Where is Lavinia?”
“Shopping, getting her nails done, who the hell knows,” Brad said, running both of his hands through his hair. “You want to get a couple of beers?”
“Are you deluded?” Ashleigh asked, watching him finish off the last of his Mythos.
“Right,” he said, pointing to the bottled water tucked next to her bag. “You’re a water girl. Figures.”
Ashleigh narrowed her eyes at him. “Can we back up about fifteen minutes and go over why you’re here again?”
He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a snarl of a contemptuous smile. “And you’re here why?”
“I’m on vacation!” Ashleigh cried, catching herself from nearly shouting at him. “It’s called traveling across Europe; backpacking if you will, only with a full suitcase. I assume you’ve heard of this phenomenon.”
“Yes,” he answered, looking at her across the small table. “I’m well aware of the phenomenon of travel,” he said, laughing. “You don’t travel, Ashleigh.”
“I do,” Ashleigh countered. “Obviously I am.”
“Right. Like you could pry yourself away from Wonder and Whitebrook Farm long enough to go on your backpacking adventure,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
Ashleigh felt a huff rise up her throat and pass through her lips, making her guilty as charged before she could stop herself. Brad smiled in victory, and she turned away from him, staring out into the darkening night and the glowing indigo horizon. She could hear the waves crashing along the sides of the ship, the salt air breezing down the deck and tangling in her ponytail. It was comfortable in the heat, but for Ashleigh she couldn’t sit in that spot any longer.
“Okay,” she said, reaching down to her feet and pulling her bag up, slipping the strap over her head and standing. “I don’t exactly care why you’re here, Brad, but for your information I’m going to proceed to pretend that you aren’t here for the rest of the trip.”
He looked up at her with a bemused smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be an uppity bitch just for my benefit.”
Ashleigh let out a disbelieving laugh at his response, repressed the need to scream her frustration up at the increasingly clear sky, and silently shook her head. Silently she turned on her heel and walked off down the deck, stalking all the way to the hull of the ship, far out of Brad’s sight, and stopped.
Leaning against the railing of the deck next to the whipping blue and white Greek flag, Ashleigh looked out at the port, only pinpricks of light in the distance, and wondered why fate hated her. Here she was on a trip she hadn’t wanted to be on, and now she was stuck on a boat and going to an island with a man she couldn’t stand to be around. If Kentucky wasn’t large enough for them both, being on the same ship for a full nine hours would feel like being locked in the same room. There was no way she could avoid him entirely unless she went in to her closet of a room.
Looking at her watch, there was no way she could head to her room already. She still hadn’t had anything to eat since noon, and after depositing her suitcase in that miniscule space she knew she’d be spending more time on the decks and ample entertainment complexes on the ship than in her room.
Resting her forearms on the railing, Ashleigh brushed a few windblown strands of hair away from her face and wondered just what the hell was going on. She was in Greece, traveling across the Mediterranean en route to Crete. Random occurrences like running into Brad didn’t happen like this.
Ashleigh pushed herself off the railing and opened her bag. She dug around until she found her cell phone and walked inside, flipping the phone open and finding Samantha’s number in her contact list. Checking her watch, Ashleigh tried to remember how many time zones were in between Greece and Kentucky. It was early afternoon in Lexington, she guessed, and pressed the call button.
“Ash?” Samantha asked on the second ring. “Oh my gosh, where are you?”
“Hey, Sammy,” Ashleigh smiled into the phone, walking down the hallway and scouting out a quiet place to sit. She found a spot in a commons area and folded herself into a plush chair in front of an empty escalator. “I’m actually sitting on a ship right now. It’s right in the middle of the Mediterranean.”
“That sounds so wonderful,” Samantha sighed, her voice cutting out briefly. Ashleigh pulled the phone away from her ear, wondering how long its reception could hold out.
“I think I have to be fast here,” Ashleigh said apologetically, putting the phone back to her ear. “The trip has been good so far, but I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” Samantha said.
“Is there anything going on with Townsend Acres?” Ashleigh asked, deciding not to broadcast that Brad was on the ship with her. If Brad was there without anyone’s knowledge it wasn’t her place to spread the word.
“Not to my knowledge,” Samantha said, her voice cracking up and fading. “Mr. Townsend is still in England, and I think Brad went to go visit recently because he hasn’t been around…”
Samantha’s voice slipped away and a digital beep signaled that there was no reception. Ashleigh winced and looked down at the phone, then she slapped it closed and threw it into her bag.
Leaning into the uncomfortable chair in the interior of the ship, Ashleigh resolved herself to being utterly alone on a vast sea with only strangers and one man she hated unequivocally. She didn’t know why Brad was on the F/B Lato, and honestly she didn’t even care that much. Sitting up, Ashleigh resolved to avoid him for the rest of the night, which couldn’t be that hard. After all, the Lato was a large ship and she could rove across it happily without ever running into him.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t be very lucky, but Ashleigh got up anyway, eager to find the cafeteria. The F/B Lato churned steadily on beneath her as she headed for the escalators and down.
Three
July 24, 2007
9:31pm
F/B Lato
93 F
“Fate hates me.”
Ashleigh cradled the journal in her lap, pen in her right hand and a tiropita in her left. Putting the pen down, she folded the filmy napkin away from the triangular pastry and experimentally bit into it. Chewing thoughtfully, Ashleigh decided it passed as edible – possibly passed as better than that – and took another bite.
Picking up the pen again, she began to write, her thoughts wandering over the past hour of her life and how unexpected and unreasonable it all was. Every so often she would pause to nibble at her tiropita, or glance suspiciously up and down the crowded deck, then go back to her writing, moving the pen furiously over the paper.
Ironically it was the first time she had felt a true urge to write since the flight out to London, when she’d used the book to rail against her parents for sending her on this trip to begin with. She’d written until her hand cramped up, and then written more once she’d given her fingers enough rest to be functional again. This time she didn’t write quite as much to cripple herself, but by the time she found herself running out of words she stopped, tiropita eaten and pen half out of ink, and read over the entry that spanned several pages.
All Ashleigh saw was nonsensical ranting, and after a few moments of reading she quickly capped the pen, slammed the journal closed, and tossed it into her bag. She was calm now. At the very most she possibly felt a pang of regret over having left Brad on the deck by himself. It was an insane feeling to have considering their circumstances and their history, but Ashleigh liked to assume she was the better person in their never ending struggle. Acting as anything else only gave Brad more fuel to add to the raging fire.
In any case, Ashleigh shoved the away any urge to find and apologize to Brad. Never once had she found the need, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
Growing bored, Ashleigh stood up and was on the move again, wandering down the deck of the ship and staring silently out at the dark sea. It was pitch black; an endless expanse of water. Stopping by the railing, Ashleigh leaned over it and peered down at the waves breaking against the sides of the Lato, wondering where they were on the Mediterranean.
Staring blankly down, Ashleigh felt the salty wind tangle in her hair and brush quickly across her skin. She licked her lips without thinking, tasting the ocean on her tongue. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would have been like if Mike could have come along on her forced vacation. In hindsight, she wished she would have asked him to come with her. Maybe then, with a person she cared for by her side, she would appreciate her circumstances.
As it was, Ashleigh stared at the dark water as it rolled under the ship and crashed against its hull, drowning out all noise in the thunderous waves.
She almost didn’t hear him when he spoke.
“You look like someone who’s in desperate need of distraction,” he said.
Ashleigh didn’t bother to look up. “Too bad you can’t provide.”
He chuckled, folding his arms over the railing, his elbow brushing hers. She frowned.
After a minute of listening to the ship’s engine drone under the wind and the water, Brad shook his head. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
Ashleigh glanced over at him, frown still firmly in place. “I’m not convinced,” she said. “Your company isn’t exactly something I relish.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Brad said, shrugging. Ashleigh gave him a look and sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned away.
“The thing is,” Brad continued, leaning toward her, “I’m fucking bored, Ash.”
“I’m supposed to care about that?” Ashleigh asked him incredulously.
“No,” he said, “but you’re a bleeding heart, Ashleigh. Feel my plight.”
“I’m not feeling your anything,” Ashleigh snapped at him. He grinned over at her, then turned around, leaning his back against the railing and giving her a curious appraisal, like he was suddenly having a hard time picturing her there. Ashleigh was having a hard time picturing it herself.
“Ashleigh,” he said in a slow, annoying way. He was trying to a new route; using the tone of voice Mike used when he was attempting a cute, nagging approach toward getting his way.
“Brad,” she muttered, then looked over at him. He was smiling at her, all puppy dog eyes, which disturbed her a little to see that look on Brad’s face.
Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth, Ashleigh relented. He was right; she did need distraction. At least until she felt like going to sleep, at any rate. “If I give you an hour will you stop coming by to bother me?”
“Two hours and you’ve got a deal,” he bargained. She couldn’t quite believe his gall, but then reminded herself. This was Brad. He had all the nerve in the world.
Checking her watch, Ashleigh shrugged. “Whatever. Just promise me that if I fall asleep on the deck due to boredom you’ll take me to my room. It’s 326.”
“You’ve got my word,” he said.
“As if that means anything,” she grumbled. He grinned, and rubbed his hands together.
“Okay, Griffen. First order of business?”
“What would that be?” she asked, completely unenthused.
“Retsina,” he replied. “Lots of it.”
“Don’t push it, Brad. Can’t we go through the next two hours without you getting drunk?” She wrinkled her nose, remembering his bottles of Mythos. “More drunk?”
“Have you been doing something in the past hour I should know about?” he asked, pushing away from the railing and gathering his things. She gave him a look. He smiled back.
“Come on, Ash,” he said, heading inside. “We don’t have all night here.”
“We really don’t,” Ashleigh agreed, lagging behind him. Brad headed down to the bar, more enthusiastic than she’d ever seen him, and she checked her watch, wondering how fast she could make the next two hours go. The minute hand clicked over to 9:53, and Ashleigh recorded the time silently. Two hours. How hard could it be?
She didn’t need to know the answer.
tbc...
PG-13
Summary: It is nine hours by ship from Piraeus to Chania. For Ashleigh it's significantly longer.
A/N: Phoenix wanted an Ashleigh/Brad fiction removed from the Gravity Series, and she also wanted a big boat. I have provided the big boat. One I've actually been on, in fact. Enjoy the madness.
x-posted to taking_flight_, Veredus, and syrinx-fic
July 24, 2007
8:23pm
F/B Lato
Piraeus, Greece
96 F
It was a habit Ashleigh had fallen into. On the top of each entry she would write the date, time and place. For this particular entry she included the temperature only because it was so damn hot.
Normally she didn’t keep a diary; in fact, she’d stopped the process when she was eleven. She didn’t have the patience to take stock of her life each day, and the act of writing everything down only made her life seem boring when she knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. She’d helped train a Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winner, after all. She’d won the Breeders’ Cup Classic at fifteen. She was hardly a boring person. Writing it all down made it seem that way. So she’d stopped.
After a minute of staring at the blank page, Ashleigh wrote beneath the temperature:
“Piraeus smells like dead fish and body odor.”
The thing of it was it really did. Slapping the journal closed, Ashleigh capped her pen and tossed both of them back in the bag by her feet. Reclining in the plastic deck chair, Ashleigh propped her feet up and looked out at the horizon. The sun was sinking into the water, exploding in a rusty red that brightened up the few slivers of clouds that hung in the sky. The water was darkening, turning all purple and navy blue. It would have been gorgeous if not for the harbor, with its dilapidated buildings, rows of ocean liners, lines of idling cars, beleaguered crowds, and piles of trash that looked like a permanent display of filth. Off in the distance, a single minaret stood out from the less than desirable surroundings. Ashleigh decided to focus on that as the sun went down.
Suddenly the F/B Lato trumpeted, her bellowing call promising eminent departure. Ashleigh couldn’t have been more grateful. The last of the stragglers were boarding, crawling up through the ship and finding their rooms or claiming spots to camp out. For an ocean liner the F/B Lato was being used as a glorified ferry. Granted, this ferry trip would take nine hours between Piraeus and Chania, so the bigger the better. Ashleigh had never been on anything remotely like it, but then that had been part of the point to the whole trip.
She remembered distinctly back to March, when her mother sat her down at dinner and told her the plan for Ashleigh’s graduation present. She had been less than enthused.
“We just want to make sure you get out and experience some things before you settle into this,” her mother had said.
“This is a very difficult lifestyle, Ashleigh,” her father had added. “You may have grown up with it, you may love it, but it will control everything in your life. You will have no time for anything else, and we want to make sure you’re happy with that decision.”
“I am happy,” Ashleigh had argued. “I’ve made my decision.”
Her parents had stood firm. In April her mother presented to Ashleigh an itinerary, in which Ashleigh would fly out of Lexington the day after the University of Kentucky’s commencement. She would fly to London, and then she would crisscross Europe in a fashion that seemed suspiciously similar to the project itinerary she’d gotten an excellent mark on in the eighth grade.
On graduation day her parents gave her a travel journal and upgraded her cellular phone plan to international in case of an emergency, although Ashleigh had been getting calls from her mother every other day just to “check in”. She said goodbye to Wonder, Goddess and Pride, cried into Mike’s shirt for a good thirty minutes, and was packed onto a plane destined for Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. Since then she’d written thirty-two postcards. She didn’t know how much she’d spent on stamps.
A second trumpet blasted through the air, and Ashleigh craned her neck around to look at the emptying space behind the ship. The giant ramp to the hold was folding up, closing and locking as crew members scurried around the dock in preparation. A third horn and Ashleigh could hear the engines roar to life. The F/B Lato began to slowly churn away from land, heading out to cross the Mediterranean. A breeze picked up as the ship exited the harbor, increasing speed and rocking over the waves. The last bit of sun slanted over the slowly receding mountains and washed over the deck, making Ashleigh squint her eyes in order to see. Eventually she gave up and closed them completely, enjoying the last bit of light before their night journey.
Then the last thing she could have expected happened.
“Fucking hell.”
Part Two
Two
July 24, 2007
9:02pm
F/B Lato
95 F
He was backlit by the sun, but that didn’t stop Ashleigh from immediately knowing who he was. Why he was standing there was the more pressing issue, since she could already feel her jaw going slack in surprise. He was standing as though he’d just paused in shock, a rolling suitcase behind him and a Mythos in his hand. He didn’t even look that out of place; jeans, t-shirt and a dusty pair of sneakers put him solidly with everyone else on board.
“This would be the perfect coincidence,” Brad muttered sarcastically to himself, lifting the green bottle to his mouth and taking a generous swig. Ashleigh continued to stare, going through all the reasons Brad Townsend would be on this ship, going to the same destination she was headed for. There’d been no news from home that things were amiss at Townsend Acres, although clearly things must be very off for Brad to be standing directly in front of her.
With a sigh, he pulled the suitcase up to the empty chair next to her and settled himself on the hard plastic seat. Ashleigh looked at him incredulously, wondering just what he thought he was doing. She was still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that he was here (an increasingly absurd notion) to have to put up with his proximity.
“What are you doing?” she managed to ask, watching him put the beer on the table between them and get comfortable.
“Waiting for the nine hours to be up,” Brad answered. “If I’m spending the night on the deck, I might as well find something to keep me annoyed enough to stay awake.”
“Sorry to break this news to you, but I have a room,” Ashleigh replied, wondering just why Brad was spending the night on the deck. In fact, nothing was adding up. Brad here, in jeans and dusty shoes, drinking beer on the deck of a cruise ship for nine hours…no, nothing was making sense.
“Ah, pity,” Brad muttered, picking up the beer again. Ashleigh felt like shrieking at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in her most manageable voice.
“I’m going to Crete, Griffen,” he said to his bottle.
“That didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
“Well, it fulfilled all of the requirements on my end,” he said, watching the sun wink out on the horizon. It was dark, with nothing but the sound of the ship’s engine, the wind, and the occasional snippet of conversation from people walking past.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her chest tightening with restrained anger. “You’re supposed to be in Kentucky and you’re supposed to be getting married in a week. Where is Lavinia?”
“Shopping, getting her nails done, who the hell knows,” Brad said, running both of his hands through his hair. “You want to get a couple of beers?”
“Are you deluded?” Ashleigh asked, watching him finish off the last of his Mythos.
“Right,” he said, pointing to the bottled water tucked next to her bag. “You’re a water girl. Figures.”
Ashleigh narrowed her eyes at him. “Can we back up about fifteen minutes and go over why you’re here again?”
He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a snarl of a contemptuous smile. “And you’re here why?”
“I’m on vacation!” Ashleigh cried, catching herself from nearly shouting at him. “It’s called traveling across Europe; backpacking if you will, only with a full suitcase. I assume you’ve heard of this phenomenon.”
“Yes,” he answered, looking at her across the small table. “I’m well aware of the phenomenon of travel,” he said, laughing. “You don’t travel, Ashleigh.”
“I do,” Ashleigh countered. “Obviously I am.”
“Right. Like you could pry yourself away from Wonder and Whitebrook Farm long enough to go on your backpacking adventure,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
Ashleigh felt a huff rise up her throat and pass through her lips, making her guilty as charged before she could stop herself. Brad smiled in victory, and she turned away from him, staring out into the darkening night and the glowing indigo horizon. She could hear the waves crashing along the sides of the ship, the salt air breezing down the deck and tangling in her ponytail. It was comfortable in the heat, but for Ashleigh she couldn’t sit in that spot any longer.
“Okay,” she said, reaching down to her feet and pulling her bag up, slipping the strap over her head and standing. “I don’t exactly care why you’re here, Brad, but for your information I’m going to proceed to pretend that you aren’t here for the rest of the trip.”
He looked up at her with a bemused smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be an uppity bitch just for my benefit.”
Ashleigh let out a disbelieving laugh at his response, repressed the need to scream her frustration up at the increasingly clear sky, and silently shook her head. Silently she turned on her heel and walked off down the deck, stalking all the way to the hull of the ship, far out of Brad’s sight, and stopped.
Leaning against the railing of the deck next to the whipping blue and white Greek flag, Ashleigh looked out at the port, only pinpricks of light in the distance, and wondered why fate hated her. Here she was on a trip she hadn’t wanted to be on, and now she was stuck on a boat and going to an island with a man she couldn’t stand to be around. If Kentucky wasn’t large enough for them both, being on the same ship for a full nine hours would feel like being locked in the same room. There was no way she could avoid him entirely unless she went in to her closet of a room.
Looking at her watch, there was no way she could head to her room already. She still hadn’t had anything to eat since noon, and after depositing her suitcase in that miniscule space she knew she’d be spending more time on the decks and ample entertainment complexes on the ship than in her room.
Resting her forearms on the railing, Ashleigh brushed a few windblown strands of hair away from her face and wondered just what the hell was going on. She was in Greece, traveling across the Mediterranean en route to Crete. Random occurrences like running into Brad didn’t happen like this.
Ashleigh pushed herself off the railing and opened her bag. She dug around until she found her cell phone and walked inside, flipping the phone open and finding Samantha’s number in her contact list. Checking her watch, Ashleigh tried to remember how many time zones were in between Greece and Kentucky. It was early afternoon in Lexington, she guessed, and pressed the call button.
“Ash?” Samantha asked on the second ring. “Oh my gosh, where are you?”
“Hey, Sammy,” Ashleigh smiled into the phone, walking down the hallway and scouting out a quiet place to sit. She found a spot in a commons area and folded herself into a plush chair in front of an empty escalator. “I’m actually sitting on a ship right now. It’s right in the middle of the Mediterranean.”
“That sounds so wonderful,” Samantha sighed, her voice cutting out briefly. Ashleigh pulled the phone away from her ear, wondering how long its reception could hold out.
“I think I have to be fast here,” Ashleigh said apologetically, putting the phone back to her ear. “The trip has been good so far, but I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” Samantha said.
“Is there anything going on with Townsend Acres?” Ashleigh asked, deciding not to broadcast that Brad was on the ship with her. If Brad was there without anyone’s knowledge it wasn’t her place to spread the word.
“Not to my knowledge,” Samantha said, her voice cracking up and fading. “Mr. Townsend is still in England, and I think Brad went to go visit recently because he hasn’t been around…”
Samantha’s voice slipped away and a digital beep signaled that there was no reception. Ashleigh winced and looked down at the phone, then she slapped it closed and threw it into her bag.
Leaning into the uncomfortable chair in the interior of the ship, Ashleigh resolved herself to being utterly alone on a vast sea with only strangers and one man she hated unequivocally. She didn’t know why Brad was on the F/B Lato, and honestly she didn’t even care that much. Sitting up, Ashleigh resolved to avoid him for the rest of the night, which couldn’t be that hard. After all, the Lato was a large ship and she could rove across it happily without ever running into him.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t be very lucky, but Ashleigh got up anyway, eager to find the cafeteria. The F/B Lato churned steadily on beneath her as she headed for the escalators and down.
Three
July 24, 2007
9:31pm
F/B Lato
93 F
“Fate hates me.”
Ashleigh cradled the journal in her lap, pen in her right hand and a tiropita in her left. Putting the pen down, she folded the filmy napkin away from the triangular pastry and experimentally bit into it. Chewing thoughtfully, Ashleigh decided it passed as edible – possibly passed as better than that – and took another bite.
Picking up the pen again, she began to write, her thoughts wandering over the past hour of her life and how unexpected and unreasonable it all was. Every so often she would pause to nibble at her tiropita, or glance suspiciously up and down the crowded deck, then go back to her writing, moving the pen furiously over the paper.
Ironically it was the first time she had felt a true urge to write since the flight out to London, when she’d used the book to rail against her parents for sending her on this trip to begin with. She’d written until her hand cramped up, and then written more once she’d given her fingers enough rest to be functional again. This time she didn’t write quite as much to cripple herself, but by the time she found herself running out of words she stopped, tiropita eaten and pen half out of ink, and read over the entry that spanned several pages.
All Ashleigh saw was nonsensical ranting, and after a few moments of reading she quickly capped the pen, slammed the journal closed, and tossed it into her bag. She was calm now. At the very most she possibly felt a pang of regret over having left Brad on the deck by himself. It was an insane feeling to have considering their circumstances and their history, but Ashleigh liked to assume she was the better person in their never ending struggle. Acting as anything else only gave Brad more fuel to add to the raging fire.
In any case, Ashleigh shoved the away any urge to find and apologize to Brad. Never once had she found the need, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
Growing bored, Ashleigh stood up and was on the move again, wandering down the deck of the ship and staring silently out at the dark sea. It was pitch black; an endless expanse of water. Stopping by the railing, Ashleigh leaned over it and peered down at the waves breaking against the sides of the Lato, wondering where they were on the Mediterranean.
Staring blankly down, Ashleigh felt the salty wind tangle in her hair and brush quickly across her skin. She licked her lips without thinking, tasting the ocean on her tongue. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would have been like if Mike could have come along on her forced vacation. In hindsight, she wished she would have asked him to come with her. Maybe then, with a person she cared for by her side, she would appreciate her circumstances.
As it was, Ashleigh stared at the dark water as it rolled under the ship and crashed against its hull, drowning out all noise in the thunderous waves.
She almost didn’t hear him when he spoke.
“You look like someone who’s in desperate need of distraction,” he said.
Ashleigh didn’t bother to look up. “Too bad you can’t provide.”
He chuckled, folding his arms over the railing, his elbow brushing hers. She frowned.
After a minute of listening to the ship’s engine drone under the wind and the water, Brad shook his head. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
Ashleigh glanced over at him, frown still firmly in place. “I’m not convinced,” she said. “Your company isn’t exactly something I relish.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Brad said, shrugging. Ashleigh gave him a look and sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned away.
“The thing is,” Brad continued, leaning toward her, “I’m fucking bored, Ash.”
“I’m supposed to care about that?” Ashleigh asked him incredulously.
“No,” he said, “but you’re a bleeding heart, Ashleigh. Feel my plight.”
“I’m not feeling your anything,” Ashleigh snapped at him. He grinned over at her, then turned around, leaning his back against the railing and giving her a curious appraisal, like he was suddenly having a hard time picturing her there. Ashleigh was having a hard time picturing it herself.
“Ashleigh,” he said in a slow, annoying way. He was trying to a new route; using the tone of voice Mike used when he was attempting a cute, nagging approach toward getting his way.
“Brad,” she muttered, then looked over at him. He was smiling at her, all puppy dog eyes, which disturbed her a little to see that look on Brad’s face.
Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth, Ashleigh relented. He was right; she did need distraction. At least until she felt like going to sleep, at any rate. “If I give you an hour will you stop coming by to bother me?”
“Two hours and you’ve got a deal,” he bargained. She couldn’t quite believe his gall, but then reminded herself. This was Brad. He had all the nerve in the world.
Checking her watch, Ashleigh shrugged. “Whatever. Just promise me that if I fall asleep on the deck due to boredom you’ll take me to my room. It’s 326.”
“You’ve got my word,” he said.
“As if that means anything,” she grumbled. He grinned, and rubbed his hands together.
“Okay, Griffen. First order of business?”
“What would that be?” she asked, completely unenthused.
“Retsina,” he replied. “Lots of it.”
“Don’t push it, Brad. Can’t we go through the next two hours without you getting drunk?” She wrinkled her nose, remembering his bottles of Mythos. “More drunk?”
“Have you been doing something in the past hour I should know about?” he asked, pushing away from the railing and gathering his things. She gave him a look. He smiled back.
“Come on, Ash,” he said, heading inside. “We don’t have all night here.”
“We really don’t,” Ashleigh agreed, lagging behind him. Brad headed down to the bar, more enthusiastic than she’d ever seen him, and she checked her watch, wondering how fast she could make the next two hours go. The minute hand clicked over to 9:53, and Ashleigh recorded the time silently. Two hours. How hard could it be?
She didn’t need to know the answer.
tbc...
