Page 6 of Uncharted Desires

Three

After their last day at sea, West was down in one of the yacht’s plush lounges with Luke. The final dinner of the trip had gone well, and the entire crew was up on the deck dancing the night away.

The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a few lights casting shadows on the walls. West leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his whiskey, and watched as Luke rolled a joint. The sound of laughter and music drifted down the stairs, a muffled reminder of the party happening above.

“I think that went well,” Luke said, the joint now between his teeth.

“You know you’ll get arrested if you’re caught with that in Jakarta,” West reminded his idiot friend.

“It’s the last one.”

Sighing, West ran his hands through his hair. He was over Luke’s antics at this point. “Better be. I’m not bailing you out of an Indonesian prison.”

Luke looked unconcerned. “Like you couldn’t send them a wire transfer with some zeros and be done with it.”

West gave him a scathing glare over his whiskey glass. “Like you couldn’t either.”

Luke spread his long arms across the sofa, the picture of true indolence. “Since you’re done with Gia for good this time, do you care if I hit that?” he asked casually.

West couldn’t care less what Luke did with his ex-girlfriend.

“Do whatever you want, man.” He tipped back his drink. “But personally, I’d steer clear.” He didn’t mention that when he broke up with Gia, she’d torn his hotel room in Paris apart in a violent rage. He could certainly never go back to Le Meurice.

Luke grinned. “You know I like them crazy, and these models I brought on the yacht are too boring. Gia has something about her.”

There was that, West had to agree. She wasn’t like many of the other models: she was intelligent, conniving, and manipulative. She used her intelligence and her body to get what she wanted, and it worked for her.

“Yeah, she’s also expensive, so I hope you’re ready to put that trust fund to work.”

Luke took a long inhale of the joint and held his breath for a minute, contemplating West’s words, then he released a cloud of white swirling smoke around his head. “You going broke, Monroe? Couldn’t afford her tastes?”

West didn’t want to discuss his financial problems. His accountant had been his last call before they had sailed away. He had been offered an acting role in a movie, but he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted to do. He had to give the movie studio an answer within the week, and he’d needed a clear picture of his finances, especially if he didn’t take the job. Turned out he was hurting a lot worse than he’d realized, and something didn’t sit right with him about the figures his accountant had read off.

“No, but since I’m retiring I need to watch the bank account a little closer,” was all he would say.

At that moment Declan walked into the room, making a beeline straight to the bar and pouring himself a drink.

“Watch your bank account? Why would you do that?” he asked in what West felt was a rather pointed question.

“West is broke,” Luke said with the joint back between his teeth.

Declan swallowed his drink in one gulp and slammed the glass on the bar. “No shit? What are you buying, man? I know the numbers are down, but they’re not that bad.”

West gritted his teeth. Declan dealt with the label and his accountant to make sure they paid him. He knew exactly how much money was coming in, and it wasn’t a paltry amount. West had fronted the tour with his own money, and he hoped soon there would be money coming in from all the shows. “I’m not broke,” he ground out.

“But you’re going to have to take that acting gig?” Declan hedged.

“Don’t push it, Dec,” West growled. “Something strange is going on with my financials, and when I get home, I intend to have a team go through them. Something’s not right.”

Declan shrugged, poured himself another drink and looked over at Luke.

“You think your accountant is stealing from you?” Luke asked.

“It’s possible. I don’t think I’ve spent that much, not like you.” He gave Luke a look over his glass.

Luke laughed and put out his joint in the ashtray. “So, what are you going to do then? You’re retired, you’re single, you’re rich and good looking with no obligations. If you’re not going to act, what’s it going to be?”

West grimaced. That wasn’t entirely true. He was never free, he still had obligations and choices to make.