There is added depth to the creamy white of a yacht. A vanilla glossiness, like you could dip your fingers into the walls, and they might ripple. The first few times Todd took her onto the one at the club, she would run her fingers along those walls. On the way to the bathroom. When getting him another beer. When she thought no one was looking. It felt warm, like it was alive beneath her touch. Then she got used to the glossiness and stopped touching the boat’s skin. Instead, she would look out across the water as she sashayed down the long hallways. All of them aboard bobbing gently on the Pacific, while tiny, dimpled lights of the land dwellers glistened far off in the distance, like fallen stars. The shine of her new life worn off so quickly.

The recurring nightmare didn’t start until she had been on one of these boats many times. They were on their way to a French island, and she could not even remember the last time she had dreamt, even something benign. But on their first night out on the water, while Todd held her tightly, his stubble against her scalp, the nightmare found her, clutched her, with the clasp of a childhood dream. And then it happened again the next night. The same theatre for the last two nights, and now she dreaded the feel of the silk sheets in the bedroom below deck. Feared laying in Todd’s warm, strong arms, stubble against her skin, feared dozing off to sleep. 

When she closed her eyes, the performance would begin, no way of knowing for how long she slept before it started. The yacht’s staff were the cast. They performed and almost acrobatic dance that started at the bow of the boat. Every crew member of the troupe held a mop to wipe the yacht’s glossy surface with. The mops’ tassels were made up of crisp hundred-dollar bills that the women in their stained, yellowed uniforms—and it was always women – scrubbed the shiny surface with, while singing in soft, almost teenaged girl voices, as a single chorus: “Better than Paris, Better than Paris, oh this, dear Juliet, is it better than Paris?”. She had no idea why they were singing about Paris, though Todd had taken her twice in the year since they’d started dating. 

Other than the girlish hymn, the only other sound came from the crackling of the bills as they were pushed against the hard surface. The sound grew more and more subdued, and morphed into more of a soppy squishing sound, due to soapy water that was dumped out of a metal bucket by one especially muscular woman. She made intense eye contact with Juliet as she poured, like she was doing her a favor. Meanwhile, the yacht gleamed, like it was showing off, in all its sudsy green-billed glory. The sharp pine smell wafted over to Juliet and made her want to gag. 

In the dream, Juliet would then lunge forward to try to stop them from destroying the bills, “no, no, no’s” under hear breath. But she could not stop them, always a second behind their fluid motions, grasping for the mop handles, her hands empty, empty, always empty. Until eventually they were all pulled apart, the bills, balled into lumps of green mush, in heaps on the deck of the gleaming yacht. And then they would start dumping the balls of cash overboard, one by one, using the mops or their bare hands. If Juliet got in the way, they would simply shove her aside, , until eventually she grew tired, until eventually all the money was gone.

The exhausted Juliet would hang over the side rail, gasping and trying not to vomit, the intense smell of cleaning chemicals stuck in her nostrils. As the black night sea spread out before her like black oil, she could not get herself to look back at shiny surface of the boat, glistening wet in the moonlight. Just as she began to feel the contents of her stomach about to make their way into sea of her dreams, she woke both times from the nightmare with the same thought: neither Todd, nor his father, nor anyone they associated with, ever actually used cash. She could not remember the last time she had seen a hundred-dollar bill while she was awake. 

*

“Hey, are you alright?” Todd cuts his grapefruit in half, something she suddenly realizes she has also never seen him do. Has the staff forgotten to cut it for him? A tinge of worry seeps into her. Todd’s father is visiting later and to him, this is a fireable offense. For some reason it feels like the dream is tied to the uncut grapefruit.

“I haven’t been sleeping very well.” Her eyes feel heavy. But if she rubs them, Todd will insist she get a massage or some sort of spa treatment below deck, and she is tired of being subdued by strangers’ hands. She pushes her hands into her lap.

Todd grins at her, a tiny bit of grapefruit flesh stuck right behind one of his perfectly white incisors. “Well, it’s not like the city sounds are keeping you awake out here.” He laughs out at the vast ocean that surrounds them, and she laughs too, and they forget that she is tired, and she feels relief. 

**

It was supposed to be a joke, going to the party of some rich guy. Her cousin Melanie had gotten the invite from some guy she had casually started seeing earlier in the week. They had planned on going to the swanky address on Sylvesty Street in the richest neighborhood in the city, to eat and drink as much as they could fit and leave. They held back giggles as the passed the stuffy doorman, who called them ma’am. And in the elevator too, where someone was there to push the button with a gleaming “PH” on it, which seemed ridiculous, since they had brought their own fingers. 

“Oh shit, J, take your ring off.” Melanie elbowed Juliet in the ribs, as they passed the tenth floor. The guy who pushed the button for them had shifted slightly to the right, as if trying to get a better look at the two of them.

“What, I can’t do that.” Peter, her fiancé, would not have approved of this. 

“Come on, it will make it a lot easier if they don’t think you’re about to get married. Come on, don’t ruin it.” Melanie scowled, and Juliet groaned, and slipped the ring inside the left cup of her white lace bra. 

The doors of the elevator opened and for the first time that night, they were both rendered speechless. The ceilings were higher than the exterior of the building had let on, so high, that neither of them could figure out a joke to reach them. Realizing you were poor, truly poor, compared to some other people was just not a joking matter. Those were possibly real Miros on the wall, an actual harpist was plucking away in the corner of the large room that sprawled out before them and a faint smell of food neither of them recognized, but somehow could still tell would taste exquisite, wafted towards them. The elevator doors dinged a second time, asking them kindly to get out. 

“Oh fuck.” Melanie whispered; eyebrow raised.

“Oh fuck.” Juliet echoed, and then again to herself, slowly, drawn out, dropped octave: “Oh fuuuuuuck.” Grins spread across both of their faces as the shock wore off. This would be fun.

“Hi!” Both she and Melanie startled when the man with glossy, but not too-glossy perfectly swept hair apparitioned before them. “Are you coming in, or would you like to permanently move into the elevator? Either way would you like a drink or something?”

A second passed, but then Juliet regained her confidence and countered: “Or something,” and strode into the room.

“Fantastic. We would like to avoid a line.” His smile wasn’t mean as he said any of this. Playful. His smile made Juliet wonder if anyone had ever been mean to this man in his entire life, and that he may not fully understand the concept. The word: Lamb, floated through her head, and then: Slaughter. He was so very handsome. She flashed him a wide gleaming grin and he smiled back without showing his teeth. Prey. 

*

Lounging together on the front of the yacht, Juliet is trying to fall asleep, but despite her exhaustion it isn’t working. Meanwhile Todd is dead asleep beside her on the plush matt meant for sunbathing. She has started to wonder if he is faking it at times. But then thinks he doesn’t have it in him.

Juliet lets her finger slide along her wrist. A gentle wind blows the tiny blonde hairs on her tan forearm.

Todd keeps asking her if she is going to get the tattoo lasered off. A tiny bat with sound waves, cartoonish in its simplicity. “You don’t have to worry about paying for it.” He said when he first noticed it. She’s heard this phrase so many times over the last year that she, in fact, has stopped worrying about paying for anything at all. When she’s with Todd, money is like sand at the beach. It’s all around her. She steps into it, in the form of expensive shoes and foreign places. But she never seems to be holding on to any of it herself, never seems to be holding it in her own hands. The jewels Todd gives her feel like grains stuck to her skin. 

When she looks over at Todd, tiny snores emanate from his perfect upper lip. The waves gently slosh against the boat. The crazy part is that she loves him. That she knew immediately the second she got off that elevator that she was in trouble. That she’ll stick by him even as she drowns. The question now is, will he let her? She runs her fingers over the tiny bat on her wrist again, and for a second, she feels that feeling of who she used to be, when it was Melanie and Juliet against the world, but then the feeling subsides. She sighs and adjusts the twelve-hundred hundred dollars sunglasses, leans back as the sun beats against her brow. With Todd’s stubble pushed against her neck, she finally, finally joins him in sleep. She is too tired to care if she dreams again.

**

Money can’t buy a good party. Or fun people. Or something. Either way both Melanie and Juliet were bored to tears within the first hour of being at the luxury soiree. Everyone there seemed like they had been paid to be there. Bored expressions, stilted conversation that somehow wasn’t getting more salacious even though the champagne flowed like a torrent through the apartment. And while Juliet was tired of the party and the people, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. After sauntering into the room and feeling like a lightning bolt hit her as she passed by him, Juliet had tried to play it cool. And then spent the rest of the time kicking herself for trying to play it cool. He had disappeared. After about forty-five minutes she had stopped trying to pretend and was openly looking around the room, but the never-mean man with the perfect hair was nowhere to be found.

“Can we go now?” Melanie had come up from behind her, her breath smelling of crab cakes, her springy dark curls brushing up against Juliet’s bare shoulder. 

“Isn’t the guy who invited you here?” Juliet craned her neck to look back at the hallway towards the kitchen. Again. “And please tell me that isn’t real crab.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “William is boring me so much that you literally could not pay me enough to stay.” Melanie glid her purse into view and opened it a crack, just enough to expose what looked to be a very expensive gilded paperweight shaped like a fist-sized vial. “So, I paid myself.” She whispered gleefully into Juliet’s ear.

“Mel!” But before Juliet could say anything else, there he was, finally, looking around as unabashedly as she was. Juliet prayed he wasn’t looking for the paperweight in Melanie’s purse. 

“Fine. Give me one second, then we can leave before you get caught.” Her eyes locked with his. Juliet started walking towards him, just as he started walking towards her, her engagement ring forgotten against her breast. Without a word he handed her his phone, and she put in her contact and texted herself before handing it back.

“Juliet.” He broke the silence, reading her name from his phone. “I’m Todd. I’m glad I didn’t miss you.”

“Oh, you’ll miss me the second I’m gone.” She grinned at him and let her fingertips graze his wrist, his phone still held up between them. At her touch, for a split second, it felt like a massive weight was pulling her downwards, towards the very expensive carpet. 

“You won’t be gone for long.” He replied quietly. And she knew he was right.

When Juliet got home that night, Peter noticed that she wasn’t wearing her ring. He did, indeed, not approve of this. The phone, after some investigation on his part, revealed a number that Juliet had added that night, belonging to a man named Todd. Peter knew this, because he kept a running log of Juliet’s phone contacts that he collected when she absentmindedly left it around the apartment. Peter did not approve of this Todd person, whoever he might be. Peter considered messaging this mystery man, but decided to bide his time instead. 

Two days later, when Juliet left her phone on the kitchen counter while she was in the bathroom, Peter decided to check in on her communications. And, when he scrolled through the messages, there it was. When Juliet came out of the bathroom, there was screaming, one broken coffee mug with a nightingale on it, more screaming, and eventually it ended with Peter storming down the stairs of their apartment complex. Juliet was then asked to move out and did so a week later. Todd feeling guilty, since he had caused the end of her engagement, and “since he had the space and was raised right”, told her she could stay with him. Juliet moved into the apartment on Sylvestry Street. Because, after all, they were in love, Juliet and Todd. Now they could be together.

Days, weeks, and it was remarkable that the new relationship feelings did not appear to be fading. They continued to act like rabbits that also enjoyed quietly sitting and reading in his vast apartment. They were so engrossed with just wanting to exist beside each other, that many small details were left out. They were aware that the other had friends, and they began meeting them here and there. Juliet did something in communications and Todd did something with lots of money in various accounts, and they both did these things during the day as most people did. They briefly met each other’s parents. Todd met her parents while they stayed in the city for a few days on their way down to their Florida apartment. Juliet met his mother, at lunch downtown that went well she thought. Except for that one moment when Todd was in the bathroom, and Juliet mentioned an event she had recently attended. She may have been nervous and talking a little too much, which was something she was trying to avoid doing. At the name of the event, Todd’s mother had looked at her a little astounded, like she was seeing Juliet for the first time. Juliet dropped the subject before Todd returned to the table. But the rest of the tea went perfectly fine and she forgot about the look his mother had given her.

The morning of April 12, they were sitting together at breakfast, on the same side of the table, their arms touching occasionally as they scrolled through their phones. 

“I’m going to lunch with my dad today.” Todd said, scrolling through the news.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Juliet stirred her blueberries and granola, then put down her spoon to take a sip of her coffee. “Anything special?”

“I think he’s going to finally tell me when I’ll be taking over the business.” Todd leaned into her, his smell wafting over and weaving in with the coffee taste in her mouth. Juliet inhaled deeply and leaned against his lean.

“That’s exciting. I hope so. You’ve wanted that for a while, right?” His forehead nodded into her temple, like a puppy that wants to play, and she put down her coffee, and they played. 

One of the small details that had gotten lost in the shuffle was that Juliet and Melanie were in an activist group since they had been in their 20’s. Juliet had taken that April morning off to meet Melanie at the cross street near where a protest would be that day. Juliet didn’t bring it up to most people, because when she had in the past, they generally would get this look in their eyes, like they wished she’d stop talking. 

“Nice sign.” Melanie nodded at Juliet’s three by three square cardboard that read: 

Graham Cock is 
fucking your 
children’s future!

“I mean, it’s still true.” Juliet shrugged. It was the third time she was using this sign. With all the time she was spending with Todd, she hadn’t had the time to make new ones. Melanie’s signs were always inventive, often newly made for the event.

“You ready?” Clara, another member of their group held up her own sign with their symbol on it: a bat with sonar waves.

“Batter up.” Melanie grinned as she placed a thick long metal pipe over her shoulder to which she had tied a piece of long white cloth that read:

STOP THE PIPELINE NOW!!!

It flapped gently in the wind, and they began the short walk towards the entrance of the bank that invested heavily in the fossil fuel industry. They congregated near the entrance, where several other organizations had already started to assemble. Word had gotten out about the CEO being in town, and that is when she saw him. Juliet saw Todd, just as he was carrying two containers of twenty-dollar salads, slack-jawed, frozen, at the main entrance of the building. He was staring at her like he had just seen her, or possibly BigFoot, for the first time.

“Oh shit.” Juliet’s arm went slack, and her sign dropped to the sidewalk.

“Isn’t that?” Melanie trailed off as she looked between her cousin, then back to Todd, then back to Juliet. “Wait, isn’t his last name..” And here Melanie trailed off again, because yes, it was. And it was not, as Juliet’s sign was trying to convince people, Cock. 

Todd’s expression was turning from shock to confusion to something like anger, but Juliet could see tears in the corners of his eyes. He threw the salad containers into the closest garbage and began marching over to her.

“I didn’t believe him.” He was shouting at Juliet. “I didn’t believe my dad when he said I couldn’t take over, because mom told him I was dating some eco nutcase, but apparently, I was wrong. What the fuck is this, Juliet?”

He had never raised his voice to her, and it took her a second to catch herself, but only a second.

“What the fuck is this?” The word “this” catapulted from her throat like it was a grenade. “Your father is Graham fucking Pock, the most evil piece of shit on the planet, and this”, hurled, once again, “What is this?”

They stood facing each other, suddenly subdued like they’d both been slapped. Forces outside of their control were whipping around them, like they were both standing in the eyes of opposing storms, silent, and all they really wanted to do was run towards each other, even if it meant their joint end.

“Juliet, what…” Todd choked on his words. “What are we… going…” The almost-anger was welling up in him again, and it would land somewhere, but Melanie who was standing nearby wasn’t going to let it land Juliet again, and she stepped in between them. As she did, the security stepped closer, the CEO’s son, a top priority. A few yards away, the security guard in charge signaled to the police that surrounded the protestors.

“You need to calm down buddy.” Melanie said quietly. Todd’s gaze locked onto her. He didn’t love this person in the way that he loved Juliet, and all his desperation unloaded onto her: “You fucked me. I can’t be CEO, because you two thought it would be cute to play cool, cool activists. This isn’t a game. This is my fucking life. And I just…” He took a step closer, and Melanie did too, the pipe slipped over the curve of her shoulder and down her back, 

STOP THE PIPELINE NOW!!!

rotating the pipe upwards, like a salute, and it looked like a weapon. And later they would say it did just look like a pipe, and even later some even said maybe even a little bit it looked like a sign, maybe, maybe not. But in that moment, one of the thirty-five cops who had been beckoned closer by the security guard in charge of protecting the CEO’s son, had a thought in his brain that said weapon, and when he heard that thought, he listened, and he squeezed. The weapon that was a pipe that was a sign fell to the ground and landed on Melanie’s body, and where the white painted cloth said “STOP”, red seeped in like water. 

Juliet’s scream was the only thing either of them remembered of the shooting. 

*

“Graham is meeting us for dinner.” Todd always calls his father by his first name like they grew up together, like they are friends on equal footing that laugh together easily.

“When is he landing?” Juliet rolls onto her back, and they look up at the helipad in the center of the boat. 

Todd rubs his eyes. “He said around five.”

“So, we have some time.” Juliet’s strength has returned after her three-hour nap where she did not dream. 

“So, we have time.” Todd pulls her closer. For a moment Juliet wonders how they never seem to see the crew or have gotten caught in the act. She hopes they get paid enough to make them feel that way.

**

After the shooting, Juliet was so shattered that she couldn’t think for weeks, barely ate, barely left the bed she and Todd continued to share. When she finally came out of it, she had changed. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on how, but it felt like everything had shifted slightly to the left, and now she was adjusting her life to fit this new angle. After six weeks she was able to resume a semi-normal existence. She still loved Todd. He still loved Juliet. She stopped seeing some of her old friends and he didn’t bring up her past. Somewhere in Juliet that part had appeared to have died with Melanie. Those feelings of: you can do anything, you can change something that is so much bigger than you, you are powerful. Melanie had been the one whispering those things into her ear since they were kids. Now she was gone. No one was telling her that she could change the world and so she stopped believing it. And it was so easy being with Todd. Just being in love. Constantly new places with new sceneries before a real thought could sink in too far. She felt so safe not having to worry about money in a way she had never experienced before. She didn’t have to think about what happened with Melanie. Her past life. This new life she had found felt like a thick, beautiful cocoon into which she could nestle with ease, exist without much effort, without pain, without struggle. Light, and simple, and air in, air out, she went on. They started talking about marriage. But of course, Todd would have to get his career back on track. She just nodded when he had brought this up. The restaurant where they were dining was Michelin rated something or other. You can swallow almost anything at a restaurant like that. 

*

After their romp up on deck, Juliet goes downstairs to freshen up. She applies fresh foundation to match her ever-more-tan skin, and smudges gloss onto her chaffed lips. A fresh white sun dress to convey her true innocence, so that Graham can see her reform, her assimilation to his son’s life, their needs. Rifling through the closet with the many bags she brought for the trip, Juliet suddenly finds herself holding Melanie’s purse from the night she first met Todd. A weird feeling starts to enter her arm with which she is holding the small tan leather bag that is surprisingly heavy.

Slowly she zips it open to reveal several tampons, a travel-sized deodorant stick, and a very expensive-looking metal paper weight shaped like a rounded flask, gilded except for the stopper made of real cork. 

“Hey Jules, what is that?” Todd has come in, and is going through his own closet, trying to find the shirt that will make his father look at him and see: future CEO, across his broad chest.

“Melanie stole it the night we met.” She takes the weight out of the purse. It’s the size of a tennis ball, but carries the weight of a brick, maybe more. “I accidentally packed her bag from that night.”

Todd turns, his brows furrowed. “Oh wow, she took that? Graham loves that thing. His college roommate gave it to him. He’s going to be thrilled you found it.” He takes it from her and plants a big kiss on her forehead, then her eyelids. When did she close her eyes?

“I’ll see you up there.” Todd squeezes her arm that still feels weird somehow, even though she’s passed on the weight. “Stunning dress, by the way.” And then Juliet can hear his footsteps as he runs up the stairs, followed by the far-off sound of a blades cutting through the ocean wind, as the helicopter with Graham and his team grows closer. Tonight, the reason for the dinner, is that Todd will finally be getting the nod, to get back into his father good graces, to get their future back on track. Juliet sighs and puts the purse back into the closet.

Graham Pock is already sitting at the table when Juliet makes her way aboveboard. 

“Nice dress.” He says gruffly, as she sits down across from him, next to Todd. The helicopter is already disappearing on the horizon to some airfield until Graham summons it back.

“Mikey will meet us at the harbor when we dock tomorrow. He has some business in the city that he has to take care of tonight.” At Mikey’s name, Todd stiffens. Mikey is his father’s business partner, though he is Todd’s age. A competition that Graham encourages to keep Todd guessing. 

“That’s great, we shouldn’t be there too late tomorrow.” Todd says, smiling with just a little strain. 

“Anyway, your mother is sorry she couldn’t be here, but she had things to attend to as well.” Graham says things in a way that makes it obvious that he has no idea what Todd’s mother is up to. As a vibrant woman twenty years his junior, she is probably doing little more than enjoying her life on the Upper East Side.

The pleasantries continue, and eventually the time comes, when Todd and his father gently smile at Juliet, like she is a child and must be sent to bed, so that the two grown men can retreat to the front of the boat, to smoke cigars and drink expensive dark liquor and talk about real things. The only consolation Juliet has that night, when she is ushered off to go to sleep, is that there is a decent change that Graham Cock may end up sitting where she and Todd made love earlier in the day.

She bows her head, like the good girlfriend she has become and heads down below. Alone in between the silk sheets Juliet falls asleep quickly. There is no nightmare theatre. All there is, is the rhythm of the sea that rocks her gently. The hum of an engine, or an air conditioner. Until there is a thud, and Juliet stirs. Then a stifled scream, and Juliet’s tired eyes tare open. Finally, the sound of something dragging, and Juliet is half-way up the stairs.

“Todd.” Juliet is looking around for anyone else, but they are alone at the front of the boat. “What happened?”

Todd is holding the shirt he wore to dinner in his fist and is frantically scrubbing at the surface of the boat. Pink froth slicked up to his elbows.

“You know,” he says calmly, “You know, I’m not sure.” For a moment he leans back and looks up at the sky that is continuing to lighten with imminent day break. 

“Okay, well, where is your dad?” Juliet starts walking closer to Todd, who doesn’t seem to notice. A trail of blood leads to the siderail.

“Yeah, he went overboard.” 

“After I hit him with that paper weight.” 

“After he told me I could never be a part of his company as long as I was with you.” 

“Oh.” Juliet crouches down beside him, and slowly pushes her fingers against the top of his forearm, popping tiny pink bubbles with her touch to break the spell. “Todd, did you mean to?”

Todd holds his breath, thoughts are forming behind his eyes, and he slowly shakes his head.

“We’d been drinking, we were having fun, and I thought he was about to tell me, and— I got the paper weight from the table where I’d left it, you know, as a way to say thank you, or I don’t know, celebrate?” The shrug of a little boy who knows not mean, but cruelty. “And he said, not if you are going to stay with that radical—so I shoved the paper weight at him. It was so, so heavy.” Todd looks directly at Juliet. “Why would a paper weight be that heavy, it holds down paper that makes like no sense.” They both look down at the trail of blood, Todd’s bloody hands. “He fell, and then he was just gone.” Todd’s voice sounds small and raw, barely audible above the waves sloshing against the side of the boat.

“Okay.” Juliet says and looks at him. Something in her stirs, from before. She knows where the staff keeps the cleaning supplies. “It will be okay,” she says to Todd. 

Juliet goes below deck and brings what they need. The sun is coming up fast now, and she looks over at Todd, two mops in one hand, a bucket in the other, and they smile at each other, weakly, as she hands him his mop. 

---