Sophie blushed as she stared at their surprise visitor. “I guess you got the news that I’m working for Eaton Tours?”
Jerry raised his eyebrows. “You call that working?” Smirking, he added, “If that’s working, then I obviously chose the wrong career.”
Grant coughed nervously. “Sir, you’re here to check up on us?”
“Yes, Madsen. It’s standard procedure to visit you at home and work to make sure you’re not getting into any trouble. I tend to avoid informing you in advance because I enjoy keeping my parolees on their toes. I like the element of surprise.”
“Well, you sure surprised us, sir,” Sophie confirmed uncomfortably.
Jerry chuckled. “Thirty years and that was definitely a first: parolees sucking face right in front of me.” He shuddered. “Jesus, I could have done without that!”
Grant forced himself to recover. “I apologize for the unusual welcome, sir,” he said as he firmly shook Jerry’s hand. “May I show you around the ship?”
Looking at the parolees skeptically, Jerry relented. “That would be fine. Is that your uniform?”
Glancing down at his navy-blue jumpsuit, Grant grinned. “I wore this when I was chief toilet cleaner. But since then I’ve been promoted. I was just doing some maintenance in the engine room down below.”
“You made it up to chief navigator, Madsen?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ve also been filling in as docent on occasion. Would you like to see the bridge?”
Nodding, Jerry appeared impressed. He followed Grant up the stairs to the top deck.
Sophie bit her lip, unsure if she should follow. She looked up at the bridge and found Grant engrossed in explaining the various controls for the ship, with Jerry listening attentively. She sighed and headed toward the bar, her original destination before running into Grant, who was truly a good man, she thought. And who had given her quite a good kiss.
She knelt down, reaching deep into the cabinet for a wayward bottle of rum, and heard Grant’s voice patiently explain, “We run four cruises daily.”
“When are your days off?” Jerry inquired, trailing Grant into the passenger seating area.
“Uh, so far we don’t get any days off,” Grant responded.
Sophie rose and nervously eyed her parole officer from behind the bar.
Noticing her appear over the counter, Jerry asked, “And what are your duties on board, Taylor?”
She blushed. “I, um, serve the drinks, sir?”
Jerry looked disgusted. What kind of boss put a parolee in charge of booze? “And you don’t get any days off? Where is this Roger Eaton?”
Grant and Sophie exchanged nervous glances.
“Who the fuck wants to know?” a familiar male voice grumbled from behind them. Turning around, Grant and Sophie both inhaled sharply to find their boss strolling slowly and unsteadily toward them, working to get his sea legs back.
Grant quickly approached Roger. “Do you need any help, sir?”
Roger waved him off, continuing to stare at the salt-and-pepper-haired invader on his ship. Clearing his throat, Grant introduced them, “Mr. Eaton, this is Officer Stone from the DOC—our parole officer.”
Finally shuffling over to Jerry, Roger breathed heavily as he extended his hand, and the two men shared a vigorous handshake. “The PO is checking up on his cons, huh?” He took a sideways glance at his employees, smirking, “No wonder these two look like they’re about to crap their pants.”
Jerry wasn’t quite sure what to make of this greeting, so he got down to business. “You’re Madsen and Taylor’s employer?”
“That I am,” Roger confirmed. “Though what possessed me to hire two parolees is beyond me.”
“Are they causing you any trouble, sir?”
Roger decided joking around might not be the best idea at this juncture. “They’ve been doing fine,” he said. “They told you they’ve been running the cruises the past four days?”
Jerry shook his head.
“Yeah, I had a goddamn heart attack and just got released from the hospital,” Roger said. “I had to let these two take over, and from what I can tell so far, they didn’t fuck it up.”
Grant felt his shoulders drop an inch, and he realized how anxiously he’d been awaiting his boss’s assessment of their performance. He had the sense that “not fucking it up” was high praise.
“I’m a little concerned about Taylor working the bar, Mr. Eaton. Has she had proper bartending training?”
Roger shifted uncomfortably. “She’s just a server. We have a bartender who has trained her on spotting fake IDs.”
Sophie stopped breathing at Roger’s lies. They did indeed have a bartender, Dan, who was another of Rog’s old Navy buddies, but he was constantly hung over, which made his attendance at work spotty.
“Have you had any problems with tardiness, insubordination, or association with criminal activity from either parolee?” Jerry asked, still a bit suspicious.
“Nah, none of that,” Roger replied.
Mentally checking off his list of questions for employers, Jerry added, “Any use of alcohol or other substances at work that you know about?”
Now Grant held his breath. He could imagine how fast he would return to Gurnee with an allegation of drunk boating.
Roger maintained his poker face. “Look, I’m just returning from the hospital, so I have to do some investigating to see how these two truly performed in my absence. But I got nothing to report to you indicating that they should go back inside. They were royal pains in the ass, making me go to the hospital when I had chest pain, but they probably saved my life in the process. And they both work very hard.”
Sophie wanted to kiss Roger right then and there, but she restrained herself, anxiously twirling a tendril of blond hair in her fingers instead. She glanced surreptitiously at Grant, who broke his military gaze forward to shoot her a nervous look.
Suddenly, Roger barked, “Speaking of working hard, what the fuck are you two doing just twiddling your thumbs? Get this ship ready for the first cruise!”
“Aye, sir,” Grant replied, immediately striding toward the storeroom.
“You got it, Rog,” Sophie added, taking a wet rag and beginning to wipe down the benches.
Five minutes later, Sophie and Grant’s cleaning duties brought them together again, and they gazed apprehensively up at the bridge, where their parole officer and boss remained deep in conversation.
Sophie grimaced. “Why do I feel like our parents are up there discussing our punishment or something?”
“I don’t know, but I feel the same way,” Grand said with a chuckle. “Hopefully that punishment won’t involve a return to prison.” His expression turned serious. “We both owe Rog big time.”
“Yep. And thank God Jerry didn’t quiz me on spotting a fake ID.”
“I can’t believe Rog failed to mention my little tequila bender,” Grant said. “Though those body shots may have made going back inside worth it.”