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I knock my whiskey back, and I walk towards Storm as she heads to where her, Dante and I were earlier.
The crowd on the main floor is dense, and I cannot keep up with Storm. I cut down an internal passage, and head to the rear of the yacht. It becomes a maze, and I am lost.
I pause to use a bathroom, and catch my breath.
As I try to process the two-billion-dollar Wall Street discussion, I remove my jacket. I need to move fast and find my girl.
I lean on the marble sink, and I run cold water, and bathe my face. I’m fried. I take two long, needed breaths in. As the main bathroom door opens and closes behind me, I mumble, “It’s busy.”
I’m sure I hear the door to the bathroom then turn, but maybe I’m losing it with the water on my face.
“Hello?” I ask, annoyed.
There’s no answer, so I shake my head.
I need to get back to Storm, and I need to get her and me home. Home to where we can build a life, away from the madness of showbiz.
As I dry my face and turn, I see Sophia in front of me.
The lunatic is now naked, her dress at her feet. She is also knocking back a shot of something. As she eye fucks me, she walks forwards. She is shaven, hot, and cat-like.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Sophia hands me a shot, and I swat it away. The glass shatters against the wall, but she continues forwards. Shaking my head, I back up. “Get the hell away from me!”
“Take me, any place you want, any style.”
“Get the hell out.” I demand.
Snatching my dinner jacket, I try to sidestep her. The woman is fast, and she tries to grab me. At the same time, the door opens, and Storm’s eyes widen.
The timing is horrific, but it has just gotten worse. The crazy French woman is starting to kneel, and she is reaching for my zipper.
“Babe!” I yell, but Storm is fast and...
Gone.
The door slams closed, and I cannot throw the French woman aside and run. Doing the next best thing, I swing her away, and onto a velvet sofa.
“You animal,” she cries, as I slip on the wet marble floor.
I finally reach the door handle, and run out the door. Now outside, I look left and right, before I run through the yacht.
I search desperately for Storm, but the yacht has many decks, stairwells, and likely three hundred guests.
Minutes later, I find Dante, and I run up, “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Storm!”
“She went to find you.”
“Shit!” I yell, leaning over the side of the super yacht.
I scan the deck below, and I see Storm running along the gangway, and sliding into a black taxi.
“Storm!”
