Page 19 of Juicy Pickle

I step over the short lip of the boat, and a man in white lifts the ramp. When he has it secured, he calls out to the main ship, “We’ll be back shortly for the second round!”

The small boat is covered with a canvas awning. A long bench lines both sides. Multiple rows of seats in the middle are filled with excited beachgoers.

I sit next to Sarah, not sure I’m thrilled that I ended up jumping the line. But she nudges my shoulder with hers and says, “Lighten up, Rhett.”

Her husband Caleb leans forward to talk around her. Their hands are clasped on her red-and-yellow floral swim wrap. He says, “Rhett, good to see you.”

“Thanks. Glad you could make it.”

“Couldn’t miss out on Blue Sapphire. They are both legendary and the biggest secret in celebrity cruises.”

Sarah leans her head on his shoulder. “Rhett knows all the good stuff.”

I like Sarah. In another life, she and Caleb would be personal friends as well as people I know from work. She was the firstperson I sought when the Bailey situation broke, and she advised me to respond swiftly. She’s usually all business in pencil skirts and reading glasses, but today she’d cuddled close to Caleb, the top of her face shaded blue from a sun visor.

“We missed you at the events last night,” she says. “Gloria was unwilling to spill the beans, but I assume you were working.”

“Maybe I was doing shots with the captain.”

She snorts so hard with a laugh that Caleb pounds her back. “Now this is the guy I want to party with,” he says.

I don’t hear that often at Dougherty. I glance to see if anyone is listening. A few people look our way, but the roar of the engine makes it impossible for sound to carry. I can’t hear any conversation beyond Sarah and Caleb. On the other side of me is nothing but the man steering the boat.

“I hear there will be all the margaritas you can drink on the island,” Sarah says. “And floaters of every flavor.”

“One of each, right, baby?” Caleb kisses her forehead.

Their closeness makes my solitude more acute. Dating has been nearly impossible these last few years, other than the random hookups when hanging out with Axel and Court. Or just Court now, since Axel seems to have settled.

Caleb reaches behind Sarah to poke my shoulder. “I challenge you to a tequila shot war.”

I hold up my hand at that. “Come now. Somebody has to be in charge.”

Sarah shakes her head. “You can take Rhett out of the office, but you can’t take the office out of Rhett.”

If she’d known me before Dougherty, she would never have said that. But Uncle Sherman was a man on a mission when our generation of the Pickle clan started having kids. He turned the delis over to his sons and put all his energy into these side businesses to bring on any extended family who wanted in.

I was given Dougherty.

Court became a VP of Pickle Media. Axel was already deep into his hiking app, which later sold for a cool half-million, so he’s doing this own thing in Colorado.

Our sister Nadia has also eluded the lure of the Pickle empire, although the way she and Uncle Sherman holed up together last Christmas makes me wonder if they’re working on something.

Water splashes the side of the boat, getting several people wet. They let out a cheer, as if the party has started. The island grows nearer. Its pristine sand lines the shore, dotted with blue chairs and backed with palm trees.

There isn’t much to it. Blue Sapphire employees stand on the end of the dock, where another, smaller boat is moored. We approach the opposite side and a crew member on the boat tosses a thick rope toward a man at the end of the wood planks.

In moments, they have both ends of the boat secured against the side of the dock. A short set of stairs is moved to the front, and most of the IT department, who apparently all loaded together, starts climbing out.

I wait for the others to disembark, taking in the shore.

The dock ends on the beach. A woman waits with a cart filled with colorful beach towels, handing them to everyone who passes.

To the right is a long hut with rough-hewn wood planks and a thatched roof. The front side is open, and staff members in bright blue shorts and T-shirts unpack food to rest on trays of ice.

Nestled behind it is another thatched hut with doors marked Women and Men. Bathrooms, I presume.

A good-sized shed, this one with a metal roof, has its doors thrown open. Outside of it are racks of life jackets and oars.Rows of red kayaks and standing paddle boats line the beach on that end.

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