ELENI

The pristine white yacht jutted out of the aquamarine sea like a killer shark’s fin.

“That’s new!” Eleni wrinkled her nose at the sight of it as she tightened her ponytail. “It wasn’t there yesterday.”

“Your yacht watching worries me, Leni. When is this going to stop?” Her friend Stefanos took a big bite from his souvlaki pita and looked at her with a dash of tzatziki on his lips.

They sat on a wall, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and the port, not far from the taverna owned by Adamos, Stefanos’ uncle, where Eleni and Stefanos both worked.

“It must have arrived overnight,” she mused, ignoring his comment. “It’s so big. How can you not notice it?”
Stefanos gave her a wicked grin, wiping his mouth. “I usually would, especially since it’s upright and hard.”
She swatted him playfully across his back, causing a piece of chicken to fall out of his pita and land on his lap. He picked it up, dusted it off, and took another big bite.

“Is that the one we’re partying on tonight?” she asked.

Stefanos slanted a hand to his forehead and squinted. “Could be. Cassia says tonight’s party is very important and there are some seriously rich—”

“Disgustingly rich, shouldn’t-be-allowed-to-be-that-rich people,” Eleni interjected. Her stomach roiled at the thought.

“She says we have to be on our best behaviour tonight.”

“Your aunt always says that.”

“And you have to watch your temper.” Stefanos waggled his finger at her. “Cassia is hoping to get a lot of business after this.”
Eleni gritted her teeth, before popping a piece of chicken into her mouth. Spetses, the glittering little jewel of an island—a playground for the global elite, celebrities and Greek tycoons—was littered with yachts. The wealthy rubbed shoulders with locals in the cafes and tavernas, the hotels and restaurants, as well as in the island’s many nightclubs.
Cassia jumped with joy each time a new yacht moored here. She welcomed the wealthy like bees to honey. Her business provided catering to the insanely rich and Eleni worked for her on the side, during evenings, weekends, and whenever she could. The only problem with working these events was that she didn’t get any tips. But Cassia paid well, and it helped.

Everything helped.

Eleni rubbed her hands together. “I only need another five thousand euros, then I’m gone.”
Stefanos’ face hardened. “You’re not going forever, Leni. You will return. You’re climbing Kilimanjaro, not K2.”
It was a big, bold thing to do, and no one thought she was capable of it. Not even her mother. But then, her mother was always waiting for her to fail—that’s what it seemed like to Eleni.
She often stared at the picture of Mount Kilimanjaro she’d pinned to the corkboard in her bedroom.

It was a dream. It had been their dream. Something she and Jonas had been planning for.

“At least now I have a reason for getting out of bed in the morning.” She didn’t have to cry herself to sleep every night now that she had a purpose.

Stefanos put an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to him and kissed her head. “I wish you wouldn’t go, but I understand why you have to.”

The last fifteen months had plunged her into the depths of grief because of the tragic death of her boyfriend, Jonas. He’d been killed in a horrific jet ski accident caused by reckless, drunk party goers off a yacht like the ones she now found herself waitressing on. They’d entered the water near where Jonas was swimming. A fitness fanatic with a love for adventure, Jonas had planned to one day set up a water sports business on one of the larger islands in the hopes of attracting tourists. He and Eleni had often talked about this, but her mother had scoffed at their plans.

“Stupid young love,” she’d called it. But, like with most things, Eleni ignored her.

Jonas had been Eleni’s first love and her best friend, and his passing had been a cruel blow. He’d been taken unexpectedly, way too soon and now he was never coming back. All their young dreams and plans had vanished forever, leaving Eleni devastated and rudderless.

Engulfed in her misery, she’d spent the first few weeks numbed by his death from such a tragic, senseless accident. A revulsion grew deep in her soul over people who hadn’t known their limits or cared about the dangers of their frivolousness.
Bad memories had forever stained this island for her. She had nothing to stay for here. No Jonas to plan a future with. Her mother didn’t seem too bothered about her. It was a miracle that they managed to live under one roof—a small roof nonetheless—but what they shared wasn’t a home. She’d never known her father and she felt more at home in the taverna alongside Stefanos who was like the family she’d never had.
But now her heart was starting to heal.

Between her two jobs she stood a good chance of earning the money she needed. At the taverna it was easy being friendly and cheery towards most tourists. It was the ones with their Rolexes, pearls and diamonds the size of ice cubes, who made her stomach turn. Yet she forced herself to be nice around these people because they sometimes gave the best tips.
Not all of them. It had surprised her how stingy many of them could be, how many of them looked down at her as a waitress and others like her.

Tourists flocked to Spetses during the summer months. They loved the island’s little alleys, the cobbled streets and charming black and white pebble mosaics decorating the courtyards. They gushed over the sparkling white walls of the houses, set ablaze by bougainvillea, jasmine and hibiscus in splashes of red, baby blue, pink, mauve and orange. Pretty houses stood proudly along the seafront, between the Old Harbor and the Dapia. But these places held no allure for her anymore, and her desire to leave the island grew stronger. Though she couldn’t leave yet; the summer months were her best chance to make extra money.
She nudged Stefanos with her arm before leaning against him as she stared at the sea. He’d seen her in her most heart-wrenching moments. He’d been there for her when her eyes felt as if they’d been sandpapered because she’d cried so much.

“Eleni.” Stefanos’s arm went around her shoulder, warm and protective. She tilted her head, laid it against his shoulder. “Don’t …” he cautioned. But she couldn’t drag her attention away from the water, or the yacht. Her eyes misted up. It came and went, just like that, out of the blue, when she least expected it.

Even now, all these months later, flashes of that fateful day returned, flooding her mind with painful memories. Her grief had turned to anger, and rage stewed inside her. She hated the wealthy tourists with their super yachts, their riches, their condescending gazes.

“Jonas wouldn’t want you to still be sad.”

“I’m okay.” She inhaled a big breath. Making the decision to climb the mountain, something Jonas had desperately wanted to do, had given her a new purpose. He’d said it was fine for beginners, and that they could do it together. He believed it would make them stand out when they started their water sports business.
Who wouldn’t want to know the business owners who’d climbed Kilimanjaro? Jonas saw it as a way of standing out. Only, his dream had died with him, but now Eleni sought to revive it. Instead of wallowing in sadness and grief, imagining a life of ‘what might have been,’ she was focused on this one goal.
It made her jump out of bed every morning and fly out of the door, past the mother who was too wrapped up in her own drama to care about Eleni. It enabled her to fake-smile and make trivial conversation with people she cared nothing for, in an attempt to earn good tips.

Stefanos jumped off the wall. “We should get back before my uncle comes looking for us.”

They returned to the bustling taverna to find tables filled with people. Laughter and chatter floated across the air along with the aroma of fresh coffee, the smoky, juicy scent of cooked meat and fresh bread.

“That was fast,” Eleni muttered, surveying the scene with trepidation. Lunchtimes this busy indicated a long, hard day would follow.

“He looks cute. Table in the corner.” Stefanos gripped her hand, the way he often did when he insta-crushed on someone.

Eleni cast a glance in that direction to find a man sitting alone surrounded by a paperwork and a briefcase lying on the chair next to him. He wore aviators with attitude, dark slacks, expensive looking loafers, and a watch.

There was always a watch. Big, bold and brash.

Eleni’s gaze traveled over his slim fit, short sleeved, cotton polo shirt. It was white with a thin blue stripe running across his shoulders; not that he needed to draw any more attention to them. Wide and thick, they hinted at more than his masculinity. They promised protection. Comfort. Strength.

She shook her head; certain she was coming down with something. But her gaze went back to the man whose short shirt sleeves strained slightly under biceps that teased her attention. Her eyes dropped lower, and she was in danger of drooling over his forearms: lean, veined, muscular and, for as long as he didn’t notice her, hers to ogle freely.

One quick laser glance and she’d figured him out. Not because she was a fashionista. She wasn’t, didn’t care much for such things, but because Stefanos was a fashion whore who admired a well-dressed man as much as any hot-blooded woman.

The man’s attire alone probably cost more than she earned in a year.

“I don’t think anyone’s seen to him yet.” Stefanos’ voice turned squeaky high with uncontained excitement.

“He’s all yours.” Eleni rushed to the kitchen and whipped on her half-apron, as did Stefanos. She tied the apron around her waist, before pulling out a notepad and pencil from one of the deep pockets. Then she got ready to tackle the customers.

Stefanos turned to her. “You can have him. You need the money more than I do.” He veered off in the opposite direction before she had a chance to tell him that she didn’t want this particular customer, but he’d left her with no choice.

She approached the man’s table and saw him looking through notes and scribbling things down.
“Hello,” she attempted a breezy greeting. Aviator sunglasses hid his expression, not that he was looking at her. She cleared her throat hoping to get his attention. “What can I get you?”

He looked up slowly. “You are open, then?”

An American.
She gave a small laugh, not understanding his comment. She even forced a smile. “Yes, sir. We open from—”

“I’ve been waiting for hours for someone to serve me.” His voice was crisp and sharp, and he looked at his watch as if confirming how long he had waited.

She forced another small laugh. “It can’t have been hours.” He raised an eyebrow which, given that she found herself reflected in two shiny black lenses, didn’t help her to gauge his expression. “Lunchtime is a busy time for us.”

“Then get more staff.”

She blinked. “I’ll be sure to pass your advice on to our manager. What can I get you?”

“An espresso.”

“Will that be all or would—”

“That’s all.” His attention returned to his cell phone again.

Rude.

And no ‘please’ or ‘thank you’, either. Another one of those rich, ill-mannered, arrogant ones. Eleni walked away, sliding her pencil into the front pocket of her apron, and gave the order to the barista.

Stefanos stopped to share his observations. “Have you seen the size of his hands?” he whispered. “He must be hung like –”

“Don’t,” she hissed.

“I wish I hadn’t given him to you.”

“It’s not too late. You take his espresso,” she offered. But Stefanos had already rushed off.

“Espresso.” The barista slid the small cup across the counter to her. She placed it on a small tray with a napkin and walked back to the rude American. “Your espresso.” She placed the cup on the table. The man grunted. At least, she thought he did. He didn’t look up but seemed vexed by something on his cell phone and jabbed his finger, texting away.

She was about to walk away when he asked, “Do you have freshly squeezed orange juice?”

“Yes, would you like some?”

Still not looking at her, he nodded, making a noise in his throat. Something on this phone had grabbed his attention.

“Was that a ‘Yes?’” she queried with a smile—hoping for a good tip—it was always for the tips.

He put the cell phone to his ear. “A large glass,” he said, absentmindedly.

She had visions of throwing it at him. “Only the one glass, then?” She was about to turn away when his tone stopped her. “The Acropolis? Linus, are you fucking kidding me?” he barked. “It’s a wasteland of ruins. What is wrong with the man?”

She frowned as she listened, unable to move.

“Tell him to go to hell,” he snapped. Then, “Don’t. Wait for me to get back.” He slammed the phone on the table, before sitting back and resting his arms on the armrest. “Jesus.” He raked his hand through his sandy brown hair. Eleni fought the urge to give it a good yank.

She couldn’t help herself. “It’s not a wasteland, and they are not ruins.”

Dark shades stared back at her. “Were you listening to my conversation?”

“Does an elephant have ears?” It wasn’t quite what she intended to say, but her anger had reached boiling point and rage simmered under her skin.

“You refer to yourself as an elephant. Interesting.”

She was about to shoot back a response about his sunglasses, about him being visually impaired, but didn’t want to stoop so low. Grounding down on her molars, she lifted her chin. “The Acropolis has ancient buildings which bear great historical and architectural significance.”

She walked away, her heart in her chest, knowing she’d done it again. Being rude wasn’t a part of who she was, but some people, like Mr. Arrogant and Rude, brought out the worst in her. She could not hear this man talking trash about the Acropolis and say nothing.

“Are you walking away?” He raised his voice, and she was sure people heard him two tables away. Customers turned to stare. She raced to the kitchen and poured out a glass of orange juice.

Maybe she had taken it too far this time.

“What’s going on?” Stefanos hissed, glaring at her as he reached for a tray of food to deliver.

Eleni shook her head. She didn’t know how he did it; took care of his customers and kept an eye on her at the same time. “The man is a nightmare. You should have served him.”

“It’s too late. Adamos is watching you, Leni. Don’t mess it up.”

“I’m going to fix it.”

She would. Mr. Arrogant was just this side of being too grumpy and too rude. He grated on her like the sound of metal scraping across a squeaky-clean plate. She walked back to his table, a glass of ice-cold orange juice in her hands, mentally preparing to be submissive, to put on an apologetic demeanor without verbally begging for forgiveness. Bracing herself to be nice and friendly when she felt anything but that. These types of men responded well to women like that.

As she reached the table, something wrapped itself around her ankle and she went flying. The glass of orange juice slipped from her hand at the point of impact. Thankfully, it didn’t break but slammed to the ground with a thwack.
Meanwhile, her hands and face smacked against the American’s chest. In her dazed state of shock, as another pair of hands helped her off him, her brain registered a body that had been hard. A wall of steel. There had been no give.

“I’m so sorry!” she gushed, as Stefanos helped her to standing. The American also jumped up, picking at his wet shirt.
She looked down to find her foot trapped in the long strap of a handbag.

“I am so sorry. It was my bag you tripped over. Are you hurt?” A timid looking young woman holding a toddler stared at her. A stroller stood nearby, and another slightly older child sat at the next table.

“I’m fine,” she replied. Eleni glanced behind her to see Stefanos helping the American. Wiping him down with napkins. A wet dream unfolding in real time.

The mother, face red and eyes popping, rained apologies on Eleni. Was she okay? Had she hurt herself? She looked so upset that Eleni forgave her on the spot, needing to hush her. She reassured the mother that she was okay, then untangled her foot from the bag and handed it back.

She and Stefanos had one goal; to make sure Adamos wouldn’t hear the commotion.
Although, this really hadn’t been her fault.

She hovered around and listened as Stefanos fretted and fussed over the American. “I’ll get you another glass of juice, sir. Don’t you worry. Is there anything else I can get you? On the house? No? Are you sure?”

“This place is a joke.” The American gathered his papers together. “Get me your manager.”

Stefanos smiled widely, quickly standing between Eleni and the American. “Please, sir. There’s no need.”

“Your manager.” The American growled.

“Don’t do that, sir. Please. She needs this job.”

Eleni couldn’t take this anymore. She couldn’t let Stefanos beg on her behalf. It was time to plead, and to appeal to the American’s better side, if he had one. She waded in. “I’m so sorry. I tripped, but it really wasn’t my fault.” That didn’t help, but also, it was the truth.

“Jesus Christ. I’m soaked and I smell like an orange.” The man pinched his shirt which now clung to his chest.

“At least it now has some color,” Eleni countered, nodding at his shirt and trying to make light of the situation. The American removed his shades and this time when he glared at her, she felt his wrath. “Imagine if it had been the espresso, you might have suffered burns.”

Stop talking.

It wasn’t like her to ramble. She usually knew when to shut up. The American lifted his head, immediately drawing her attention to his angular jaw. Emerald green eyes—just like the water a stone’s throw away—filled with fury and stared back at her. Her heart jolted.

In a panic, she stepped away, confounded by her reaction, by her noticing these very things. Something odd was happening to her. Her heart was racing in a way it had not for a long time.

The man squinted. His brow furrowed, his lips parted.
She waited for his tirade.
When he didn’t speak, she rushed to fill the prickly silence, confusion mixing with trepidation and causing her brain to short circuit.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with your shirt but …”

“But?” The word shot out like a bullet.

“It could have been much worse. You could be wearing Giouvetsi.”

“What?” He gave her a look that could have harpooned a whale.

It didn’t stop her from explaining. “Greek beef stew … with orzo pasta. We have it on our Specials menu today.”