Chapter 19: The Yacht

Sullivan had chosen a riverboat for the same reason he chose everything, because it photographed well.

It sat white and lit at the wharf, with paper lanterns along the rail.

A banner hung across the bow.

A NIGHT FOR PARTNERS, it said.

Sixty guests stood on the main deck holding champagne.

They were the investors who still believed him and the friends of Lavinia's father who didn't know what else to do.

I came up the gangway at eight o'clock on Thursday in my navy overcoat, with no glasses and no pen.

Emerson stopped at the bottom of the plank.

"You said I could stay on the wharf," she said.

"I said you could choose."

"I choose here, under the lamp, with a clear view."

She straightened my collar.

"If he touches you, I'm coming up."

"If he touches me, I'll let you."

She almost smiled.

The conversation on the deck thinned as I walked through it.

Most of the faces had seen me on a stage three days ago.

None of them knew what to do with their drinks.

Sullivan stood at the stern rail in the camel suit.

A small table had been set beside him with a white cloth, a single sheet of paper and a pen.

Lavinia stood three feet away from the table with her arms crossed over her coat.

She wasn't on his arm.

She wasn't anywhere near it.

"Our founder," Sullivan said, spreading his hands, "has come to do the right thing."

There was a ripple of applause, thin and nervous.

"Evening, Sullivan."

"Tris. You came."

He picked up the page.

"One signature. Then all of this goes away, and everyone here keeps their money."

"Read it to them."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Read it aloud," I said. "They're your guests. They should know what they're toasting."

Keep reading free with an account. Start Step Aside, I'm the King of Capital from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.