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As Ben and I make our way to the compact kitchen area of my cabin, the tension in the air is palpable. I set about brewing a pot of coffee while Ben continues to grumble about the damning article.
“Can you believe this garbage, Alex?” he grumbles, “‘Turtle Killers’? It's a load of fucking nonsense!”
“I know, Ben. This is ridiculous. But let's not jump to conclusions just yet. We need to figure out how to handle this mess.”
The coffee maker gurgles to life, filling the cabin with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed java. I pour us both a steaming cup, hoping the caffeine will help soothe Ben’s frazzled nerves.
I lean against the counter and scan the article as Ben takes his cup.
The words of the article are scathing, each sentence cutting deeper than the last. It discusses how the marina's environmental practices are endangering sea life, painting a bleak picture of the situation.
What stings the most is the inclusion of two anonymous interviewees, who shed light on the devastating impact of the light pollution caused by the marina, which is primarily attributed to…well, me.
How dare they say something like this about me?
As I read through their testimonies, my grumpy mood deepens into a heavy sense of regret and shame. And anger, too. The words of those interviewees seem to hang in the air, accusing me indirectly of the harm caused to the sea life, particularly the vulnerable turtles.
Ben's frustration is clear as he reads alongside me, his face reddening with anger. We exchange glances, knowing that we need to address this issue promptly before it spirals out of control.
“Man, this is a disaster,” Ben says. “Look, I know you own Sovereign Harbor, but the marina's reputation reflects my name too.” He sets down the coffee mug, which clinks against the table as he does. “I mean, this is where I throw my parties. I can’t see my associates in a marina that's getting a bad rep. And right now, it's being dragged through the mud!”
I smack my lips, thinking. “I know. I never wanted this to happen. But what can we do about it?”
Ben places his hands firmly on the counter. “We have to do something. We can't let this bad press ruin Sovereign Harbor's image. It's not just about the marina; it's about the entire community we've built here.”
“What would you suggest?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “How do we even begin to fix this? The damage has been done.”
“We need to show that we're committed to environmental responsibility,” Ben’s voice is firm.
I sigh. It feels like we are going around in circles.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “But, again,how?”
Ben stands up and begins to pace around my cabin. “Well,” he begins, “you know, I think Chris said his sister is quite the environmentalist.”
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within me.
“Oh, uh,” I say, doing my best to remain casual. “I didn’t think of that. What’s her name again?”
“I think it’s something starting with an E,” Ben ponders. “Ella? Emma? No,Emily.That’s it.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach as I recall our passionate night together, hidden behind masks and a veil of secrecy. It's a memory I can't deny.
But I can't let Ben or anyone else discover my connection with Chris's sister. So, I mask my inner turmoil with a casual nod and a hint of indifference, all while secretly treasuring the memory that I dare not share.
I naturally tense up. “Emily? Yeah, I guess she's... passionate about her causes,” I say.
Ben grins. “‘Passionate’ is an understatement. I had to kick the chick off my yacht before for trying to protest something or other,” Ben continues, “But here's an idea, Alex. What if we bring her aboard just for a bit of positive publicity? We'll listen to her advice, nod for the cameras, and that's it. No need to actually do anything she suggests.”
No,it's a terrible idea—shecan’t come back on board.
“Are you sure that's a good idea?” I ask. “It seems like she takes her environmental activism quite seriously.”
Ben dismisses this immediately. “Trust me, Alex,” he assures, “It's all about appearances. We can make it seem like we care without actually changing anything substantial. It's a win-win.”
I click my tongue. I can see now that there is no way out of this.
Hesitantly, I tell him, “Alright, if you say so. But we should tread carefully with her. She's... persistent.”
