Sharks and Minnows

We were running out of food, and I was running out of patience. It felt like weeks since I’d gotten the late-night text from my boss, ordering me down to his private dock for a spur-of-the-moment yacht trip. From any other employer, it would’ve been a ridiculous request, but I was personal assistant to famed billionaire Ivar Tsarukyan, and he was not like other employers.

I’m sure you’ve seen his name in the news lately.

Eccentric and entitled, the man couldn’t wipe his own ass if he didn’t have me standing by to hand him the toilet paper. So, I wasn’t particularly shocked when he summoned me to his pleasure craft for an impromptu ocean excursion.

What did surprise me was the company. When I arrived, I found his publicist, Vivian Morrow, waiting on the dock. A brazen social climber, she and Tsarukyen went back decades. You know the type: gold jewelry and power suits, with a smile that showcased just a few too many teeth. My skin bristled at the sight of her. I had drawn her passive-aggressive ire more than once during my tenure as Ivar’s personal assistant. Cloying and manipulative, she could not stand when his attention was directed at anyone but her.

As I approached, I was surprised to see a lit cigarette perched between her fingertips. I had never seen her smoke, although I’d sometimes caught a whiff of it underneath her noxious perfume. On closer inspection, I saw that her hair was slightly ruffled, and her three-piece suit held noticeable creases. She tapped her foot idly and glanced the Rolex on her wrist, before I stepped into the light of a dock lamp, and finally caught her attention.

With a flick of her fingers, the cigarette vanished into the churning waters of San Francisco Bay, and she greeted me with her signature toothy grin and thrum of radioactive positivity.

“Patsy!” She exclaimed. “Or, I’m sorry, is it Patricia?”

“Hannah,” I replied remotely.

“Oh, silly me,” She said with a wave of her manicured nails, “Patricia must’ve been his last assistant. He just burns through you little things so fast it’s hard for me to keep up.”

I gave an impassive nod.

“Well, now we can finally get a move on,” She chirped. “I swear, Ivar hates it when I keep him waiting.”

Before she could comment on how my blouse matched the bags under my eyes, a baritone voice called down from the deck of the nearby Yacht.

“Hannah what the fuck took you so long?!” Ivar called, a deeply fermented slur dulling the edges of his words “Let’s go!”

I reluctantly followed Vivian onboard the ship, still puzzled by her attendance. I’d heard the occasional rumor about her and Ivar, and I shuddered to think that I might be playing third wheel on some secret romantic getaway. It seemed unlikely, however. I’d gotten the distinct sense that Ivar was not interested in women his age, or even those within a decade of himself.

I soon discovered that Vivian possessed some utility, specifically: she knew how to pilot the yacht. This was necessary, as Ivar had not seen fit to summon the crew. She steered us out into the bay, then into the open ocean.

And so our voyage began.

It didn’t take me long to realize something was off.

It started when I lost my phone. I searched my luggage for hours, practically ripping my suitcase apart trying to find it. When I asked Vivian if she’d seen it, she gave a dazed shrug, her countenance undoubtedly dulled by the Ambien I’d seen her popping earlier.

“You probably dropped it while you weren’t paying attention. You millennials and your phones. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s at the bottom of the Pacific right now.”

I gave an indignant huff and stomped away.

Without my phone to keep me occupied, I became more keenly aware of my surroundings. I noticed that Ivar was drinking, a lot. He spent most of his time locked in his cabin, but I could hear bottles rolling around on the floor from the hallway. When he did emerge, he was stumbling and barely coherent, usually demanding that I make him a PB and J (they were his favorite food, and basically all he ate.)

The Yacht had a kitchen area, but the pantries were poorly stocked, with most of the space pillaged to make room for copious amounts of alcohol. It didn’t take me long to burn through most of the non-perishables that remained.

Whenever I tried asking Vivian or Tsarukyan when we would be heading back, they just shooed me off or ignored me entirely.

After a few days, I was fed up. I banged on Tsarukyan’s door, and after some crashing and grumbling, he answered in his bathrobe.

“What?”

“I want to have a meeting. On the deck. Now.”

It was past sunset when I finally managed to corral both of my captors out into the open. Tsarukyen collapsed onto a deck chair, a half-drank bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand. Vivian leaned against the ship’s railing, sundress flowing in the cool wind.

“What is going on?” I demanded. “Why are we really out here?”

Tsarukyan took a pull from his bottle, Vivian just sighed like I was the world’s biggest Diva.

“Can’t you handle a little vacation? I swear, all this constant hustle, ‘rise and grind’. Don’t you know how to relax?”

She gave a humorless laugh, waving her hand in Ivar’s direction. He ignored her.

“I just think this little ‘vacation’ has gone on long enough,” I said resolutely. “Maybe it’s time we head back, don’t you think Mr. Tsarukyan?”

“Can’t do that,” He mumbled, not making eye contact.

“Why not?”

“I’m sensing some tension,” Vivian interjected, “why don’t we all just call it a night?”

“Why not, Ivar?”

I knew I was pushing my limits, addressing my boss by his first name, but at this point, I was past caring.

He frowned and made a vague gesture with his hand. “America is… not a good place for me right now.”

“Ivar!” Vivian hissed. “Don’t tell her!”

“What’s she gonna do, jump off the boat? We’re a million miles from land, and we shorted the radio and took her phone, remember?”

“You did what?!” I exclaimed.

“I told you it was a bad idea to bring her!” Vivian said, shaking her head.

“She’s the only one who knows how to make PB and Js the way I like!”

My face was heating up, and my temper flared. “What is going on?!” I practically screamed. “What do you mean ‘America is not a good place for you’?!”

There was a tense silence. Finally, Ivar made a grumbling sound in his throat. “You know… stock price… markets… shareholders.”

“Those are all words,” I affirmed.

“Then there’s the matter of…” He paused, letting out a hearty burp. “The allegations.”

I felt my pulse skyrocket. “The. What.”

“You know,” He mumbled, “A bunch of attention-seeking whores who want to make a name for themselves by saying I touched them ‘inappropriately’ or whatever…”

I put a hand over my mouth.

Ivar snorted indignantly. “Oh for Christ’s sake! Relax! It’s not like I’d ever try anything with you! You’re ugly. Hell, that’s the main reason I hired you, so I wouldn’t look suspicious. Only dipshits hire hot assistants. I mean, no offense, but you’re a four.”

I was so heavily dissociated that the insults just bounced off me like nerf darts.

“Anyways,” Ivar said, giving a big stretch, “Glad that’s out in the open. You ladies have a good night.”

He got up from his seat, and stumbled back below deck.

I was silent for a long time, standing perfectly still as the ship rocked lazily beneath me. I heard the snap of a lighter and caught a whiff of a freshly lit cigarette. Vivian’s boney hand patted me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my trance.

“It’ll be okay,” She said. “We just need to lie low for a while, that’s all! By the time the next news cycle rolls around, everyone will have forgotten all about this! Besides, half those girls are lying anyways.”

“What do you mean half?” I said, still in shock. “How many are there?!”

“Well, after the first sixteen came forward the rest just kind of piled on…”

“The first—” I covered my mouth again to stop from screaming, letting a shrill squeak slip through my fingers instead. I stumbled over to the ship’s railing and gripped the metal, forcing myself to recover some of my composure. “You’re joking,” I stammered. “You’re telling me that my boss is Harvey Weinstein?”

I heard Vivian tapping her foot uncomfortably. “With a bit of Epstein thrown in,” She admitted.

I hurled over the railing of the ship.

When the last regurgitated bits of canned beans were done dribbling down my chin, I sunk to my knees. “I just wanted to pay off my student loans!” I cried. “Is that so much to ask?”

“Well, you really shouldn’t take out loans you can’t pay back…”

“Shut up!” I screamed.

“You’re upset.”

I forced myself to tamp down my sobbing. “You-you realize that we’re both implicated now, right? We’re aiding and abetting!”

I met Vivian’s eye and thought I saw a flicker of doubt cross her face, although it was hard to tell through all the Botox. I decided to push my position.

“They’ll lock us both up with him! You know that, don’t you? But not if we turn him in! You know how to pilot the Yacht, you can turn us around!”

“I can’t, Ivar—”

“Ivar’s a fucking idiot! He wouldn’t even know we’d changed direction until we were in sight of land! We’d look like heroes, two women thwarting the escape attempt of our evil boss!”

Vivian sucked on her cigarette, and there was genuine uncertainty in her beady eyes.

“We’re not going back!” Came a heavy, drunken voice. “This boat isn’t stopping until we’re in international waters.”

I heard something scraping the deck, and turned to see Ivar emerging from the shadows dragging, what else, but a loaded harpoon gun.

He hoisted the weapon and aimed it squarely at the two of us.

“Ivar, sweetie, is that really necessary?” Asked Vivian, with a surprising degree of calm.

“Maybe you were right,” Ivar grunted. “Maybe it was a mistake to bring her along.”

The barrel of the harpoon gun shifted towards me.

“Woah, okay!” I said, trying not to let fear paralyze me. “I was just making some suggestions! That’s all!”

“And you!” Ivar exclaimed, turning back to Vivian. “You’re just as deep in this as me! I mean, who was it who acquired all those girls in the first place? And are you forgetting the three-way we had with that Brazilian teenager? I go down, you go down!”

Vivian, for once in her life, was silent.

“Now, we’re going to play a little game,” Ivar growled, taking a step forward. “One of you little traitors is going overboard. Eenie, meenie, miney—”

At that moment, a wave buffeted the ship, and the drunken Ivar lost his footing. He toppled to the deck, and the harpoon gun skittered away from him. There were several seconds of confused shock, then we all dove for the weapon.

There was scratching, clawing, and, I’m not ashamed to admit it, a bit of biting.

In the end, it was Vivian Morrow who stood, hoisting the harpoon gun, platinum blonde hair tangled and power suit streaked with blood.

Tsarukyan and I stumbled to our feet. She aimed the harpoon gun at Ivar, then at me, then back at Ivar.

“Vivian!” Ivar exclaimed, in his most endearing voice. “You know I was just kidding! I would never turn on you! We’re like Bonnie and Clyde! Two of a kind! Birds of a feather!”

“No! No!” I cried. “He’s using you, Vivian! You’re a victim! Everyone will be able to see that!”

“You can’t trust her!” Ivar shouted. “She’ll turn you in to the cops! You saw how quickly she spun on me! She’s an attention-seeking floozy just like the rest of them!”

Vivian seemed to consider that. The barrel of the harpoon gun drifted in my direction.

“Ivar called you ugly,” I blurted. “He said you’re ugly, and you look old, and all the young guys who hit on you just want your money.”

I wasn’t quite sure where it came from. It was true of course; I’d overheard Ivar badmouthing her many times. “He said your suits are tacky, and that you have your dad’s hairline—”

“She’s lying!” Ivar cried. “Viv—”

“He said your breast reduction surgery dropped you from an eight to a six.”

Vivian gasped. “I had back problems you asshole! That’s it, you’re going overboard.”

She gestured at the railing.

“Easy,” Ivar said, taking a step towards her. “Let’s not be too hasty, let’s just—”

He dove for the harpoon gun. The two of them wrestled for it, careening dangerously close to the ship’s railing. The gun clattered to the deck, the two of them still interlocked.

“You’re a worthless bitch just like the rest of them!” Ivar hissed.

“You’re a tiny dick child molester!” Vivian fired back. She kneed him in the groin, then shoved him backward.

I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the final look of shock and terror on Tsarukyan’s face as he went over the railing, tumbling ass over teakettle to his doom, followed by a loud crack as his body hit the freezing water below.

Vivian leaned over the railing, waving goodbye to her former friend, as his screams and cries for help slowly faded. She glanced back at me with a manic grin.

“Way to go us!” She exclaimed. “Teamwork! Girl power! Feminism!”

She turned away and started to light a cigarette.

“Yeah,” I said, as I quietly lifted the harpoon gun from the deck and aimed it at her back. “Go us.”