Page 39 of Badd Baby

We chatted through dinner, mostly about trivialities—music, movies, books, things like that. Once we'd paid the tab, we left the restaurant and I led the four of us on a leisurely stroll through the marina—seemingly at random but in reality heading toward Aunt Low's yacht, which was berthed at the far end of the marina, a location which afforded her some semblance of privacy when she and Uncle Xavier were in town. For the uninitiated, my Aunt Low is Harlow Grace, one of the most famous human beings on the planet. And my Uncle Xavier owns one of the world’s foremost robotics and technology corporations.

We reached their yacht; it was only a few years old, as they'd just recently replaced the one Aunt Low had owned for over twenty years. This one was state-of-the-art, having been designed by Uncle Xavier. It wasn't a massive boat, certainly not a super-yacht like some celebrities own; only seventy feet or so, it boasted the main quarters, a saloon—the boat version of a living room—a gourmet kitchen, several guest suites, a diving platform, a workout space, an office, and every piece of technological wizardry Uncle Xavier could pack into the thing. Which, Uncle Xavier being who he is, means it has things not even NASA does.

When we stopped in front of it, everyone seemed confused. The yacht doesn't look like a traditional yacht, looking more like a Chinese Junk than a luxury yacht, because Uncle Xavier is kinda weird and Aunt Low usually just goes with it. It’s a hell of a sweet boat, though.

Rune blinked at me. "Um. Duncan? What's…what's going on?"

I gestured at the boat. "This is where you guys will be staying tonight."

Raquel, Hamish, and Rune exchanged stunned, baffled glances.

"Is this yours?" Raquel asked, looking at me.

I cackled. "God, no."

Hamish cast a critical eye over the craft. "Never seen the like of it."

"Because it’s one-of-one," I answered. Stepping onto the gangway, I waved them after me. "Come aboard.”

I led them directly to the main saloon, which occupied the center of the boat’s floor plan. Both of the starboard and port side walls opened to create an open-air living space. The bow-side wall featured a floor-to-ceiling entertainment screen with surround sound built into the walls and ceilings. The stern wall was a full bar and kitchenette, and the center of the space boasted a U-shaped sectional that could seat ten people with room to spare. Aunt Low and Uncle Xavier, being the type of people they are, all the materials and finishes were comfortable, cozy, and homey rather than ostentatious. A narrow hallway led past the right side of the screen and to a full bathroom; another hallway on the left of the screen led to the main bedroom with its own en suite bathroom. The kitchen—or galley, as boat people call it—is in the lower level, along with the guest suites, workout space, and office.

The trio took in the saloon, the glimpse of the bedroom beyond it, the view out either side, and then the bottle of Dom Perignon and crystal flutes on the coffee table.

Raquel stared at me. "Duncan, what is this?" She indicated the champagne. "That's a three-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.”

I just grinned. "Have a seat, you two." I gestured at the couch facing the screen.

Hamish eyed me. "Why, though? This is all highly irregular."

"Just…trust me. Have a seat."

Rune stood next to me behind the couch, facing the screen. "What's going on, Duncan?"

"You'll see."

Hamish and Raquel gingerly sat down on the couch and waited, visibly impatient, while I withdrew the tablet device that controlled the yacht's central operating hub. Xavier had designed the ship so that it could be operated almost entirely from this tablet. For now, though, I used it to turn on the screen and then connect to Aunt Low and Uncle Xavier's matching setup in their primary home in Malibu.

The screen winked on, showing an empty white couch with the Pacific Ocean rippling and winking in the background. Just when I could tell Hamish and Raquel were about to be even more confused, Aunt Low entered the screen from the left and Uncle Xavier from the right, and they sat down in unison, as smoothly as if they'd practiced it.

Aunt Low grinned, waving. "Hi! You guys must be Hamish and Raquel."

Uncle Xavier gave a stiff, awkward wave and a polite smile. "Hello." He held his hands out, palms up, in a gesture he'd clearly—to me at least—practiced. "Welcome aboard The Argo. We are pleased to host you in our Alaskan home away from home on this penultimate night before your nuptials."

Hamish cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ah…pardon, but…you're Harlow Grace and Xavier Badd, are you not?"

"You are correct, Hamish," Uncle Xavier said. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Aunt Low leaned into her husband. "Xave, baby. Relax."

He squared his shoulders. "I am relaxed. But I believe a formal introduction is not inappropriate in circumstances such as these." He gestured at my aunt. "As you have surmised, this is my wife, Harlow Grace Badd, and I am Xavier Badd."

Raquel was covering her mouth with one hand, reaching behind her to grip Rune's hand while vibrating with barely contained excitement.

"I, um, well I'm Hamish Campbell, and this is my fiancée, Raquel Ellison."

Aunt Low leaned toward the screen. "My god, you two are just gorgeous together! How did you meet? I need the love story."

Raquel turned to look at Hamish, then cleared her throat. "Well, um, it's kinda boring. We met at USC. I was there on a scholarship studying journalism, and Hamish was there studying film. We met our freshman year in the cafeteria and just sort of…gradually fell in love."