When a shoulder injury wipes out Rory’s swim scholarships, her solo drinking party on the train leads to mandatory boot camp—until she begs to work on the Italian mega-yacht her overbearing mom captains instead.
But when Rory catches feels for a charter guest and he jumps ship to escape the future his parents have dictated for him, everyone assumes she helped. And her mom’s all-too-willing to fire her for it.
So when Rory discovers her crewmate BFF is the real culprit, she’ll have to decide: give up her friend, or take the blame—and the first flight to boot camp.
THE REST OF THE STORY meets Bravo’s Below Deck.
I’m not a bad person.
Sure, sometimes I jaywalk. I eat too much processed meat and I haven’t flossed since March. But my current predicament—party of one on the train, a thermos of vodka my only friend—this isn’t actually my fault.
Okay, maybe the vodka is my fault. But the blame for everything pre-vodka belongs to my parents.
Mom always wanted better, stronger, faster. That’s how I learned too much pressure always leads to a break. It broke my parents’ marriage and it broke me. Literally. Because I trained, and I trained, and then—snap. Broken.
My dad’s barely been around enough to teach me anything, except that the only thing worse than too much pressure is no pressure at all.
And that’s the sordid tale of how I fell from all-state swim star to the vodka-guzzling damp dust bunny staring back at me in the train’s window.
Sparks shower my reflection as white-hot energy pops off the track’s third rail, glowing against the darkened buildings as we barrel toward the Sheridan stop. I take another drink, ignoring the liquid pooled beneath my shoe, pretending it isn’t pee, though sadly, I know it is.