"How's the newest salvage coming along boss?"
Charlie scratched his chin, feeling the scruff on it. He was in desperate need of a shave, but he simply felt far too lazy and he had hoped that it would eventually grow in properly. He shrugs glancing at Ken. "It's nowhere near being seaworthy again. I still need to patch the hull, grease the motor, upgrade all the electronics —I'm not even a hundred percent sure that it's worth it. I suppose we could sell it to a scrap yard, it's never going to be one of our rentals. I might be able to find a seller for it, you know someone looking to buy a cheap yacht to impress a woman."
Ken snorts. They were in the right place, then, to find a sucker that they could unload the boat on. "Let me know if you need any help." He said, not really meaning it but aware that Charlie wouldn't ever take him up on the offer anyway.
"It's fine, I've seen your craftsmanship. We want to make money on this not lose it," Charlie mocks, shaking his head at the idea that he'd let Ken touch one of his pet projects. He had the rest of the summer to work on it. "Where are the rest of the guys? Doing tours? Teaching classes?"
Ken frowned slightly and opened up a file. He wasn't exactly fond of all the male models that Charlie had trapezing around, they made him look—bloated. But they were all skilled, and business was booming especially with the women and gay community. "Henri and Bamboo are cleaning up Summer Wind and Nimue to get it ready for the next boat tour this afternoon. You're going to need to take a look at the engine for the Talon, and you might need to patch the hull for one of the rentals. One of the damned kids ran it against the rocks. I kept the deductible, yelled up a storm and threatened to sue. Said he got it like that."
"Stupid trust fund brats." Charlie rolls his eyes, "Good job. I'll make the hull repair first priority since our busy season is coming up." The door to the shop jingles and Charlie turns to the front desk. "Welcome to North Sails, your home for your boating and yacht needs. How may I help you today?" He asked flashing a smile.
The man looks him up and down with the air of old money and superiority that makes Charlie want to roll his eyes. He knew the type. "My wife read that this was the place to go. We're holding a party at the end of the summer that needs to hold a lot of important people."
"How big of a party?" Charlie asks reaching to grab some brochures. Their biggest yachts hadn't been completely booked out for the month of August yet. He had made a deal with some of the various caterers to allow them to work the boat for these types of events. It was good business all around. "Depending on the size of your party we have different yachts available. We've got an 80' Solstice Luxury that holds around fifty people, the bigger 100' Midnight Sun that can host approximately 130 people, which would include catering staff and then we've got the—"
"Just give me your biggest damn boat." The man interrupts impatiently. He narrows his eyes at the boy in front of him. He looked a bit dishevelled and there was a black stain on his shirt, probably grease or something. Appearance was everything and this boy didn't look like he knew what he was doing. He was probably new or something. If his wife hadn't insisted that this was the hot spot he'd leave and find somewhere else. "Do you have any idea who I am? I'm Carlos Lopez—"
Charlie resisted the urge to make a face, he knew the type well enough and he knew where this was going. "Would you like me to get you the manager?"
Carlos frowned, narrowing his eyes at the boy in front of him. "Yes, I think I would rather deal with a manager. This event is far too important to simply leave to chance."
"Of course, sir," Charlie nods schooling his face. "One moment let me go get the manager," Charlie informs the man with another one of his disarming smiles before turning to walk into the shared office and making a face at Ken. "There's a customer that wants to deal with the manager," Charlie informs him. He shifts his hand discretely so that Ken can see him holding up three fingers.
Ken smirked, understanding what Charlie meant. They dealt with guys like this all the time, but this guy must have really irritated his boss if Charlie was going to charge him three times their going rate. If he was smart he'd probably negotiate down to two and a half times the going rate. It'd probably make the ass feel good about himself. "Of course."
Charlie steps back out of the office and smiles politely. "This is the manager, Ken. This Mr. Lopez, he wants the biggest party Yacht we have." Charlie informed Ken who raised a brow at this, the biggest boat that they had cost seven grand for four hours. Which didn't even include all the extras or the fuel.
"Right," Ken nodded extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet your Mr. Lopez. Charlie mentioned you wanted our biggest yacht, it's an excellent choice the W. Marine can hold four hundred guests, it has 4 bars one on each of the deck, and dining room seating for 250. I can give you a tour of course of our various ships, so you can choose the best one. Each one offers something different."
Carlos nodded, a boat that big was far too big for what he needed. "The guest list is only around ninety people. However, I am trying to impress a business client, and I hear that he does love to sail. My wife mentioned that she was at a charity event last summer on this boat that felt like it was a classic."
"Ah you're talking about our Winslow, it is exceptionally popular," Ken nods well even if it was the Winslow, they were still going to be making a fortune on this event. "I believe that it's currently being inspected however I can show you photos and, in a few days, you can tour the yacht with me."
Charlie rolled his eyes Ken would make this sale, and he'd make sure to give Ken the bonus for doing it. The crew that he generally hired got tipped twice and ended up making quite a bit of money and he turned a blind eye to any of them hooking up with their guests. "I'm going to go work on that hull repair if you need me."
"Of course," Ken nods dismissively. They had played this game before, he had been one of the first people Charlie had hired when he had inherited the business. It had hurt his pride to be working someone who could very much be his son, but Charlie wasn't a terrible boss. He didn't like being a hardass, the pay was good and then there were moments like this where he got to be the boss for a little while. They both seemed to hate rich pricks. Plus, unlike the rest of the crew, he had a full-time year-round job even though they made a vast majority of their money in the summer. He had the easiest job in the winter once the boats were secured.
Charlie scratched the back of his head and headed out of the shop, he grimaced glancing up at the sun. From the looks of it and the feel of it, he was in for a hot day. Best to take off his shirt now, so he wouldn't have to visit the laundry room later today. Then he could simply go to the bar with the rest of his workers and have a few cold beers and giant burger while watching whatever was on the television before heading back to his houseboat. He had planned to take the boat out fishing, so he could catch a bluefin tuna.
He adored being out on the open water and he knew that owning a business that let him do what he loved every single day and paid his bills and funded his college education at Yale made him the luckiest man alive. Especially since he had inherited the business, something that he had never planned or at the time wanted, he'd much rather still be working under Burt. The man who had given him a chance when he was twelve years old to earn a bit of spending money, despite his general crankiness at dealing with rich spoiled brats. If his father hadn't informed him bluntly to get a job and earn the skateboard that he wanted so badly, then he probably never would have met Burt who didn't seem to care what his last name was. Burt had worked him like a dog, he had been cleaning ships and learning how to fix them and the pay was horrible for the back-breaking work, but none of it mattered when Burt took him out on the sea with his boys to go fishing. It made the weeks of hell worth it.
In the end he had never bought the skateboard, he had wanted to buy his own boat. So, he had saved every penny that he had earned. He had worked at North Sail every summer, learning everything he could from Burt, who had even offered to sell him his first boat. It had been a salvage that he had repaired. If he had continued saving until he graduated from school he would have finally made enough for the small cruiser. But then Burt's stepson had died when he was sixteen and it was obvious that Kurt was never going to take over the family business and Burt had taken a chance on him. Burt passed away two days before he graduated and at eighteen he had become the sole owner of North Sails. He had asked for a deferral at Yale and had spent the entire year building the company into what it was today. He didn't know if this was something he was going to do for the rest of his life and he graduated this year, perhaps he'd start another business of sorts and see how that went.
He pulls his shirt off in one quick movement and makes his way to his next project. Hull damage was a lot of work and he'd be busy for most of the day, depending on just how bad it was. He cocks his head when a shrill wolf-whistle sounds from the town car parked in front of the shop.
He turns to the woman sitting in what appeared to be a midlife crises convertible. Joy, if he were to rank them, heiresses were ranked directly under idiotic fraternity brothers who didn't have respect for his shit. They were needy and demanding and he'd just as soon avoid them as be the object of their affections. He smiles politely and waves before turning back to his intended target.
He hears the door shut to the overpriced car and doesn't turn around, instead heading to the hull repair that awaits him. Maybe if he ignored her she'd go away, while he didn't mind if his crew slept with the clients, he couldn't make it a habit. It would probably come back to bite him in the ass. Or, they were simply far too much work and too much of a headache to deal with.
"Hey."
Charlie groans inwardly and turns to face the woman once more studying her. "Hello, how may I help you?" He asks politely scratching the back of his ear. She looked like a teenager which meant that she was probably even more trouble than she was worth.
"Well, I noticed that it said that you gave boating lessons." The woman said leaning in to his personal space.
Charlie turned a bit to sort of dissuade her from pursuing him, he'd seen this before, and normally he wouldn't be opposed to pushing the women towards any of the other guys, she was a teenager and that seemed like a terrible idea. "We do, if you just go inside the shop I'm sure that our manager can set you up for some lessons. We offer a few different—" Charlie trails off as she touches his shoulder. "We offer a few different types of boating lessons depending on what you want to learn," he says continuing to talk and gently moving back from the touch. "We have some really good instructors—"
"Are you one of the instructors—?"
"I'm just a mechanic," Charlie responds smoothly as he lied through his teeth. He did occasionally fill in for a few classes, and he didn't mind teaching people how to sail. "If you want our best guy though, ask for Sam." He trusted Sam to be able to resist her. He had a girlfriend and as far as he knew Sam didn't partake in sleeping with the clients. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to doing some hull repairs." He doesn't flee, instead he turns and heads to get his work done hoping that'll be the end of it. He hoped that she understood that he wasn't interested. Though if he had turned to look at her face he would know that it wasn't over.
~?~
"Now we still have time for you to discuss catering, it's not a decision that you have to pick today, but the sooner you do choose the sooner we can make arrangements." Ken informed Carlos, next time he was going to insist that Charlie deal with him. Though at this rate they were going to make a fortune off this sucker. He glances up as the door to the store enters. "Excuse me," he says apologetically towards Carlos before putting on a smile. "Welcome to—"
"I want boating lessons with the hot mechanic." Santana commands, ignoring Ken completely and focusing on her dad who turns back to her with a fond smirk. She wouldn't call herself spoiled per se but her father hadn't ever exactly said no to her before. Why should he start now?
"Absolutely not."
Santana blinked, that was not what she had expected. "What do you mean no?"
"Your mother insists that if I tell you who you can't and can date then you'll probably end up dropping out of school, married to some biker after eloping because you ended up pregnant. I'm simply hoping that you find a nice man or woman at Yale who comes from a good family and has a future ahead of them. You don't want to marry an anchor. You'll end up divorced paying them spousal support."
Santana scowled, she hadn't been foolish enough to believe that her father liked any of her boyfriends or girlfriends. "I don't see how this has anything to do with me taking boating lessons from the mechanic. I mean he works on boats, he can probably knows his way around a boat, right?" She turns to Ken and narrows his eyes at him.
"Charlie is one of our more experienced sailors, however—"
"See, it's perfect. I want to learn how to sail and I want him to teach me. I have something to do until August—" Santana begins a smirk on her face.
Carlos turned his attention back to the computer where Ken was showing him the boats and pictures. "I am not paying for your newest fling. If you really want to learn how to sail, perhaps Mr. Tanaka here can give you a few lessons."
Santana glanced at the man that her man had suggested and she visibly recoiled at the thought. She didn't want to see him in a swimsuit. She didn't even want to imagine him with his shirt off. "Papi."
"Mija." Carlos responded in a mocking tone.
Santana folds her arms over her chest. This is ridiculous. "You know that even if you say no that I'm just going to do it anyway." He should know by now that he has never gotten anywhere by just telling her no. It's something he's proud of, something she knows based on how frequently he brags about it to his country club cohorts. She knows what she wants and she has always done whatever it took to get it.
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Carlos retorts and Santana curses the fact that her dad can sometimes be nearly as stubborn as she is.
"I'm eighteen." She stresses. "You can't just tell me no like I'm some little kid anymore. I'm an adult and I want boating lessons from the mechanic."
"You're barely eighteen and if you want lessons you aren't going to get them with the mechanic as long as I am paying for them." Carlos insists. He isn't about to give in on this, especially when his daughter is destined for better. Buying her 'lessons' would be like buying his daughter sex and that is one line he's not willing to cross. Not even for Santana. He still liked to believe that his little girl had never been defiled by the idiots she brought home.
"That's not fair."
"I don't care." Carlos declared.
Santana threw up her hands with a groan of exasperation and spun on her heel, storming out of the shop without a backward glance. How dare he? First, he's going to cart her off to snooze-ville so that she misses every summer party around and then he's going to try to keep her from having even a little bit of fun? Maybe if she got her hands on his phone they could start something up; a few risqué pictures and she would probably have this guy eating out of the palm of her hand.
"Look, Charlie's a bit of a lightweight, all we need to do is buy the first round and then the next three are on him."
"The beer at Foggy Goggle is like three bucks for a pitcher. And honestly, I doubt he's a lightweight cause even when we do get him drunk and he offers to pay for drinks, he always reminds the barkeep to go for the cheapest shit they have."
Santana paused and immediately pulled out her phone to look for information on the Foggy Goggle noting that it was a bar nearby. It was perfect, her father might not be willing to shell out for sailing but she had a car and her parents had stopped caring about a curfew the moment she graduated. She could work with this, and it's not as if they would turn her away because of her age, it was a restaurant and bar. Though she certainly couldn't go alone. No from what she had gathered it would be a group of guys who would probably be distracted by some equally beautiful women. She smirks and discretely snaps a photo of the two guys in red shirts walking, before she started texting. The quickest way to single him out was to distract all his co-workers with beautiful women, and she knew just who would help her in her quest. And they had all been cheerleaders—it was perfect.
~?~
Charlie nurses his beer as Sam lines up his shot. Sam doesn't have a chance and he's pretty sure that Sam knows it. Nobody can beat Charlie at pool, other than the boatyard there isn't a place he knows better. "Are you going to take a shot yet or do I need to wait for the end of the summer before my next turn?"
"Ha ha." Sam scowls, trying to line up his pool cue for the perfect shot. Charlie was just lucky and he was two balls away from clearing the table. "What ever happened to 'take your time Sam' or 'it's all about geometry'."
"Well yeah," Charlie chuckles, "But that was back when I didn't realize that you were hopeless."
Sam hits the cue ball hard, certain that he's lined himself up with a winning shot. His glee turns to dismay when he scratches, sending the cue ball into the side pocket. "What? No! Not again."
"It's all about geometry." Charlie laughs and lines up his shot. He's not drunk enough to lose to Sam, but at least Sam is putting up a valiant effort. He glances over his shoulder and confirms that Jake is gathering the next round. Foggy Goggle isn't a big bar and it's generally out of the way of the upscale vacationers. It's one of the reasons he loves it here apart from its decent seafood. He generally doesn't have to worry about running into client's or potential future customers. He can just relax and have a good time while drinking the other guys under the table. They idiotically thought he was a light-weight.
"Drink up since Charlie's still paying." Jake grins, setting the new mugs down on the corner of the table. "I convinced Will to give us the good stuff."
Charlie rolls his eyes. Will's version of the 'good stuff' was still crappy ass cheap beer. "Drink up because the next round is on you." He barely glances at the door that swings open to let in a couple of overdressed underaged girls. They look around and Charlie shakes his head before picking up his next beer. He lines up his next shot winning the game with ease. "Fatality."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Alright I'm out. Let's get some food and then I need to head home."
Charlie nods and is about to say something when he notices that half their group is gone, like moths to a flame. They were already talking with the clearly underage teenage girls. There went their bonding time. He was probably going to remind them that it didn't matter how beautiful these girls were. They probably had powerful fathers who would love to make their lives miserable.
"Don't look so upset, there's enough of me to go around." A familiar face slides up beside him. It's the girl who had harassed him earlier about sailing lessons and he wasn't amused. "Hey, Charlie."
Charlie frowned, he was sure he hadn't given out his name. He didn't even know her name. "Hi. The table is yours if you want it," he said offering her the pool cue.
"And what about you?" Santana flirted shamelessly.
"I've got to be heading home anyway." Charlie shrugs.
"No, I mean—" Santana trails her hand down Charlie's arm, leaving no question as to her intention. "Are you mine if I want you?"
Charlie frowns and takes a step back. She's hot, sure, but she's not worth the headache of dealing with her rich father and the complications it could cost him. "I don't think so. Sorry, but I'm not a pedophile."
"How old do you think I am?" Santana pulls her hand back, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Her former underlings were watching. This was not how she had planned this.
Charlie studies her carefully, his eyes travelling her body till he meets her eyes. "Fourteen?"
"Four—fourteen? Are you kidding me?" Santana sputtered looking at him like he'd grown another head. Fourteen? She takes a deep breath and tries not to take offense. Insulting him is only going to make the seducing part all the more difficult. "I'm eighteen."
"What? You're like all—teenybopper." Charlie shakes his head. "No. I don't believe it."
She reaches into her clutch and grabs her real ID to show it to him.
"Oh. Barely eighteen, congrats I guess? Happy belated birthday?" Charlie shrugs and places the cue on the table. "Like I said tables yours if you want it." He turns to notice that some of his guys were at the bar. Of course, they'd try and weasel out of buying the group drinks but some pretty girls showed up and they were all over that. "Will, they're all underage. It'd be a travesty if this place lost its liquor license." When his guys groan and shoot him dark looks he shrugs. "Jailbait is still jailbait."
Santana snaps her ID back, ignoring the outraged glares from her former minions. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm a responsible citizen." Charlie shrugs. Though if he was being honest he couldn't afford to lose any guys because they couldn't keep it in their pants. It might also affect business. Plus, he liked the Foggy Goggle, he could walk towards it from his boat.
Santana grits her teeth. She hates when cocky assholes have the upper hand but this time can't help but feel wildly attracted. "Sure, you are. Just like I'm a girl scout." She shakes her head to get herself back in the game. "Whatever, look, how about I play you for it?"
"For what, exactly?" Charlie smirks, humoring her. There's not much he wants from an entitled heiress, but he's already impressed that she hasn't stormed out of here on having her plan thwarted.
"If I win, you give me boating lessons for free."
"They aren't boating lessons, they're sailing lessons." Charlie rolls his eyes. Any yahoo with a driver's license could figure out how to drive a boat. Sailing was far more complex. Though even if he did somehow manage to lose he was sure a 'boat safety' class might just change her mind.
"Whatever." Santana waves away the distinction. "If you win, well—" She smirks suggestively, "I'm sure you can think of something."
Charlie raises a brow, "Well, I was thinking I could have someone clean all our boats and yachts this weekend. Let Jake over there have the weekend off." Charlie tilts his head at Jake who grins. "And by someone, I mean your entire entourage."
"Santana—"
"Shut-up Kitty." Santana snaps at her, this wasn't what she had in mind. "Fine, but I changed my mind on what I wanted. If we win, you guys throw us a huge party on one of those fancy yachts of yours. With all of you guys serving us. We want the full package, I don't care what you have to say to your boss. That's what I want, with you guys serving us in swimwear. That includes you too. Mr. I'm just a mechanic."
Charlie raised a brow it was a bold request, a costly one as well. He extends his hand. "Deal." He smirks and turns to Jake and the rest of the guys. "Guess we won't have to be cleaning down those yachts this weekend."
Santana scowled, "By the way did I mention that this underwear will be provided by us? I hope you enjoy speedos. Yours will probably be a size too small for my pleasure of course."
Charlie shook his head and quickly begun to rack up the next game. He normally wasn't the sort who liked to see girls cry, but in this case, nothing would be sweeter. He finishes and hands her a cue. "Ladies first."
Santana smirks and takes it from him, walking by him and studying the table carefully. All she needed to do was win and she'd be one step closer to getting a distraction for the summer. She takes careful aim knowing that all eyes are on her as she sets up for the break. She hits the cue ball dead in the center watching as it shoots out striking the rest of the balls. Immediately they start to ricochet around the table and she grins when the 14 ball drops into one of the pockets. "Stripes."
Charlie nods as he ran his fingers along the tip and studied Santana carefully and then the table, the table certainly didn't look good at least for her, which meant that this was going to be like taking candy from a baby. She misses her next shot and scowls at him. "Well, the boats are absolutely revolting after some of the parties. The used condoms are the worst, isn't that right guys?" There's raucous laughter from the guys as he lines up to take his shot. 1 ball, left upper corner pocket, he could follow that by going for the three ball, if he aimed it right then he could go for the six ball and then—Charlie's eyes widen as he shoots the ball, scratching. He immediately turns to Santana and narrows his eyes at her. She had totally just molested him.
"What a shame," Santana said in a mocking tone as she bends over the table and aims making sure he can get a look at her ass. Suddenly she feels a body draped on her back and her eyes widen, he smells like grease and sweat.
"Play fair, or this little contest is off," Charlie mumbles in her ear before pulling himself off her, he glances at his staff and shrugs his shoulders. He had felt her breath catch, felt her squirm against him she was distracted. His plan works as she scratches the ball. "Shame," he drawls.
Santana flushes a deep red and turns to him, she hadn't really pegged him for the dickish type, but here he was and she sort of liked that. The cockiness and confidence was attractive to her. "Fine."
Charlie nods and looks back at the table. He didn't trust her as far as he could throw her and while he didn't mind throwing a game here and there, he wanted this one to be over. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly before opening them and taking a better look at the table in front of him. All he needed to do was keep pocketing the solids till he could put the eight-ball in the pocket. He begins to work the table, each shot going exactly where he wanted it to go. First the one-ball, then the three-ball, followed by both the five and the seven ball being pocketed. He sniffs and looks at the horrified look on Santana's face. "You really didn't think this through, did you?" He asks before sinking the seven ball. There's just the two and the eight-ball left. "You can quit now and—"
"No," Santana interrupts despite the glares she was getting from her girls. They were going to stay the course. She wasn't going to play chicken if they had to clean up some boats they were going to clean some boats and then she'd come up with an even better idea to get what she wanted. The lot of them were extremely attractive and victory would taste so much sweeter. "I'm going to make you wear a little bow tie, and dance for me. Maybe I'll even make you wear a funny hat too."
Charlie rolled his eyes and bent over the table once more. He didn't want to be cruel, and demand maid outfits, mostly because he didn't want to pay for it and it seemed to be a bit much. He wasn't completely sure they were of age to begin with. Santana maybe, but the rest? If his staff were going to do it then he needed to make absolutely clear that they were to be carded, anything that looked fake meant that girl was off-limits. "Two-ball." Charlie called letting the ball hit one of Santana's and ricochet off to smack in the two-ball. "Last chance."
Santana swallowed, this had been a costly mistake and it was the last time she'd ever make it but if they left now they wouldn't be able to show their faces. They probably thought that they were some rich prissy little girls that couldn't handle themselves. Some of them were rich prissy little girls that couldn't handle themselves, but she wanted to party on a damn yacht and get waited on hand and foot by Charlie. To see the look on his face—
"Santana. We can—"
"I already said no Kitty, if you want to leave you can leave. But when we eventually get our party boat you're not invited." Santana snaps at her. "Go ahead."
Charlie studies her for a moment, before bending over and draining the shot. There were loud whoops from the guys, cleaning up the yachts and dealing with refuelling was a bit of a drag so having other people do it while they supervised was a reward for them. Though he honestly didn't think that they were going to show up. He eyes Santana who looked mildly annoyed at the outcome. "I suggest, wearing something comfortable and practical, no high-heels or flip-flops. Also, be at North Sails by nine am sharp. It's going to be a long day."
Santana gritted her teeth at the smug look on his face as he put the pool cue down and stretched out. It's only when his shirt rides up does she remember why she was doing this. A body to die for, though if he had a tiny dick under those damn pants of his she was going to be so pissed. His feet looked big though and so did his hands so there was that.
"Well this is a drag, let's go somewhere fun—Santana?"
Santana tilts her head to look at Bree who looks like she's about to have a bitch fit and waves at Charlie before deciding to leave with the rest of her girls. "So, we lost this battle that doesn't mean anything—"
"We're not actually going to clean up their boats, are we? You can't be serious they're not even that hot." Bree hisses at Santana.
"Of course, we are, unless your dad wants to spend thousands of dollars on a damn yacht party boat. We just lost a battle, it'll cost us and we'll get better. Besides it's not as if we haven't cleaned cars before. This will be easy. They think they've got the upperhand. But I think most of them are idiots anyway so we probably won't have to lift a finger." Santana insists.