Chapter Text
Stede shuffles past the floor-to-ceiling windows of the terminal with his camera in hand, snapping pictures of the ocean liner docked outside as he goes. He joins the back of the line of guests leading to the check-in counter and cranes his neck to observe the large golden sculptures that are suspended above him. They look like boat propellers.
The cruise terminal is brand new, and a vast improvement on the last terminal the Badmintons constructed; it had felt unwelcoming and cold, with its corporate gray carpet and uncomfortable chairs for guests to sit in while they waited to board the ship. This one feels warm, with blue and orange hues painted on the walls and plush armchairs. The winter sun streams in through the tall windows, bathing the terminal in soft light.
The staff member behind the check-in counter beckons Stede over to have his boarding ticket scanned.
It's been a long time since he took a Badminton cruise. To be fair, he didn’t think he’d ever set foot on one of their ships again, not after the article he had written about the last one for his travel magazine nearly put them out of business for good. In the end, it only knocked them down a few pegs until they managed to find angel investors who were more than happy to throw enough money behind the Badmintons’ idea to cruise around the world. They built a new terminal and a new boat under a new name – the Badmintons were back from the dead, about to set sail on the maiden voyage aboard the Riptide.
Stede is handed back his boarding pass and a key to his stateroom before being ushered down the bright hallway leading to the ship. An enthusiastic photographer attempts to wave Stede over to take a commemorative picture in front of a small model of the ship. Stede imagines the picture of him standing alone with the model, displayed on screens above the photo counter onboard the ship surrounded by pictures of smiling families and groups of friends, and politely declines.
I’m here for work, he reminds himself as he steps through the sliding glass doors at the end of the hallway and into the chilly winter air. And to get away, a smaller voice in him adds.
He was supposed to be taking this trip with his family – his wife and two kids – before, well–
Before I blew everything up.
Stede shakes his head at the thought and steps onto the ramp leading up to the portside of the ship.
Ever since this cruise was announced, Stede knew he would go on this trip, knew he would be the one tapped on the shoulder. He hadn’t been sent out into the field to write in years – not since he was promoted to COO of Sun and Sea and started making the assignments himself – but after the success of his last piece about the Badmintons, he was the obvious choice. He had not been kind in that last article, he can admit now that the dust has settled. But it’s not his fault the Badmintons don’t know how to put on a good cruise, or that their decor was abominable.
The article went viral. ‘Scandalous,’ people called it. After its publication, the travel magazine received an influx of new subscribers, Stede got promoted, and the Badminton cruise line went under soon after.
Stede quit his job after the divorce. It didn’t feel right to stay at Sun and Sea anymore now that his CEO (now ex-CEO) was also now his ex-wife, Mary.
He began working freelance, picking up odd jobs here and there and feeling emptier and emptier with each location he was sent, knowing he would come home to a desolate apartment at the end of the day.
So when Mary called Stede and asked if he would still be interested in embarking on this cruise and writing the piece for Sun and Sea freelance, he quickly agreed.
“Really? Are you sure? I mean, it’s nine months–”
“Really, Mary, I would love to do it,” Stede said, bolting out of his chair. The idea of being out on open water, being away and not having to come home to his depressing apartment for an extended period, filled him with vigor.
Mary exhaled. “I’m glad to hear that. We booked the stateroom ages ago, as you know, and we’ve already passed the cancellation period, and I was so worried that after everything–”
“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, before he had to listen to the words come out of her mouth. He didn’t think he could handle hearing them. “I’ll take the job.”
“We’ll pay you well, of course. And you’ll have the whole stateroom to yourself, which I’m sure will be nice. Plus,” she continues, gently, “I think– I think it could be really good for you. To get away for a while and really dive into your work.”
Stede couldn’t agree more.
He steps onto the ship and takes in the central atrium of the Riptide. His eyes sweep over the two grand staircases in the center of the room, curving up to connect to the decks above. The white marble floor stretches out beneath his feet as far as he can see, reaching all the way to the edges of the tall glass windows on either side of the ship, lined with a row of colorful chairs and couches. Between the twin staircases is a glass elevator, leading all the way up to the top deck. He admires the delicate brass engravings of various sea creatures bracketing the elevator shaft before dipping his head back to look up at the chandelier. It’s a beautiful golden sculpture, with crystal and orange blown glass dangling several feet below the soft lights. He brings his camera up to his eye when someone grabs his elbow and pulls him to the side.
“Bonnet,” a familiar voice croons. “So good to see you again, old chum.”
Nigel Badminton releases Stede’s arm and extends his hand with a forced smile. He looks exactly how Stede remembers him – long blonde hair pulled in a low ponytail behind his neck and wild eyes. His name tag says he’s the Cruise Director. Great.
“Good to see you, too, Nigel,” Stede replies with a grin, shaking his hand. “Beautiful ship you have here. I’m surprised.”
The last Badminton liner was designed in the same uninspired way as the last terminal – cold and unwelcoming. But the inside of the Riptide is vibrant and colorful, brimming with life and drawing the eye naturally from one piece of décor to the next. This ship has taste.
Nigel laughs a little too loudly at Stede’s jab. “Oh, I’m so glad you approve, Bonnet. We hired a few lovely architects and designers to pull the whole thing together. We were very lucky to be able to raise enough capital to pull it off after your little stunt.”
Stede holds his gaze, widening his grin. “You know what they say, Nigel,” Stede leans in close, dropping his eyebrows. “All publicity is good publicity.”
Nigel laughs again, high-pitched and disingenuous, patting Stede’s shoulder with a little too much force. “Of course, how right you are!”
Stede takes half a step back from Nigel, gesturing with his camera as he says, “I am looking forward to discovering what you have planned to keep a whole ship full of guests entertained for nine months straight. Lots to see!”
Nigel steps forward, closing the space between them again. He is slightly taller than Stede, and he looks down his nose at him. “I do hope,” Nigel says quietly, “we won’t have a repeat of the last time you were on one of our ships.”
Stede scoffs at the threat and offers a polite half-smile. “Well, that all depends on whether or not your buffet gives me food poisoning again, doesn’t it?”
He turns on his heel and begins making his way towards the elevators, waving a hand goodbye over his shoulder. Nigel laughs as if Stede just told an incredibly funny joke.
—
Stede opens the door to his stateroom and stops in his tracks. To call it a stateroom is an understatement: this is a suite. He steps in, dropping his backpack and camera on the entryway table. He peers through the door to his left and finds a small bedroom, equipped with a full-sized bed, a small desk, and two large wardrobes along the walls. This would have been the kids’ room, he thinks before pushing the thought aside and proceeding down the hallway. The room opens into a large sitting area, furnished with what looks to be a very comfortable blue couch and a few chairs. On the other end of the living room is a large window and sliding glass door that look out onto his private balcony.
He shoves the door open and steps out. The balcony is, unsurprisingly, also huge, and equipped with sturdy, wicker deck furniture. He crosses the balcony to another glass door on the other side and slides it open. Stede steps into the primary bedroom of his suite, running his hand along the soft comforter settled on top of the large bed. On the other end of the bedroom is another big wardrobe.
“Good,” he says to himself. “At least I’ll have enough space for all my clothes.”
The luggage should be delivered while he’s at dinner. Stede silently thanks the Badmintons for having enough sense to hire bellhops to shuttle everyone’s luggage onboard – he honestly doesn’t know how he would manage to do it all himself.
The door next to the wardrobe leads to the bathroom, which has another door leading back out to the entryway. Stede circles around and plops down on the couch (it is, in fact, very comfortable), closing his eyes. Maybe he has time for a short nap before–
“Attention, treasured guests of the Riptide,” Chauncey Badminton’s voice crackles through the intercom in the ceiling. “This is your captain speaking. We are delighted to have you all aboard our ship. At this time, all passengers are required to make their way to their designated muster stations for the mandatory safety drill before we set sail. I repeat, at this time, all–”
Stede rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing his notebook and camera on his way out the door.
—
“Avast, ye!”
Stede arrives at his muster station just as a Scottish man is shouting over his clipboard. A seagull swoops down and perches on the railing beside the man.
“My name is Mr. Buttons, and this here is Karl,” he gestures politely to the seagull. Stede furrows his eyebrows before slowly raising his camera. “I will be leading the safety drill today,” Buttons continues. “I’m to do a headcount before we begin. Say ‘aye’ when I call yer name!”
Buttons leads the muster drill with great enthusiasm, emphasizing what Stede suspects are unapproved additions to the standard safety guidelines, such as ‘We must love the sea as she must be loved and she will take care of us in return’ and ‘Moon-bathing will occur, even during an emergency situation’.
“And remember the three no’s of sailing aboard this vessel,” Buttons shouts. “No climbing the railing, no public indecency, and no crew members-only areas. That’s a surefire way to get yerself booted off the ship in no time!”
Once Buttons dismisses them (well, not so much dismisses them; more like Buttons begins talking animatedly with Karl the seabird all of a sudden and seems to forget the rest of them are there), Stede makes his way to the restaurant for dinner. There are a few sit-down restaurants on board, with guests on a schedule to rotate between them each night for some variety. Tonight’s dinner is at the Italian restaurant.
“Bonnet,” Stede tells the host at the entrance of the grand restaurant.
From here, he can see another large chandelier, velvet dining chairs, and white linen tablecloths. Stede glances down at his clothes, fearing he may be underdressed in his khaki shorts and blue polo, before remembering this is a cruise ship.
“Ah yes, Mr. Bonnet,” the host replies, looking up from their tablet. “Just one?”
“Yes,” Stede says. “Just me. Just one.”
The host taps away at the tablet again.
“Of course,” they say finally, gesturing with their arm outstretched towards the dining room. “Please follow me.”
Stede is shown to a table with four place settings, and he takes the seat with his back towards the entrance to the restaurant so he can face the windows. The sun lowers towards the horizon, casting the dining room in warm, golden light. Stede looks out at the shimmering sea as the ship carries them away from port.
I made the right decision, he reminds himself. It’s good to get away. Experience new things. This will be good-
“Here you are, gentlemen,” he hears the host say behind him a few moments later, derailing his train of thought.
Stede turns around to see two men walking up to his table. One – young, with short, dark hair, a beard, and a red handkerchief tied around his neck – takes the seat to Stede’s left. The other – older, with a shaved head and his biceps on full display (at the dinner table) – takes the seat across from Stede.
“Wait, I think there’s been some kind of–”
“Hi,” the young man says, holding a hand out towards Stede. “I’m Lucius.”
“Yes, hi–”
“And I’m Pete. His husband. We’re married.”
Stede gapes at the two of them. Slowly, he raises his hand to shake Lucius’. “Stede Bonnet.”
“Yeah, sorry about this,” Lucius says, opening the wine list. “Sometimes they sit groups together to save table space. You know how it goes.”
“Right.”
Stede does not know how it goes. Every cruise he’d ever been on before was with his family, and the four of them always got their own table at dinner. He glances around the restaurant and notices there are no tables-of-one or tables-of-two. Hell, there’s barely any tables with less than five or six settings.
“So, what brings you here, then?” Lucius asks absently. “Mid-life crisis?”
Stede frowns. “No! I’m here on business, actually. I’m writing an article.”
“Oh, love a writer. I’m a strong writer myself, actually.” Lucius sets the wine menu down and places a hand on top of Pete’s across the table, resting his chin in the other to look at Stede. “So go on, then – written anything I may have read?”
“Well,” Stede says, “I suppose the most popular piece I’ve written was about the last Badminton cruise–”
“Shut up!” Lucius’s mouth twists into a delighted grin. “That was you? Oh my god, it was so bitchy. Love your work.”
“Bitchy?” Stede retorts. “I got food poisoning! My family and I had to end the cruise early because I needed to go to the hospital! I was just being truthful.”
“Sure, but you could have ruined their careers forever,” Lucius says. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I loved it, but you really went for their throats.”
“Well, no bad press and all that. Apparently,” Stede shrugs, gesturing to the ship around them.
“Hello, travelers!” A man with long blonde hair pulled in a tight bun on top of his head stands beside their table. “I’m the Swede. I’ll be your waiter on this lovely cruise,” he says in a sing-song voice.
Lucius turns his attention towards the Swede. “Hi,” he coos. “Can we get a bottle of Dom, please?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll bring an ice bucket and a little baggie so you can save the cork. How many glasses?”
“Three,” Lucius smiles. Before Stede can interject, the Swede nods and dashes off.
“Dom? What’s the occasion?” Stede asks.
“Oh, it’s our honeymoon,” Pete chimes in with a smile, squeezing Lucius’ hand. “We’re going to make so much love, you won’t even believe it.”
Stede flushes. “Right. Good!”
He considers the couple before him – in love, holding hands at the dinner table in front of a complete stranger. Stede glances around the dining room again and spots large families and elderly, well-dressed couples. He spots tables of 20-somethings, overly dressed in heels and suits for the first night on a cruise ship before anyone’s luggage has arrived at their rooms yet. He knows this crowd, been around them all his life. Trust fund kids, old money, descendants of multi-billion-dollar media conglomerate CEOs. It’s a crowd that has never accepted him. Really, they’re to blame for how long it took Stede to accept himself. How many decades of self-doubt did he have to wade through before he was certain enough to approach Mary about it, to blow up his whole life about it? Stede is almost 50. Maybe this is a mid-life crisis.
He is thankful, at least, that Lucius and Pete don’t seem to be like the rest of the dinner crowd. Stede imagines an alternate universe where he was sat at a table with snobby executives, looking down their noses at each other while they make stuffy conversation, and shivers.
The Swede returns with an ice bucket, three champagne glasses, and a bottle of Dom Perignon.
“This is the 2004,” he says cheerfully, holding the bottle across his forearm to show the table. “Very special.”
The Swede twists off the cork with a pop, pours champagne into the three glasses on the table, and settles the bottle into the ice bucket before leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The three clink their glasses together and take a sip, Pete leaning over to give Lucius a quick peck on the cheek. Stede settles his flute back on the table.
“So, where’s your family?” Pete asks. “Were they worried about getting poisoned again?”
“Not exactly,” Stede replies tentatively. “I’m actually recently divorced.”
“What happened?”
“Well,” he takes another sip of his champagne, steeling his nerves before speaking again. “I finally realized that the reason our marriage wasn’t working was because I’m gay.”
“Oh my god,” Lucius says. “And you didn’t know until recently?”
“Ah, not exactly. I–”
“Oh my god,” echoes Pete, casting a sympathetic look at Lucius.
“So this trip, then, is like a form of esca–”
“No.” Stede feels his ears warm in embarrassment. He places both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes. “Please, can we not? I’m here on business, it’s not like that.”
“Okay, businessman,” says Pete.
“And since I am here on business,” Stede continues, dropping his hands from his face but keeping his eyes on the table, “I need to experience everything this ship has to offer.”
“And not, like, in an avoidance sort of way?” Lucius asks, scrunching his nose.
“In a work way,” Stede quips. “Look– this is my first time on a cruise alone, and I’m used to always doing whatever the children wanted to do. I have a duty to write this article, but I don’t exactly know where to start. So, if you have any recommendations–”
“Have you heard of Blackbeard?” Pete practically shouts the question. Stede finally looks up from the table.
“I heard he was on the ship, but I don’t know any of his music,” Stede says.
Pete’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, seriously? He’s performing tonight at Jackie’s! You should come with us! He’s like, probably the greatest musician of our generation,” Pete continues. “I saw him perform once. It was really cool.”
Lucius leans close to Stede and whispers, “Pete’s a bit of a Blackbeard fanboy.”
“Oh, so appreciating a genius makes me a fanboy?”
Lucius rolls his eyes. “Look,” he says to Stede. “We’re going to Jackie’s after dinner to watch Blackbeard perform. You should come.” Stede frowns slightly. “You know, since you need to experience everything on the ship. For work.”
Stede sighs and considers the couple before him again. Pete is shooting a half-offended look at Lucius for being called a fanboy, but it is peppered with affection.
It could be good, Stede supposes. For work.
He watches Lucius lean across the table to kiss the frown right off Pete’s lips, and he releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
“Alright, I’ll join you.”
—
Jackie’s, as it turns out, is not just a bar, but a nautical-themed bar. Stede snaps a few pictures of anchors hung up on the wall along the entryway. His palms feel slick, and he drops his camera to hang on the strap around his neck to wipe them on his shorts as he enters the bar proper behind Lucius and Pete.
It’s… quaint.
Actually, he thinks to himself, it’s not half bad.
The design team somehow managed to toe the line between tacky and tasteful with the sepia pictures framed on the walls alongside various flags and old trinkets. The bar feels like a cozy dive, with its wooden walls and dim lighting. Stede makes a mental note to look up the interior designers of the Riptide the next time he can connect to the internet.
The ship glides beneath them easily now, having broken away from the choppy waves near the port and made its way out into the open sea. Stede feels a little steadier on his feet as he makes his way to the bar top and slides on to one of the stools.
“First round is on us,” Lucius says quickly. “We’ll be back, you just hang tight!”
He gives Stede’s shoulder a friendly pat before grabbing Pete’s hand and dragging him to the other end of the bar. Stede watches Lucius slide onto a barstool next to a man with a long white beard and a studded headband resting above his eyebrows. Lucius makes eye contact with the stranger, places his chin in his hand, and… bats his eyelashes? Stede can’t really tell from this distance. Pete sidles up to the other side of Lucius and nods at Stede from across the bar.
Stede replies with a weak smile, the realization dawning on him that they will not be coming back with the first round after all. Lucius places a hand on the stranger’s bare arm and squeezes. The man giggles.
Stede’s palms are sweaty again as he waves at the tall, white-haired man behind the bar. The bartender breaks away from his conversation with another gentleman at the bar top – well-dressed, in an embroidered maroon vest and curved boots – before making his way over to Stede.
“Hi, I’m Wee John,” the bartender says. “Welcome to Jackie’s. What can I get for you?”
Stede glances around, realizing he hasn’t even opened the drink menu. “Hello, Wee John! What do you recommend?”
“You should give him one of these, babe!” The handsome stranger in the vest shouts over, raising his glass.
Wee John looks back at Stede. “Right, would you like one of those?”
“Sure, that’ll be lovely,” Stede replies, decidedly unsure. He has no idea what the stranger is drinking but chooses to be brave. This cruise is all about experiencing new things, after all, and that journey must start at some point. Wee John nods and turns away to begin preparing the drink.
“Nose Juice,” Wee John tells him as he sets a tall cocktail glass down in front of Stede. “Jackie’s specialty.”
Stede furrows his eyebrows at the name but raises his glass at the stranger who recommended the drink before bringing it to his lips (“Cheers, my dears!” the stranger shouts at him).
It’s delicious, actually. Fruity and nutty and complex.
He sets the glass back down on the bar and glances at his watch – he’s only been here ten minutes and he’s already contemplating calling it quits. Instead, Stede takes his notepad out of his pocket, jotting down observations he might include in his article as he watches couples and small groups take seats at tables and booths around the room. He takes another drink of his cocktail and glances back across the bar top to see Lucius still clinging to the bearded stranger’s arm. The man giggles again as Pete shows off a tattoo on his bicep.
Stede puts down his pen and sighs into his glass, the familiar emptiness settling back into his bones. He doesn’t know what he was expecting; just, something. Maybe make a friend. Stede is finally surrounded by people, and he’s still alone. He probably looks pathetic. It doesn’t help that Lucius and Pete abandoned him as soon as they walked in the door. He sips up the last bit of his drink.
Oh god, what did he get himself into? He has to endure nine more months of this loneliness. For his first night of running away from his feelings, he’s not been awfully successful at it. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the waxy surface of the bar top, considering leaving before he has to endure further embarrassment.
Stede feels a presence settle into the stool next to him. His head shoots up from the bar.
His heart stops.
The man beside him is wearing black leather and an open expression, offering an easy smile to Stede. His long silver hair is pulled up halfway, save for a few loose strands left to hang around his face and bracket his warm brown eyes.
“Hi,” he says in a voice that sounds like pure velvet as he stretches out an arm in greeting. Stede’s eyes skate along his tattooed skin, down to his awaiting hand. His fingernails are painted a glossy black. “I’m Ed.”
Stede maintains enough sense to wipe a sweaty palm on his khakis before meeting him halfway. When Ed wraps calloused fingertips around his hand, it’s like a bolt of electricity jumpstarts Stede’s heart, blood rushing and thundering in his ears. The world narrows and expands all at the same time. Distantly, he hears himself choke out a very faint, “Hi. Stede.”
He looks across the bar to Pete and Lucius and their new friend, who are already staring back at him. Pete’s jaw is slack, and he makes to move around Lucius to walk towards Stede’s end of the bar top before Lucius grabs Pete’s arm and pulls him back. Lucius shoots Stede a look that he can’t quite decipher.
“Hey, Wee John, can we get two more, please? One for me and one for my friend here?”
Stede’s gaze is back on Ed as he leans over the counter to call out to the bartender. Jawline, is all he can think, observing the sharp cut of Ed’s chin under his neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard. Ed shoots him a sideways glance, lips twitching slightly into a small smile. Stede tries to swallow the heat he feels creeping up his cheeks.
“So, what brings you here, Stede?” Ed asks coolly, nodding his thanks to Wee John as two more cocktail glasses are set before them. Ed picks up his glass and raises it towards him. Stede taps his glass against Ed’s and takes a sip before setting it down on the bar top.
“Here to this bar, or here on this ship?” Stede interlocks his fingers tightly around his drink.
Ed chuckles. “Well, mate, I think I have a pretty good idea what brought you to this bar.” Ed seems relaxed as he says it, but it only serves to send Stede’s heart jumping to his throat.
“I’m here on business, actually,” Stede replies, steeling himself to meet Ed’s eyes. Ed looks at him with purpose, studying his face, deep brown irises pinning Stede in place. “What about you?”
“Business.” Ed’s gaze glides up and down Stede’s body. He feels like he’s been placed under a microscope. “Lemme guess, you’re a… photographer?”
Sheepishly, Stede looks down at himself and sees the camera dangling around his neck. “Ah, well, not exactly. I’m a freelance travel journalist. I was sent here to write a piece on the maiden voyage of this ship. The camera is just, you know,” he gestures towards his chest, “part of the job.”
“A writer, eh? They sent you on a job for nine months? Must be pretty good,” Ed’s eyes crinkle as he offers Stede another soft grin.
“Or really bad, and they’re trying to get rid of me.”
Ed laughs, and Stede sees a glint of something silver in his mouth.
Dear god, he has a tongue piercing. Christ alive.
“Suppose that means you’ll be keeping yourself pretty busy, having to see the sights and all that?”
“Yes, and all the onboard activities. All part of the work,” Stede replies, composing himself. He feels like he’s being terribly boring, feels the opportunity to keep talking to Ed slipping through his fingers as the seconds tick by. His mind races, trying to come up with a way to steer the conversation to something else, something interesting, something more, before Ed interrupts.
“Well, if you want, I could give you a tour. Of the boat, I mean. So you know where everything is and all that.”
Stede meets Ed’s eyes again, finds them swimming with some emotion Stede can’t quite put his finger on. The depth of them draws the words out of his mouth.
“Yes,” he says quickly, before blinking away, “I m–mean, I would like that. It would be good to know my way around.”
A sharp screech cuts through the air. Stede follows the sounds, turns in his chair to face the stage on the other end of the room where a man with a goatee and pompadour is tapping his fingers against a microphone.
“Sorry, mate, gotta go,” Ed says, pushing himself up off his barstool and patting Stede’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”
Ed is gone before Stede can get another word in. Stede stares at the empty barstool.
Lucius and Pete rush up behind him a moment later. “Oh my god, Stede, do you know–”
“Good evening, everyone,” the man onstage says into the microphone with a raspy voice. “Please put your hands together for the legendary Blackbeard.”
The crowd whoops as the lights dim further, and Lucius and Pete fall silent as they all turn to face the stage.
Stede watches as Ed hops up the steps to the raised platform, tugging on a one-sleeved black leather duster and pulling his hair out from the collar. Ed reaches down and retrieves a crimson acoustic guitar from its case before settling on top of a wooden stool placed in front of the microphone.
“I’m gonna play some songs for you lot, if that’s alright.” His voice is deep and rich as it sounds through the speakers around the bar.
Stede blinks.
“Wait, he’s Blackbeard?” He whispers urgently at Pete and Lucius.
“God, you are so lucky he talked to you,” Pete blurts. “What was he like? Did he tell you any secrets?”
“You mean you didn’t know? You had a whole ass conversation with him and you didn’t know?” Lucius adds incredulously.
“No! He told me his name was Ed! How was I supposed to know?”
“Because he’s fucking Blackbeard, dude!” Pete shoots back. Stede opens his mouth to reply before the sound of Ed’s guitar starts streaming through the speakers, accompanied shortly after by his crooning voice. Stede feels breathless as the crowd falls silent, giving Ed’s music space to fill the bar like liquid smoke.
Stede had always heard Blackbeard’s music was heavy and loud, with lots of percussion and screaming electric guitars – not exactly Stede’s style, which is why he never sought it out. But here, Ed’s voice is soft and raw, the music tentative and soothing. Stede asks Wee John for a glass of water, and he drinks deeply before getting up and making his way closer to the stage.
Warm yellow and purple lights reflect off Ed’s guitar as he strums, and he closes his eyes in concentration, head tilted back slightly as he hits a falsetto. Something about the soft lighting and the way the world stops to hear Ed’s music feels so intimate. Enthralled, Stede raises his camera to his eye, twists the lens, and snaps a picture. Ed spots Stede in the crowd and winks, and Stede bashfully lowers his camera.
Ed is enchanting onstage. The bar is watching him in awed silence, though Stede is only vaguely aware that anyone else on the planet even exists in this moment; it feels like it’s just him and Ed in the room, like Ed’s voice, sweet like honey, is zeroing in on him, honing in, tuning until they’re on the same private radio frequency that no one else can hear. Stede doesn’t know how long the set is, but his feet stay glued in place the entire time as Ed surrounds him, washes over him like a wave.
When the lights brighten, Stede feels the ship moving beneath his shoes again. He returns to his body and makes his way back to Pete and Lucius at the bar.
“Wow,” Stede exhales, eyes widening at Pete. “That was incredible! I can see why you’re such a fan!”
Pete shrugs. “It was alright. He only played covers. I was sorta hoping to hear some Blackbeard originals.”
“Mmm, maybe next time, my love,” Lucius pats Pete’s arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Stede sees Ed pulling off his jacket before bounding in his direction.
“Hey, babe, excellent set!” calls the man at the bar in the maroon vest. Ed gives him a high five as he passes.
“Thanks, Frenchie. Good to see you, mate. I’ll be sure to catch one of your shows soon! Need to hear that voice of yours in action,” Ed says quickly, snapping his fingers before course-correcting and heading towards Stede again.
“Ah, stop it,” Frenchie replies bashfully before turning his attention back towards Wee John.
“Blackbeard– uh, sir, that was amazing! You’re a genius!” Pete blurts out, practically vibrating next to Lucius as Ed approaches.
Ed offers Pete a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. “Thanks, mate, good to meet you.”
Pete meets the handshake enthusiastically before bringing his arm across his chest. “Look,” he says, pointing to his bicep, “I have a tattoo of you! I’m a huge fan of your work, sir.”
Stede peeks out over Pete’s shoulder to look at the tattoo. “Is it some sort of cloud, or–”
Ed makes an amused sound. “Oh, you got my beard tattooed on you,” he says, shooting a quick, knowing glance at Stede. Stede feels like his ears are burning. “Look at that! That’s really cool, man.”
Pete beams, and Ed pats him on the shoulder before stepping around him.
“Hi,” Ed says casually, leaning against the bar next to Stede.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re Blackbeard?” Stede sighs out a laugh.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Didn’t seem all that important. Still up for that tour?”
Ed pushes off from the bar and saunters towards the exit. Once he is out of ear shot, Pete turns to Lucius.
“Did you hear that, babe? He said my tattoo was cool!”
“Yeah, babe,” Lucius responds with a smile. “Great job.”
Stede jots down his stateroom number on the bill Wee John slides in front of him. He turns to leave, and Lucius calls out after him. “Have fun with Ed!”
He looks over his shoulder to find Lucius smirking and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “And be safe!”
Stede sighs and hurries out the door.
“You were amazing, by the way. Wow! I had no idea!” Stede says once they’ve exited the bar. Ed steers them down the hall, past a few other bars and several locked doors with ‘CREW MEMBERS ONLY’ signs posted on them.
“Thanks, mate, but really, ‘s nothing,” Ed replies, turning the corner to lead them down another hallway. “I’m not really into the whole cruise thing. They always want me to play covers to appeal to a larger audience. Feels kinda cheap sometimes, but it pays the bills.”
They reach a sliding glass door that deposits them onto the exterior of the deck. Stede keeps pace with Ed as they walk beside the railing. Ed gives him a sideways smile as the cool evening wind whips around them.
“This is the adults-only pool,” Ed gestures with a wave of his arm. “And through those doors on the other end is the spa. They do massages, facials– usual spa stuff.”
Stede makes a mental note as Ed continues leading them down the deck. “So is that normal, then? For people to have tattoos of your face? Or your beard? What’s that about?”
“When I was younger,” Ed says, “I used to have this big bushy black beard. Hence the name. It became part of the branding. Got tired of maintaining it and shaved it off one day. My manager was pissed, said it would ruin my image, but I didn’t give a shit. Did it for me.”
“Wow.” Stede glances sideways at Ed’s face, his chiseled chin and short beard. “I can’t imagine you with a big bushy beard.”
“I take it you weren’t a Blackbeard fan, then?” Ed leads them towards another set of sliding glass doors past the spa. They’re met with a warm gust of air as they step back into the interior of the ship.
“Well, I wasn’t before, but I certainly am now.”
Ed pauses and looks at Stede, eyes darting over his face before narrowing into a smile. Stede’s pulse jumps in his veins.
“Glad to hear it.”
—
By the end of the night, Stede has seen it all: the library (“Why are there bars on the bookshelves?” Stede asks, peeking in. “So the books don’t fly off during a storm, I guess.”), restaurants, shops, tennis courts. They see the theatre, a poolside seafood shack, the buffet, a coffee shop (“Orange You Glad is the best,” Ed nods towards the cafe. “Roach makes some damn good orange cake. Makes for an incredible breakfast.”).
“And this is the promenade,” Ed says as they stroll along the exterior of the ship again. “It wraps all the way around the boat. There’s a jogging trail here, so people might run you down if you’re not careful. Sometimes they have games out here, shuffleboard, y’know– boring stuff like that.”
“I see. And where are we going now?”
Ed grins. “To my favorite spot on the ship.”
Stede feels lightheaded from taking in so much information. The ship, beautiful as it may be, is huge.
“Thank you for showing me around, Ed. I feel like I would get lost every other day if you hadn’t,” Stede says.
“S’pose so, but I’m sure you would’ve figured it out eventually,” Ed hums. “Though, no offense, mate, I think you lot are a bunch of lunatics for going on this cruise. Nine months is a long time to be away from home.”
“I like to think of it more as an adventure,” Stede replies. “Besides, I don’t exactly have a home to go back to. Not really.”
They reach the bow of the Riptide and Ed rests his forearms where the railing comes to a point. Stede settles beside him, looking out at the moonlit water. The wind whistles around them here without the protection of the walls of the ship to shield them from it. Stede vaguely notices they are alone and suddenly can’t tell the difference between the sound of waves breaking against the hull of the boat and the roaring in his ears.
“No family?”
“Well,” Stede sighs, “an ex-wife. We got divorced only recently. It was my fault. And we have two kids, they– they stay with her. It’s for the best. Besides that, both my parents are dead. No siblings. So, it’s really just me.”
Ed tilts his head to look at him. Stede keeps his eyes fixed on the water and tries to take a deep breath.
This is good, he thinks to himself. Nine months will be good for me. And I’ve already made some friends. Stede turns now to face Ed. It won’t be so bad.
Ed reaches out and places a gentle hand on Stede’s shoulder. Stede feels incredibly warm under the touch.
“I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“No, don’t be,” Stede says softly. “I’ve got my work to keep me busy. There’s plenty to see and do.”
Ed smiles at him and squeezes his shoulder before dropping his hand.
Plenty of opportunity for distraction.