Salt to Taste

Three reasons Callum’s family is difficult. One: they do not speak; they broadcast. Two: they do not listen; they audit. Three: they view affection as a liability on the balance sheet. I knew this because I had spent three days memorizing the shipping routes of his father’s fleet and the marital history of his mother, preparing to be the pleasant, invisible accessory to their empire.

I stood on the aft deck of the *Aegean*, the salt wind tugging at the hem of my rented linen jacket. Callum stood beside me, pouring scotch from a crystal decanter that probably cost more than my annual rent. He didn’t ask if I wanted a drink. He poured two fingers into a clean glass and set it on the wet teak between us.

I took it. I drank it neat. I ignored the view of the moon hitting the water, which was my job, and focused on the silence, which was also my job. We were professional. We were polite. We were alone.