Free Winter Jacket: Finding Home by Eliza Lentzski Page B

to ease the discomfort in my stomach.
    A nautical-attired female stood at the end of the dock, holding a clipboard. She wore an altered version of the classic boat captain’s uniform—a white miniskirt that accentuated long, bronzed legs and a white fitted jacket whose gold, polished buttons looked ready to pop off her chest if she inhaled too sharply. Her straight, jet-black hair was tucked under a captain’s hat. I suspected she was only working the party, however, and not part of the board’s actual crew.
    Ruby red lips smiled at us as we approached. “Names, please?”
    Troian pulled her sunglasses off. “Troian Smith and guest.”
    The woman’s blue eyes scanned over the names on the clipboard. When she found what she was looking for, she nodded her head. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Smith and Guest.”
    The music was louder on the boat than it had been on the dock. The entire vessel seemed to hum and vibrate from the omnipresent bass. Cocktail waitresses buzzed around the first deck, teetering on dangerous skyscraper wedges and wielding serving trays of Jell-O shots and test tubes filled with colorful liquid. Everywhere I looked I saw bikinis tops that struggled to cover silicone-enhanced breasts and swimsuit bottoms precariously aloft too thin of hips. Between the bone-rattling bass and the semi-clothed women, my senses were overwhelmed.
    “It’s like I’m on an episode of the L-Word ,” I spoke directly into Troian’s ear. “Is this real life?”
    “No, it’s not. It’s Hollywood,” came her response.
    “This is so not my scene,” I muttered under my breath as two women in bikinis walked past us, arm in arm. I did my best not to gawk.
    “You think it’s my scene?” Troian said for only my ears.
    “Then what are we doing here?”
    “It’s the job,” she shrugged. “Kissing up to the network and all that.”
    I kept close to Troian’s elbow as we explored the multi-levels of the boat in search of the party’s hostess with no luck. I had no idea what Jane looked like, however, so I wasn’t much help.
    “I haven’t heard many good things about this Jane person.” I had been on set the entire week and had yet to meet the creative consultant, giving more credibility to Edward and Gloria’s complaints about her.
    “The network means well,” Troian defended. “And I get it; I’ve got lots of experience writing screenplays and television scripts, but I’ve never been a showrunner before. That’s where Jane comes in.”
    “I’m sure you’d able to figure it out on your own.”
    Troian stood on her tiptoes and tried to see over the heads of the party’s crowd. Most people were taller than her on a regular day, but with her in flip-flops, and the bikini glamazons in high-heels, it was more pronounced than usual.
    “Will you be okay for a minute?” she asked. “I can probably find Jane faster on my own.”
    I must have looked panicked because she clapped her hand on my shoulder. “Of course you’ll be fine,” she answered for me. “Get yourself a drink and enjoy the free eye candy.”
    “Okay,” I reluctantly agreed, “but I’m gonna need a cheeseburger after this. I’m getting hungry just looking at these girls.” Some of them looked like if they ate an ice cube you’d be able to see its rectangular outline through their taut skin.
    Once Troian abandoned me to hunt for Jane, I felt even more foreign and awkward. I didn’t know anyone else at the party and I had no need for small talk. In lieu of something to do, I stood near the railing on the second level and looked over the edge at the water.
    “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”
    I turned toward the sound of the voice to see an attractive woman with short brunette hair standing beside me. She wore a bikini top like myself and a loose, flowing maxi skirt that hid the shape of her legs.
    I nodded and smiled tightly.
    “I had no idea lesbians were so aggressive,” she said, fanning her face. “It’s like a meat