Sharkbait Down Under
Port Lincoln

It was great seeing my friends in the Three Sisters Pack, but we couldn’t stay long after the funeral.

It would be a full flight. I was flying out with Leo, Adrienne, Nicholas, Amy, Kai, Linda, Brent, and Olivia. My younger brothers, Mark and Chance, were flying out of Minneapolis with Midwest Chairman Lewis Wolfe, his mate Carolyn, Alpha Ivan, Luna Karen, and Amy’s younger brother, Luke. The twins stayed behind in Oregon; their boyfriends only had four more leave days, so flying to Australia was out. Alpha Steven wanted them to spend more time with the Pack before they could make the change. “We’ll have a big party when we’re back in the States again,” I told them. “Linda is going to have it on a private Internet channel. Honestly, with the date change, the cost, and the distance, I’ll be happy if anyone shows up.”

“We should be there for you,” Makani said.

“You have been there for me; after what just happens, I can’t take you away from your mates.” We had a teary goodby that night with them and the others.

Very early the next morning, we took our last flight in our borrowed aircraft to Los Angeles, and from there, it was a direct flight to Sydney. The business class seats were worth every penny. “Mom, you’ve been pretty quiet about the wedding plans,” I said as we sat waiting for takeoff.

“It’s all under control. After all, you ran off to the beaches and left Dorothy and me in charge!”

Uh oh. “We haven’t even had a fitting for my dress! And what about the bridesmaids?”

“It’s all under control.”

“Fine.” It was a little weird, me stressing about a wedding. I’d wanted to do everything BUT get mated when I came of age, so I hadn’t given it much thought. I nudged Nicholas. “What do you know about the wedding?”

“What Dad told me. Show up on time and sober, don’t screw up the vows, and give you a night to remember when we get to our room.”

I snorted. “So, nothing.”

He shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out where our honeymoon is. Leo told me it was their gift to us, so don’t worry.”

Was there ANY part of this wedding I’d know about before I got there? I texted Amy, who was two rows behind me. “What does my matron of honor know about the wedding plans? Have you seen your dress?”

“Show up and make sure you’re wearing waterproof mascara and no.”

“You’re no help.” I pulled out my computer and went to work. I had a TON of things in my inbox and on my phone; the Dateline interview had premiered late last night during the funeral. My publicist had proclaimed it a success, including links and excerpts from news stories and websites about it. Mercedes was very happy; the CEO’s decision to match my donation paid for itself in publicity and sales. The reward fund had grown to over ten million dollars already, as everyone from hourly workers to Hollywood elite donated to it and the other charities mentioned.

I watched the video stream of the interview, then read some of the stories about it. The feedback was almost all positive, and tips were flowing in.

I read a report Lynette sent to the Sharkbait Foundation Leadership. The Sea Scout was ready to go for the next season, with all the improvements we needed to film in the spring. Overhauled engines, revamped berthing, installed cameras, video editing capabilities, powerful computers, new electronics; it was like a brand-new boat. She had taken the survey vessel out for a shakedown in mid-December, taking along some of the researchers and advisors we had targeted for shows. They were all excited for the opportunity to work on the Sea Scout, praising its speed, stability, work area, and davit capacity. Now that they knew what our boat could do, they were going back to adjust their research plans accordingly. I sent her a response, telling her how thrilled I was with it, and asking the Foundation to see what the boat could help with until we could start filming in a few months. After the New Year, we’d have some videoconferences to plan out the next year.

I needed some time before the next Sharkbait World Tour.

I called a few other people while I was flying south. Stan Greenberg had been a busy man between the Discovery Channel contract and all the spending I’d been doing. “You might have told me you were donating a million dollars,” my accountant said. “Your donation is coming from Sharkbait Production Company, which you own. That way, we can deduct the full amount, and we aren’t taxed on the business income and again on your income. Plus, on personal income taxes, the deduction’s limited by the alternative minimum tax. At least you told me what you were doing instead of writing a check!”

“There’s been a lot going on, but I appreciate it.”

“I’m happy to have my client back again, Vicki. Now, about this marriage thing.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve taken steps to protect yourself?”

“My sex life isn’t any of your business, Stan.”

He laughed. “I mean financially, with a pre-nuptial agreement.”

“There’s no need for that, Stan.”

He paused for a moment. “Vicki, I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve talked to a lot of people getting married who didn’t think they needed one. Trust me, you do. If you’re deliriously happy and grow old together, the cost is nothing. Nobody expects their marriage to only last a few Khardashians, but it happens.”

“Khardashian?”

“Before your time. Kim Khardashian was a reality television star who had a big wedding leading to a marriage lasting 72 days. These things happen, especially with young, rich women. You’re young and rich, Vicki. You’ve know Nicholas for about a month?”

“I love him,” I said defensively.

“How many days have you spent with him, given your work schedule? Seven?”

“Or so.”

“Please, Vicki. Get a prenup done before you get married. Any family law lawyer can do it for you.”

“I’ll think about it.” I wasn’t going to do it, though. Stan didn’t understand the mating pull and was looking at me through a human lens.

“Good. What did you find out about the yacht?”

“The owner is not interested in shortening the lease period. When I told him we were considering not picking up the buy option, he got nervous. He dropped the option price to one-point-five million cash before January 31, four hundred thousand less than we previously agreed. I think he’s having cash flow problems. I told him I’d present it to you and get back to him.”

I was a little surprised at the development. I loved living on the yacht, and we hadn’t decided where we wanted to live yet. Maybe bringing the boat down and living off it for a while made sense? It would take about three weeks and cost fifty thousand dollars to get the yacht to Adelaide.

Nicholas had been listening in. “It’s an option we can consider, and we have a month to decide,” he said. “It would beat living above my parent’s garage.”

“I think we could afford an apartment.”

“You’re eighteen, and I don’t have a job. Who would rent to us?”

I nudged him and went back to the call. This year had a lot of income and expenses for Sharkbait Productions, and he made some suggestions for how we could move things around to limit our tax bill. Stan wanted to minimize my tax liability this year, expecting that the company would move to Australia next year. To make that work, we’d have to wait until after the New Year to give Discovery Channel the next set of edited television shows. That would give me time to screen and approve the second half of the season.

I spent the rest of the flight talking to my publicist and Mercedes about how we could leverage the coverage for more. Mercedes wanted to do another tour, but I flat refused. “I need to settle into marriage and a new country before I do any more traveling,” I said.

“If I can arrange something in Australia?”

“Perhaps,” I said. The pilot put on the seatbelt sign. “We’re landing soon, so I have to go. I’ll talk to you after the honeymoon.”

“Enjoy every moment, and I hope you enjoy your wedding present,” she said with a bit of tease.

“What did you do?”

“You’ll see. The Bodyglove family appreciates everything you and the girls did for us, and we wish you a Happy New Year.”

“You too, Mercedes. It’s been a wild ride.” She hung up, and I shook my head. Mercedes was yet another person who wasn’t letting me in on her secrets.

We took a shuttle from the regional airport to Los Angeles International, boarding an hour later. It was a fifteen-hour flight, landing the next morning, followed by a two-hour flight to Adelaide, and a forty-minute puddle jump across the bay to Port Lincoln. It felt like a step down with each leg; we started on a plush private jet and ended on a noisy twin-engine regional transport. In total, we were in airplanes or airports for a day and a half, plus we crossed the International Date Line. I was sore and tired when we arrived at the hotel in town.

I kissed Nicholas good night; he was going home while the girls were with me at the hotel until the wedding tomorrow afternoon.

I was glad it was a small wedding; Amy would be at my side, and his cousin Patrick would be at Nicholas’s side. Amy, Dorothy, Olivia, Adrienne, and Susan joined us at the spa in the morning. We were pampered and prepped, and then it was time to get dressed. “Here’s your outfits,” Mom said as she handed over the bags.

I looked inside. “Really?”

She just smiled and left Amy and me in the room. “I’m wearing a white bikini and a lacy white dress for my wedding?”

Amy looked in her bag. “You can’t have my ocean-blue bikini.”

What kind of wedding was this going to be?

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