Chapter Text
Ken thinks this is one of the most boring places they’ve ever been.
It’s some little town on the Cape, somewhere the Astors and Rockefellers used to go before the invention of private jets. Dad’s meeting some investor here, a boring old New England type who still thinks ‘money’ means a shitty old townhouse on Beacon Hill.
Dad said they all had to go because the investor was a ‘family man.’ Ken hates that he’s burning a spring break on this; John Trenton’s family was in the Mediterranean, Timmy Gao’s friends were all at some resort in Cancun. Even Stewy got to go play with tiger cubs at his great-uncle’s compound.
And what did Ken get? A boring place and boring people, only 200 miles away from school, stuck on a boat with the kids.
And it was a boat, not a yacht. The investor had made a big deal about it when promising to take them out, but it only had a living room, a deck, and a few bedrooms below.
Ken had tried, last night, to tell Dad that he shouldn’t do business with this guy, that he clearly didn’t have enough money to be a player. He hoped Dad might listen to him, that Dad would be impressed, that he’d be able to go home.
But Dad had just looked at him sharply and said, “There are different kinds of money, Ken. Don’t interfere.”
So now they were all on the boat, had been sailing around for hours. Dad and the investor were on the deck talking business, and Ken was imprisoned in a bedroom below with his baby siblings.
They were playing some boardgame, arguing over it. Ken, laying on the bed, sniffed. They seemed like such children.
He hated being on boats this small. The roll of the ocean was making him sick.
“Play a round with me,” Shiv insists from the floor. “Rome cheats.”
“I’m not cheating.”
“Then why is the ship bent?”
“It was like this when I got it.”
“Liar!”
Ken rubs at his temples. “Guys can you be quiet for a minute?”
Rome looks up at him. “What, are you tired from your long hard day of doing absolutely nothing?”
“You’re just being loud.”
Shiv scoffs. “So?”
“So, it’s giving me a headache.”
“Duh, I have a headache, duh,” Rome mocks in a dumb voice. Ken throws a pillow at him, scatters the pieces.
Shiv makes an offended little noise. Rome laughs. “Okay, now you have to come play.”
“Why,” Ken groans.
“What else are you going to do, sit there and whine for the next two hours?”
Ken sits up a little. “We’re stuck for another two hours?”
Shiv nods primly. “At least.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I listen when Dad talks.”
Ken sighs. Might be good to distract himself from the nausea. “Fine. Set it up.”
He hopes Timmy Gao never hears that he spent spring break playing Battleship with his kid siblings. He’ll never hear the end of it.
But he pushes himself off the bed, helps pick up the pieces, takes Rome’s place on the floor.
He’d never actually played this game before. He knew about it from like…general life and pop culture. But Battleship wasn’t exactly high brow, or exciting. Never something he’d sought out.
Whatever. It was a kid’s game. He’d beat Shiv a few rounds, and hopefully by the time they were done the boat would be back at the dock.
Shiv beats him once. Twice. Three times.
“How are you getting so lucky?” Ken asks incredulously as they clear the board again.
His baby sister looks at him pityingly. “It’s not luck, it’s skill.”
“Come on, this game is pure luck.”
“Just remember the rows you’ve called before,” Rome pipes up from the bed, hanging upside down over one side. “It’s not hard.”
“If it’s so easy, you come do it,” Ken grouses.
Rome shrugs and rights himself, taking Ken’s place.
Rome beats Shiv easily.
“I’m with her now, you’re fucking cheating,” Ken insists.
“I’m not!”
“Check, see if any of his boats are diagonal.”
Rome turns his board around. “See, didn’t even use the bent one this time.”
Ken huffs. “Move Shiv, I want to play him.”
She raises her eyebrows, but lets Ken take her place.
Rome beats Ken twice.
Ken slams his hand on the floor. “Both of you are cheating.”
“No we’re not!”
“Yes you are, you’re trying to make me look dumb. Stop it.”
“Oh shut up, sore loser,” Rome says with an eye roll.
“I’m not-”
“Kendall,” comes a firm voice from the doorway.
Ken’s heart skips a beat. He turns.
Dad is standing in the door, the investor behind him.
“We are trying to have a conversation. We can hear you being disruptive down here.”
Dad’s voice is firm. Ken knows that tone. He’s upset, but doesn’t want to be too upset. Not until he gets them alone.
The investor laughs a little over Dad’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s no bother Logan. My grandchildren are always fighting over these games when they get bored. Why don’t we take them to the upper deck, give them some air?”
Something in Dad’s face changes. Ken can tell Dad’s concealing his fury, that he wasn’t finished with the conversation they were having above.
Ken has interfered with business. There is no sin worse than that.
Dad smiles. “Sure. In fact, pack up your game, bring it upstairs. Why don’t we give it some actual stakes?”
They all head up to the deck, Ken dreading every step. When they get there, Dad sits, directs Rome to start settling up the board.
“When I was young,” Dad said, “I’d play games with my brother in my uncle’s canoe. And whoever lost had to dive into the water and swim back to shore.”
Ken doesn’t know if that story is even true. He doubts it.
But it has the intended effect; the investor starts laughing. “Oh the things boys get up to. My cousins and I were just the same, always wrestling over one thing or another.”
Dad laughs along, a glint in his eye that Ken’s learned to dread. “So I say, we make this game interesting. You kids will play a few rounds. The winner gets an extra dessert when we get back. The loser has to take a dip in the ocean.”
Ken’s stomach drops. It’s starting to get dark, and this time of year the water is so cold-
But Rome’s done setting up the board, and Dad is guiding him towards one side of it, and honestly what can he do?
He just has to remember the spaces he’s called. It’s not luck, it’s skill. He can win.
The wind whips around the deck, piercing through his light jacket. He wishes he was home, wishes he was in bed.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Dad says to Shiv. “Let’s see who comes out on top.”
Shiv sits across from Ken, for a half second looks guilty. But then Dad squeezes her shoulder a touch, and she smiles up at him.
It’s humiliating how fast the first game is over. Shiv beats him badly. He can’t get his head together, too focused on the sound of the waves hitting the side of the boat.
“Romulus, come up,” Dad directs. “And let’s have a fair game.”
Regret is absolutely washed over Rome’s face as he takes Shiv’s spot. He resets the board slowly, hesitantly.
The game with Rome takes longer. Ken feels like he’s gaining ground, like he might have a shot.
Dad is leaning forward, watching the game with intensity. “Romulus,” he barks out suddenly.
Rome looks up, dread in his eyes.
Dad’s eyes are practically boring into Roman’s skull. “Play honestly. Don’t let your brother win.”
Rome slumps. A pit sinks into Ken’s stomach.
The game is over 5 moves later.
Dad claps him on the back good naturedly. “Well, Shiv and Romulus here will have to play for that dessert. But I’d say it’s time for Ken to take his swim, hmm?”
The investor laughs. “Tough break, boy. Let me get a life jacket-”
“Oh Ken here’s a strong swimmer,” Dad insists. “He doesn’t need a life jacket. Do you, boy?”
Ken gulps, but tries to hold his head high. “No.”
Something passes over the investor’s face for a second, but then he looks at Dad and keeps smiling. “Well then come over here. Get a running start, you can cannonball in.”
Ken shoots the investor a look, hoping he’ll catch that he doesn’t want to do this, hoping he’ll stop this.
“Come on now, son,” Dad says. “Jump in.”
Ken can’t see a way out of it.
He goes over to the side of the boat, looks out over the dark dark water.
He closes his eyes, and jumps in.
The water hits him like a truck, still cold from the winter and freezing him to the bone. He struggles his way to the surface, forces himself up from the dark.
When he breaks the surface, he gasps out, trying to treasure the air.
Ken hears his father’s laugh drifting over the wind. “You alright there, son?”
“Yeah,” Ken manages to answer with chattering teeth. “Yeah I’m good.”
There are more laughs from the deck, some chatter he can’t make out. He wonders if it’s okay for him to come back up.
Then the boat engines get louder, the water starts to churn, and pure terror seizes Ken’s heart.
“Wait, wait!” he cries out as the boat moves away. The wake surges up, splashing him in the face, getting in his mouth.
Oh god, Dad mentioned something about swimming back to shore. Is he going to have to do that?
He looks around frantically for light, sees nothing but the boat retreating away.
Old stories begin to circle through his mind; that freaky fairy tale his first nanny told about sea monsters, all those shark books Rome insists on bringing home from school.
Panic crawls up his throat. He looks again for the shoreline and sees nothing, no indication of which direction to swim.
He’s so cold.
Later, he will be told that the boat only circled for a minute or two before going back to get him.
A minute was a lifetime.