“You know…” I approach him. He lifts his head, listening. But I don’t continue. I take a breath, let out a sigh, and…shoot out, shoving him hard in the chest. His eyes go big, he flails, and the next thing I know, he’s lost his footing and tips over the side of the yacht. “Shit! Fuck!” rings out as he plummets. His body hits the water ten feet down, a big splash as he disappears under the surface. I stare down and pop another cold cut into my mouth, chewing. Did he land on his shoulder? How do you land on your frickin’ shoulder?
