Have you ever had a rash?

 

I’m talking one of the bad rashes. You know, the crusty kind that ooze puss and fester under the surface of your skin? The kind you gotta see a doctor for.

 

Well, I’ve got a rash. It’s a bad one.

 

And her name is Erika Wild.

 

I’ve been told I can’t pick at my rash. I can’t cuss at it either.

 

Fuck. That. Shit.

 

So when I was coerced into a last-minute getaway on a billionaire’s luxury mega yacht wedding extravaganza, sans my rash, I thought, why the fuck not? What could go wrong?

 

What could go wrong?

 

The answer to that, my friend, is--everything.

 

A poisoning. A murder. A Drunk overboard.

 

If this yacht would’ve been a train, we’re talking Drunk on the Orient Express type shit.

 

Consider this your official invitation to attend the Boomer wedding fiasco of the year. Where everyone is a suspect.

 

Join me and Al for more Caribbean-flavored adventure as we untie the knots on this nautical mystery. Full steam ahead!