Reckless

by Devon Hartford

  He stepped carefully off the bed and helped me down. “I still can’t get over how fancy this yacht is,” he said. “It’s some kind of James Bond boat. I keep expecting Tiffany to strut in wearing a bikini, carrying a loaded harpoon gun like that Octopussy chick.”

  “What’s an octopussy?” Madison giggled.

  “Haven’t you seen that James Bond movie?” Romeo asked.

  “No,” Madison answered.

  “You mean Octiffany,” Kamiko suggested. “She totally has eight arms she uses to snare her unsuspecting prey and eat them alive with her toothy maw.”

  I think watching Adventure Time all the time had finally gone to Kamiko’s brain in all the wrong ways.

  Madison laughed. “Which maw?”

  “Ewwww,” Romeo grimaced. “You girls are gah-ROSS! But, what I want to know is,” Romeo giggled in anticipation of his own joke, “does she squirt black ink from her pooter or her pooper?” In one motion, he whipped open the cabin door and turned to face us.

  Kamiko’s mouth dropped open with a clank, totally unhinged.

  Madison appeared to suddenly throw up in her mouth, but held it in because she had too good a manners to barf on someone else’s boat.

  I goggled, fearing imminent execution. I think Madison, Kamiko, and myself were in too much shock to speak.

  Tiffany stood in the hallway, a few paces behind Romeo, holding a drink in her hand.

  How long had she been outside the door?

  Romeo blundered blissfully forward, completely unaware of Tiffany’s presence. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, having missed our collective horror. “I’m going with an ink-shooting pooter, because you know that girl has a hollowed out vaj. Plenty of room for extra ink. And mice. Her stench trench has seen so much action, it must be like a wind tunnel in that thing. What do they call that subway tunnel from England to France?”

  “The Chunnel,” Tiffany said stiffly from behind Romeo.

  “That’s right, the Chunnel,” Romeo chuckled, completely lost in his own mirth. “Tiffany’s fun tunnel could accommodate a high-speed train. What the—!”

  Tiffany’s drink dribbled over Romeo’s head.

  “You’re ruining my hairdo!” Romeo squealed, flicking fingers across his coiffed faux-hawk. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What is wrong with you, you nasty little man?!” Tiffany seethed victoriously. “You’re all wet now, Mr. Funnyman.”

  Romeo narrowed his eyes at Tiffany. “I would never hit a lady,” he said threateningly. “Luckily, you aren’t a lady!” Tiffany flinched when he raised his open hand in a quick jerky motion, but he merely smoothed his wet hair against his scalp.

  I repressed a disappointed sigh. I hoped sooner or later somebody would give Tiffany a good bitch slapping. It would have to wait.

  With confident panache, Romeo sucked the dribbles of Tiffany’s drink from his fingertips. “Is that a mojito?” he asked thoughtfully. “It could use more mint. This simply won’t do.” He carefully removed the highball glass from Tiffany’s fingers. “Let me get you another.”

  She was too stunned to object.

  Romeo arched his eyebrow suavely. “I’ll speak with the bartender and have him mix a proper one for you. Shaken, not stirred.” He motioned toward Kamiko, “Miss Moneypenny, help me find Q. He’ll know the correct ratio of gassed water to rum, I think.” He gave Tiffany a cordial beauty-contest smile and squeezed past her, heading toward the stairs, Kamiko in tow.

  Tiffany folded her arms across her chest and stared at me and Madison. “Your friend’s an ass.”

  I grabbed Madison by the hand and we slid around Tiffany. “And that’s why we love him,” I said to Tiffany with a smile before heading upstairs.

  On the main level, Romeo shook his head like a wet dog. Mojito droplets sprayed everywhere.

  From downstairs, Tiffany’s voice shook the ship, “What did you assholes do to my painting?!!!!!”

  “Take that, you twat-waffle,” Romeo muttered triumphantly. “Let’s go, ladies! Our work is done here!” Romeo said nervously.

  But there was no place to go beyond that except the cold ocean.

  Tiffany thudded up the staircase in her heels.

  “I don’t know about you ladies,” Romeo whined, “but I’m swimming for shore before Tiffany Scissorhands snips my balls off!”

  Chapter 5

  CHRISTOS

  Tiffany raged like a banshee in the main cabin.

  I would’ve been surprised by her behavior, but I knew her better. Tantrums were par for her course.

  Even when you knew it was nothing but theatrics, girl screeching grated on the nerves.

  Brandon happened to be standing next to me the moment Tiffany’s temper had gone thermonuclear. “What is it this time?” he scoffed.

  “She probably found out the bartender is making rum and cokes with generic cola instead of the brand name stuff,” I joked.

  “Yeah,” Brandon chuckled.

  “Where is that bitch!” Tiffany screeched. “She ruined my painting!”

  Brandon stuck his pinky in his ear, wincing. “Did you bring earplugs?”

  I laughed. “Sorry, bro.”

  “Maybe we should find out what’s wrong, and try to soothe this savage beast.”

  “Be my guest,” I said. If I’d learned one thing over the years, it was that Tiffany was never worth the trouble.

  “Hey, I’m thinking of everyone else,” Brandon said, patting me on the shoulder. “This is hardly what I’d call a joyous atmosphere. Care to give me a hand?”

  “If you insist.” I followed Brandon over to where Tiffany stood surrounded by her sorority entourage.

  “I can’t believe what she did!” Tiffany whined.

  Her sorority girlfriends hovered around her protectively and nodded mechanically.

  Brandon gave me a hesitant look. We both knew I had always been better at talking Tiffany off the ledge.

  “What’s wrong this time, Tiffany?” I asked with a blend of friendly compassion and parental amusement. I wanted to send her a signal that her childish behavior was off the scale.

  “Your girlfriend ruined my painting!”

  “What are you talking about?” That didn’t sound even close to possible.

  “You don’t believe me,” she accused. “Fine, I’ll show you.” She took a step forward and stumbled over one of her friends. “Move it!” Tiffany snarled, kicking past her.

  The young woman slunk away, eyes bulging in terror.

  Tiffany marched downstairs, surprisingly steady on her feet for how much I knew she’d drunk since the New Year’s countdown earlier.

  I followed, Brandon behind me. We ended up in the master suite of her yacht. It was her dad’s cabin. I’d hung my portrait of her in this very room myself, several weeks ago, when she’d told me about tonight’s New Year’s Cruise. I’d taken the opportunity to invite myself and some “friends” without telling Tiffany who I planned to bring. I’m sure it irritated the shit out of her to no end that I’d brought Samantha.

  Good.

  I believed Tiffany would mature as a person if she were forced to deal with more obstacles in her life than she had thus far. Especially recently. She’d become dangerously entitled in the last couple years.

  “Look at it!” Tiffany screeched at the painting. “It’s ruined!”

  “What?” I wasn’t getting it.

  “My painting!”

  I always cringed when she called it her painting, like she’d done the work herself. “Am I missing something?”

  Brandon chuckled, but covered his flashy smile by stroking his mouth with his hand.

  “Shut up, Brandon!” Tiffany roared.

  Then I saw it.

  I had to hold my breath and clamp my jaw shut. If I tried to breathe, I was going to bust a gut laughing. I’m pretty sure I’d turned red.

  “It’s not funny, Christos,” Tiffany pouted.

  I snickered, “It kind of is.”

  A wheezy chuck
le broke from Brandon.

  Tiffany glared at him.

  “Sorry,” he laughed, “sorry.” He turned away politely, trying to get a grip on himself.

  I was grinning ear to ear. “The technique is flawless. I didn’t even notice it at first. Blends in perfectly with my oils.” Had Samantha done this? Man, I sure hoped so. Someone needed to knock Tiff down a notch.

  Tiffany gave me a pouting, pleading look. The momentum had turned against her. She knew she’d dulled her Angry Sword from overuse, so she switched weapons. That girl could drum up tears faster than a baby. It was amazing to watch her in action, but I knew better.

  “It’s ruined,” she sobbed. “My painting is ruined!”

  I gave her a gimme-a-break eye roll that I’d used on her a thousand times over the years.

  It didn’t help.

  Nothing would, until Tiffany somehow got her way.

  “Hey,” Samantha said from the doorway.

  Romeo, Kamiko, Madison, and just about everyone else on board stood behind them.

  Great, now Tiffany had an audience. I couldn’t escape the feeling she’d orchestrated this entire scene. Maybe she had defaced the painting herself, just to get my attention.

  I gave Samantha a look and silently mouthed the words, “Did you do this?”

  A guilty looked strained Samantha’s face. I smiled a big grin at her and nodded approval behind Tiffany’s back.

  Then I noticed Romeo biting his lower lip. He looked guilty as fuck, too. I liked the guy better and better.

  “I’m sorry,” Romeo apologized. “It was my fault.”

  Tiffany snarled at him, but I detected a hint of disappointment in her eyes. Like she wanted it to be Samantha.

  Romeo pulled a marker out of his pocket and held it up.

  Yeah, Tiffany’s disappointment was obvious. She was such a drama queen.

  “I did it too,” Samantha said.

  Tiffany’s eyes shot wide. “You what?!” She lunged at Samantha, but I grabbed her, holding her back.

  “It’s water-based ink!” Romeo hollered defensively. “It should come right off!”

  Tiffany lunged again, but I had a good grip on her. “Easy, Tiff. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” To Romeo, I said, “Let me see that pen.”

  He handed it to me. I read the label. I’d used these pens before. They totally came off.

  Tiffany was shaking with fury. I still had one hand clamped around her arm.

  “Calm down, Tiffany,” I encouraged. “The painting is sealed with varnish. It’ll be fine.” To Brandon, “Hold her for me, would you?” I said, referring to Tiffany.

  He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but that was it. With any luck, she wouldn’t pounce at Samantha like a jungle cat the moment I turned my back.

  I slid my boots off and carefully stepped onto the bed. I licked my thumb and rubbed at the mustache. The water soluble ink instantly smeared. “See? It totally comes off. Someone get some tissues and a glass of water. I’ll clean it up right now.”

  “I’ll get it,” Romeo said, guilt tinging his voice. He squeezed past several people into the cabin’s bathroom and returned a minute later with a glass of water and toilet tissue.

  “Thanks, man,” I said.

  For whatever reason, maybe because all eyes were not on her, Tiffany started bawling again. One of her leggy minions ran to her. “It’s okay, Tiffany.” She wrapped her arms around Tiffany.

  Tiffany fell into the embrace and wept like an alligator. I knew she was still totally pissed at Samantha, but I also sensed she had other plans brewing behind her false bawling. Tiffany always had other plans.

  Romeo flashed a nervous smile and stepped away while I went to work. I dipped, dabbed, and wiped with the wet tissue. In a minute, the painting was spotless. “See, Tiffany? It’s fine.”

  She pursed her lips while she removed her heels. She climbed onto the bed and huffed. Hands on hips, she leaned toward the painting, her nose inches from the canvas. “I can still see black ink.”

  “Where?” I asked skeptically. I hadn’t missed any.

  “Here!” She stabbed her finger toward the painting.

  I leaned forward, and wiped at it, just in case.

  “It’s still there!” she cried, pointing dramatically, as if identifying a suspected murderer in the courtroom.

  “What?” I peered closely. “That’s nothing, Tiffany. It’s just a shadow from the brushwork, beneath the varnish.”

  “No, it’s not!” She had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Yes. It is. I remember painting it.” I stepped calmly off the bed and stood with my hands resting casually on my hips.

  Tiffany looked around at everyone.

  Nobody seemed very sympathetic, from what I could tell.

  Tiffany knew she was losing her audience. “It’s not okay!” she stomped once, still on top of the bed like it was her own personal pulpit, then folded her arms across her chest defiantly. “And I want my money back!”

  Brandon flashed me a worried look.

  “This simply won’t do!” Tiffany huffed. “I’m telling Daddy first thing in the morning! How do you think he’ll react, Brandon, when he finds out there’s graffiti all over my painting? Hmmm? It’s ruined!” Barefoot, she stomped off the bed and out of the cabin.

  I sat down on the mattress and slid my boots on, one at a time. Time for a fight. Too bad it wasn’t the easy kind, with knuckles and knees.

  This was turning into a royal pain in my ass.

  CHRISTOS

  “We should deal with this,” Brandon said in front of everybody, “before it gets any worse.”

  “You sure you don’t want to let her cool off,” I suggested. “She’s still loaded. Maybe you can smooth-talk her tomorrow.”

  “I’d like to spend my New Year’s day doing something other than handling fallout from Tiffany’s asinine antics.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Excuse me, everyone,” Brandon said as he squirmed through the gawking crowd.

  He followed Tiffany up the stairs. “Tiffany, wait!”

  I raised my eyebrows at Samantha. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

  Samantha gave a compassionate sigh. “I’m so sorry Christos. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Me too,” Romeo moped. “I’m totally sorry, C-Man.”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” I smiled. “The painting is fine. Tiffany needs a reality check now and then. Too bad she gets less than one a decade. I owe you guys.”

  “You sure?” Samantha asked plaintively.

  I could tell she felt terrible. “Don’t worry, agápi mou,” I reassured. “No sense letting the drama llama ruin your evening any more than she already has.”

  “She does kind of look like a llama,” Romeo said thoughtfully.

  Samantha struggled not to smile too widely in front of Tiffany’s remaining sorority friends.

  “All right,” I said, “I’ll be upstairs with Brandon, tending to Bitching Beauty.”

  When I went upstairs and saw Tiffany talking to Brandon in the living room portion of the main cabin, she took one look at me and bee-lined out to the back deck.

  Brandon followed her.

  I sighed. I knew this game. She played it all the time. The “follow me” game. I trudged out to the back deck, but she left Brandon and continued around the walkway to the bow of the ship.

  “I think it’s yours from here,” Brandon said sympathetically. “My attempts to placate her were met with resolute pouting.”

  “Great. Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

  I strolled around to the front of the ship.

  Tiffany stood with her back to me, arms folded. I could tell she was fuming because she hadn’t gotten her way.

  I paused for a moment, shaking my head. This girl was a woman-sized baby. Her dad had made her into so much of a princess, demanding things was the only way she knew how to operate.

  “Tiffany, the painting’s fine.”

 
She whipped around to face me. “No it’s not Christos. Nothing’s fine. Your girlfriend is ruining everything.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “Nothing’s ruined, Tiffany.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes soft, her lips full. Her hair fluttered in the ocean breeze. On an objective level, Tiffany was truly gorgeous. Anyone who said otherwise was in denial.

  I knew from years of experience that her beauty was a dangerous lure. She loved to use it on me more than anyone else in her life. She’d almost reeled me in a hundred times over the years with that same angelic look, but I knew well the devil that waited in her darkness. Because of that, no matter how much of a wreck my life had been at any given point, I’d always managed to break free of her grasp just in time, right before she could swallow me whole and no doubt shit me out the other end when she got bored.

  Luckily for me, I’d become permanently immune to her gamesmanship the second Samantha had walked into my life.

  “Tiffany…”

  “Yes, Christos?” she asked hopefully.

  “…don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she played innocent ignorance perfectly. Gazing up at me from beneath her delicate brow and flawlessly shaped eyebrows, she coquettishly caressed my arm with her fingertip.

  “Don’t play me.” I yanked my arm away.

  The beauty on her face was replaced by pragmatic frustration. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  I waited her out.

  “I don’t care about the painting, Christos. I never have. It’s you I want.”

  I sighed. “I’m off the table, Tiffany. If you want, I can take the painting back to my studio and go over it with a microscope.”

  She cocked her hip to one side and planted a defiant fist on it. Her nose tilted up commandingly. “Not good enough. Either you get rid of that Floozy Footstool you’re dating, or I want a new painting.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Leave Samantha out of this. Your painting will be fine, Tiffany. You’re over-reacting.”

  “No!” she pouted. “The painting is worthless! I won’t accept it!”

  Now I was irritated. “You want me to redo it? Whatever. I’ll take this one home and knock out a copy in a few days. Then you can have two. Put one in your private jet, or where the fuck ever.”