by Stacy Juba
She bit down her real opinion and replied, “I’m overwhelmed people care, but this cruise looks a lot more relaxing than my time on Sink or Swim.”
“We knew you’d enjoy it,” Gabriel said. “Who wouldn’t welcome an opportunity to be pampered on a luxury ocean liner?”
Cassidy scoffed inwardly. Perhaps someone who’d been trapped on a schooner for three months.
After the broadcast, Cassidy escaped the sound stage before she blurted out something ungrateful. She glimpsed a production assistant leading her mother, brother, and other special guests off the set, weaning them away from the audience members who’d obtained free tickets for the taping but weren’t invited to the cast party.
When Adam touched her arm in the hallway, the hairs bristled on end.
“I missed you, Cassidy,” he said. “I’ve been counting the days till this reunion.”
“Hi, Adam,” she said with resignation. “Good to see you.”
Reggie lumbered by them in a dark brown suit befitting a Mafia hit man with his broad shoulders and sunken neck. He pivoted and walked backwards. “Hey, Horty, I'm surprised you showed. What'd you last, two episodes? Remember when you spilled paint on the deck and cost our team fifty points? What a klutz.” Laughing, he swaggered down the hallway.
Adam's mouth pinched into a scowl and red flushed up to his peach fuzz crew cut. “You should have gotten first place. Not him.”
It was nice to be supported, but this guy was too intense. Still, he didn’t deserve to be the butt of Reggie’s ridicule.
“Thanks,” Cassidy said. “Don’t listen to Reggie, he’s a creep. We all thought so. Catch you later, okay? I’ve got to find my family.”
She ducked downstairs to the cafeteria. Balloons and streamers transformed the surroundings into a glittering cascade of blue and gold, the colors in the Sink or Swim logo SOS. Cassidy accepted a wine glass from a black-coated waiter and glanced around for her mother and fourteen-year-old brother. They’d reunited briefly at the hotel that afternoon, sharing a few hugs and a quick lunch, then Cassidy had to rush off for counseling, hair and makeup. Her family was probably getting a VIP tour of the studio.
Cassidy found herself near a blue and gold decorated table, showcasing an elaborate sheet cake of the Atlantic Devil, her home for the past several weeks. She downed her white wine in one long gulp.
Gabriel slithered up beside her. His dark tailored sports coat hugged his slender build. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m sorry for your loss.”
He sounded as if he was extending condolences at a funeral. He hadn’t been that sorry when he’d ordered her to the plank.
“Thank you,” Cassidy said.
“Sorry I had to be rough and ask you all those questions. The audience expects me to be cutthroat.” Gabriel laughed his silky laugh.
“That was the deal when I signed on. Life in a fish bowl.”
“If you ever want to visit a larger fish bowl, look me up in L.A. I’ll show you around the hot spots. We could have some fun.”
Cassidy didn’t miss the innuendo. “I doubt I’ll get out there.”
“Maybe someday. Until then, have a great time on your cruise.” Gabriel smacked a wet one on her cheek and disappeared into the crowd. As he left, Cassidy grimaced and wiped off his saliva.
“Cass!” Josh threaded his way toward her with a willowy blonde lagging behind in a navy designer business suit. The couple's light hair and perfect tans were straight out of California.
Terrific. Cassidy should have enticed Gabriel to stick around rather than stand here alone, like, well, a loser.
“Great to see you!” Josh started toward her as if he were going for a hug, then stopped short like he’d thought better of it.
“Last time I saw you, buddy, you were jumping off a plank,” Cassidy said in her most casual tone. She mentally cursed herself. Buddy?
His companion edged closer, manicured burgundy fingernails digging into his hand, thin sandy eyebrows puckered into a frown. Josh made the introductions.
“It's nice to meet you, Shannon,” Cassidy said. “Josh has told me a lot about you.”
“That’s funny.” Shannon's cultured voice held a note of coldness. “I don't recall either of you mentioning my name when you were slow dancing at that party in week three. Or, on any of the other episodes, for that matter.”
Cassidy shoved her drained wine glass to her lips. Apparently, their chemistry hadn’t been as invisible as she’d hoped, but she and Josh had never acknowledged it. Even after that almost-kiss, they hadn’t discussed their feelings. How could they, with microphones listening 99 percent of the time?
She reminded herself that Shannon didn’t know about their near-indiscretion unless Josh had been dumb enough to tell her. And why would he? Nothing had happened.
“You’ve got to remember, they did a ton of editing,” Cassidy said. “I’m guessing they took out a lot of stuff.”
“Yeah, Cassidy wasn’t my only partner the night we danced,” Josh said. “I danced with everyone on our team. I had to, I was the only guy on the team.”
“Then why didn’t that get on television?” Shannon asked. “All they showed was a close-up of you two.”
“I don’t know why they edited things the way they did,” Josh said with a shrug.
“I don’t know either,” Shannon shot back.
Cassidy’s hand tightened around her wine glass. She hadn’t won the big money. She hadn’t won the guy. All Cassidy had gotten out of this deal was a cruise she’d gladly give back. “Let me explain it to you. Ratings. Sex sells, even when it isn’t there. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about with Josh.”
Shannon snorted, but didn’t respond. A waiter hefted over a platter of mozzarella sticks and Cassidy snatched one, relieved for the interruption. Josh and his fiancée weren’t exactly the lovebirds she’d imagined. Bad for Josh, good for her. If he and Shannon had been all kissy-kissy, Cassidy might have needed a lot more wine.
“Cassidy! Cassidy Novak!” A fiftyish woman with a mane of sculpted jet black curls bustled over. She would have come to Cassidy's shoulders except for her puffy hair, which made them the same height. Gold hoop earrings swinging back and forth, the woman cocked her head. Silver and gold spangles winked on her knee-length plum sequin dress. “Deniz Jewell, Jewell of America Talent Agency.”
Cassidy shook her hand, sparkling with acorn-sized rings. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Deniz is my agent,” Josh said. “She’s gotten me speaking engagements on domestic violence and we’re working on a radio campaign with a national coalition. It’s really bringing recognition to the human service agency where I work.”
“Josh is determined to preserve his socially conscious image,” Deniz Jewell said wryly. “But most of the others have pursued commercial opportunities. I've lined up gigs on soap operas and as celebrity judges for a pro skating tournament. Imagine what my agency can do for you.”
People were interested in the contestants who’d lost? Cassidy thought back to the crowd reaction for her prize. She did seem to have some fans out there. It might be fun to do a couple public appearances until the SOS fervor died down, and being in the spotlight longer would mean a little extra money, which she could definitely use.
“Thanks for your interest,” she said. “I’d like to talk to you.”
Deniz Jewell raised a finger, glittering with a ruby ring. “I’m delighted to hear that. You’re a personal trainer, correct? I'll bet we could get you a Nike ad, or an exercise video. Maybe even a fitness book deal.”
Shannon gave a heavy sigh and toyed with her strand of pearls.
Cassidy gulped. Nike? Was this lady for real? An endorsement like that could bring Cassidy more money than if she’d won first place. She forced her slack jaw muscles back together.
“Are you serious? You really think I could get all those deals?”
“It’s possible.” Deniz Jewell fished a card out of her purple leather purse. “No agency can h
elp you like Jewell of America. I’ll call you Monday. Excuse me.” She hurried toward Reggie, who had his arm around a giggling waitress.
“Honey, I'm tired,” Shannon complained with a yawn. “Let's eat and go back to the hotel.” She slanted a look at Cassidy and added, “We've got a long flight to L.A. after the press conference tomorrow.”
“Want to join us, Cass?” Josh asked, tight-lipped.
Cassidy elevated an eyebrow as if to say, “You’re kidding, right?”
"Thanks, but my family's here,” she said. “See you guys later."
As Shannon steered her fiancé away, Cassidy reflected on the meeting with the agent. According to Deniz Jewell, her dreams might be in reach after all. Don’t get your hopes up, Cassidy told herself. She couldn’t handle a big letdown twice.
DARK BEFORE DAWN
By Stacy Juba
When E.S.P. Spells D-A-N-G-E-R
Dawn Christian curled under the covers, shivering in her nightshirt. Goosebumps popped up on her bare arms. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Even the safety of darkness couldn't hide it.
Something was wrong.
She knew it the same way she had known it would rain despite the weather report. Now gray clouds blistered outside the window.
I can't go, I can't go, I can't go, something bad's going to happen. Dawn rubbed between her eyebrows, the message flying around inside her brain like a loose pinball.
The red numbers of her alarm clock flickered to 6:29. Dawn rolled onto her other side and faced the wall. In an hour, she'd be starting her junior year at a lame new high school. She missed Boston and taking the T, the city’s subway system, wherever she wanted to go. Dawn used to hang out at museums, watch the college kids in Harvard Square and read books at the Common. Sometimes, she and her mother caught Saturday matinees in the theater district.
Not anymore. Ever since the wedding in July, Dawn had been stuck in Covington, Maine, a beach town overflowing with rinky dink carnival rides, cheesy souvenir stores and bad vibrations.
"Dawn?" She turned to find her mother framed in the dimly lit doorway, fully dressed. "Are you coming down for breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Nervous about school?"
Gulping, Dawn huddled under the blankets. No way could she discuss her feeling with her mom. Her mother wanted a normal daughter who was on the basketball team or school newspaper, had friends and didn’t live in fear. "Kind of."
Her mother lowered herself onto the bed and squeezed Dawn’s hand. Her manicured pink nails shone against Dawn’s pale skin. Since meeting Jeff eight months ago, Dawn's mother had been letting her curly hair hang loose and wearing makeup.
She smoothed back a tangle of Dawn’s chestnut waves. "You don’t look like yourself. Do you feel all right?"
"I’m fine." Dawn shoved her stuffed monkey, Buddy, further under the blankets. Her father gave her Buddy shortly before he died, and holding it was like hugging a piece of her dad. Still, sleeping with a toy monkey was kiddish and Dawn didn’t do it often. Her mother would get suspicious if she noticed.
Darn it. Her mother drew out Buddy by his slender tail and patted his furry brown head. "Calling in the reinforcements, huh? What’s on your mind, honey? Maybe I can help."
Dawn sat up and clasped her knees. Her mother never understood about Dawn’s hunches. "I don’t think you really want to know, Mom."
"Of course I do."
Yeah, right. But Dawn didn’t have the stamina for lying today. "I’m getting one of my premonitions. Something’s wrong. I think it has to do with school."
She waited and sure enough, her mother got the frightened look she’d worn too many times before. Dawn remembered the look that terrible night with Mrs. Frazier ... but she didn’t want to think about that.
Her mother dropped Buddy onto the mattress and squirmed as if fighting off a chill. "I’m sure it’s just regular old nerves," she said in an overly cheerful voice. "It’s hard enough adjusting to a new home and a new family without throwing a new school into the picture. Who wouldn’t feel edgy?"
"That’s not it, Mom."
"Just be normal. Don’t worry about your premonitions. You shouldn’t have to live your life afraid."
"Get real, Mom. I’ll never be normal and fit in."
"If you paid more attention to talking with the other kids, and less to these visions and feelings, things would be so much easier for you."
How many times had she heard her mother say that? Dawn rolled her eyes. "This is why I didn’t want to talk about it. I can’t help that I ‘know’ things, Mom. The only way I can keep that stuff secret is by never opening my mouth. Then the other kids think I’m a snob."
"Being different is no reason to separate yourself. You’ve been through a lot already, honey, and I want you to be happy here. We have a fresh start. If you pushed your feelings to the back of your mind and stopped working yourself up over them, maybe they’ll stop coming." Her mother offered a brittle smile.
That was like asking Dawn to walk around blindfolded, or to stuff earplugs in her ears, giving up one of her senses. She couldn’t just shut off her feelings. They were too overpowering, demanding attention.
"You made me promise to hide my abilities around Ken and Jeff," Dawn said. "Okay, I want them to like me, but I shouldn’t have to hide things around you. Why can’t you just help me?"
Her mother slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I’m trying to help you, honey. You need to tell yourself that your imagination is running wild and you’ve got normal jitters. Do you understand what I’m saying?"
Dawn’s jaw tensed. Her mother deserved an Oscar. She had an amazing knack for pretending Dawn suffered normal teenage angst, acting as if they were on some TV drama when the truth was closer to the Stephen King movie Carrie.
"Whenever I’m in a new situation, I say hi to the person sitting next to me and do my best to start a conversation," her mother went on. "Maybe that would work for you."
Dawn took a few breaths to contain herself, then muttered, "I'll try."
Her mother's face lit up with relief. Dawn accepted her hug, inhaling the scents of Dove soap and raspberry body spray, but rather than make her feel better, the embrace ticked off Dawn even more. Did her mom really believe everything was solved? Dawn clamped her lips shut to keep back the harsh words brimming on her tongue.
"You're smart, you're pretty, you're sweet," her mother said. "The kids at Covington High will love you. Ken’s willing to give you a ride. Isn’t that great? I’d drive you myself, but I think it would be better if you’re not seen with your uncool old mother."
"Yeah. Great."
Her mother retreated downstairs to make breakfast. Dawn pushed back the covers. She knew her mom meant well. Since her dad’s death when Dawn was in first grade, life had sucked for both of them. They’d had lonely dinners, lonely holidays, lonely vacations. Having each other made it bearable. Now they had a chance to start over.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as her mother believed.
Dawn left Buddy on the disheveled bed and rested her bare feet on her pink throw rug. She flipped the wall switch and winced as harsh light glared down on her bone white bedroom set. Everything looked orderly, the way she liked it. Young adult romance novels and the latest issues of Seventeen filled a pair of baskets, while trays on her dresser organized accessories.
She had enough clutter in her own head. Dawn couldn’t stand seeing it reflected in her surroundings.
A sudden wave of music blared down the hall, "I’m a rock-and-roller, that’s what I ammmmm ..." Dawn cringed, pressing her temples against the beginnings of a headache.
She wanted to storm in and tell Ken to shut off his music, but he wasn’t her real brother. Then he’d hate her, for sure.
Dawn snagged her new jeans and shirt out of the closet and covered her ears as she crossed the hallway into the bathroom. She hung her clothes on a hook, shaking her head at the beach junk adorning the walls. Dawn had gotten us
ed to the twig wreath overflowing with glued dolphins and starfish, but the foam life ring above the toilet reminded her of the Titanic.
A shower was what she needed. A steady stream of water sprayed into the tub as she undressed, the whooshing sound drowning out Ken’s music, but not her internal voice.
Be very careful. Something is wrong.
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