Caribbean Crossroads

by Connie E Sokol

  Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, a few mumbled, and two girls turned to each other and laughed quietly at a private joke.

  “Yes, I know, I’m the happy God-fairy who gets to make all your restrictive dreams come true. I have to answer to the board, but more worrisome than that, to your parents. I don’t care if you’re over 21—you know what’s expected so let’s go through the short list. No going anywhere on excursions without a buddy, especially in Jamaica. Curfew is at midnight, one a.m. on performance nights. And there is no, and I mean absolutely, don’t mean maybe, NO dating of cast members. Did you all catch that last sentence? Jasmine, take out your earbuds. What did I just say?”

  A red-haired girl with a bored expression took out one earbud. “Buddy. Curfew. No messing around with the hired help.” She put the earbud back in.

  “Right on cue, Jaz,” said Clint.

  Megan leaned over to Jillian. “But isn’t that how you met Derek? I thought you said this was the place to meet guys. But if you can’t date . . . I mean, not that I’m interested, just that—”

  Jillian whispered back. “It’s the biggest joke. Fifteen marriages and counting, but we all get that it’s ‘the rule,’ for the parents’ sake. And the board’s.”

  Megan shrugged her shoulders. Show biz.

  “Okay, ladies and gents.” Clint clapped his hands. “Everybody up onstage. Let’s do a run-through with the salsa number first. Grab your partner and to your marks—sound crew to the booth. Lighting and stage crew, you know what to do. Tape is on the floor, so look for your color.”

  Everyone seemed to know what to do, except Megan. Following Jillian, she nervously moved to the outside of the stage, a black half-circle outlined in lights. Clint walked to the center of the stage with what appeared to be the star performers—the girl named Brittany was there. And Bryant.

  So he was a star performer. Hmm.

  She didn’t know why she was surprised. He seemed on the ball, but her idea of a star performer was all charm and no conscience. That didn’t fit him. Well, what she had seen of him anyway.

  As the cast gathered on the stage, Megan tried to look more confident than she felt. She glanced around the room, noting the minor performers in an outline on the frontal half-moon and guessed her spot. The recent hours of dance practice evaporated into a blank screen. She fought down the panic.

  Jillian scooted up to her. “Just like we rehearsed. Be natural. No stress. Breathe.” Then hurried back to her position. Megan nodded and smiled, but swallowed down momentary reflux.

  After a few minutes of cueing the music and testing the lights, hot salsa beats exploded from an excellent sound system. Megan’s stomach clutched—it had to be the salsa. It was the toughest dance in the lineup.

  Marvy took on an intense countenance—clapping beats, shouting directions, correcting dance steps. Megan partnered with Garrett, an amiable young man with shoulder-length dark hair. Together they managed the tempo and moved fairly well. Just as she started to get it, they entered a complex series of movements, and passed through an X-formation with each other, moving like Vegas performers but doing salsa steps and turns. Megan tried desperately to keep up.

  Bam. Megan slammed right into a perfectly coiffed guy.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled over the music, and with a disgusted sound, hurried to his rightful spot. She didn’t have time to apologize, though it wasn’t necessary—she bumped into him several more times before the rehearsal was over.

  After two hours of non-stop practice, the sweaty and thirsty minor performers took a needed break off stage while Clint worked with the stars.

  Outwardly, Megan appeared attentive on the workings of the group, but found herself unwittingly gravitating to Bryant. Sure, he was good looking—she begrudged him that. But something was different—a typical golden boy but to a point. And though he had to be mid-twenties at least, he had a kind of freshness about him. Like the nine-year-old boys at the door with gelled hair and tubs of homemade cookies to sell for camp. Endearing. But, still, something about him seemed odd—his expression, maybe, or the square cut of his jaw.

  Bryant was doing a song-and-dance number with Brittany. He turned and dipped her, hand on her waist, close. She moved with him, gripping his arms tightly and keeping constant eye contact.

  Hmm. Pretty chummy. Not that it mattered.

  Megan felt suddenly aware of her old capri dance pants and white T-shirt, and the realization that she couldn’t hope to move half as smoothly as Brittany. With luck, she could melt into the background dancers and it wouldn’t matter.

  “Hey there, I’m Chalise.” A curvy girl with dark hair slicked back like a Spanish dancer stuck out her hand and gave Megan’s a quick squeeze. “Listen, don’t mind Tag.”

  It took Megan a second. “Oh, him. I feel so bad. I think he must be sporting some serious bruises by now.”

  She laughed. “You’re fine. He tends to take things just a bit seriously, especially on the stage. He’s looking for a big gig this year—had a couple of offers for the fall if things go well here, sooo—”

  “—give him a lot of room and make him look good.”

  “You got it.” She looked back at the center performers. “And I think I’m your roomie, officially. With Jillian—you know her, right?”

  “Yeah, we’ve been roommates at NCU in Nevada. I think we have a fourth but I’m not sure who.”

  “Oh, that’s her, right over there, the one dancing with Bryant.” Megan followed her gaze.

  No.

  “Her name’s Brittany Shay Weller.” Chalise turned back to her and spoke in a low tone. “Used to be tight with Bryant, so I don’t know how that’s gonna work out this year. Awkward,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  Brittany and Bryant?

  “What happened?” said Megan before she could retract it. She immediately tried to look bored.

  Chalise had turned back to the dancers. “I’m not sure, I was on another ship. All I know is that it got messy for a while. Jillian would know the details. But, by the look of it, they’ve kissed and made up.” She gasped. “Oh, I’m on.” Chalise hurried to her mark.

  Kissed and made up. What exactly did that mean? Well, they did make the perfect Barbie and Ken couple. But what did it matter, anyway?

  At the conclusion of several more exhausting rehearsal hours, the three girls changed before the dinner buffet closed.

  “I’m starving, completely ravenous,” said Chalise, as she quickly finished powdering her face. Megan read a book on her lower bunk. She had showered first and simply pulled her wet straight chestnut hair back into a small ponytail holder.

  “Khaki pants and T-shirt again?” said Jillian, looking away from the mirror. “C’mon, Megs, you used to always look chic. How about a blouse? Borrow my turquoise one, you’ll look amazing.”

  Megan looked up from her book, smiled, and went back to reading.

  Jillian tisked at her and finished layering mascara. “As God as my witness, you will wear a skirt this summer.”

  “Thank you, Scarlett,” Megan said, still reading her book.

  “Come on, get something to show your legs a bit.”

  “No way.” Like she needed that. She was just fine with her basic khaki with T-shirt outfits—who was she here to impress? Suddenly a white smile and tanned face came to mind, looking down at her in the hallway, making her feel …

  No. She was here to work and get back to Being Megan. End of story.

  “Just the lower half, Megs, it’s not going kill you,” said Jillian, finishing her mascara. “You’re not sending the wrong message, but you’ll be about ten degrees cooler. And much more feminine, I might add.”

  “And this is important because?”

  “Well, you might want to be back into men someday.”

  “Please, we’re about to eat,” said Megan and turned the page. No need to let Jillian in on her flutter issues. That would only make her relentless in trying to stir up romantic waters.
/>   Jillian paused, capped the tube, and walked over to Megan. “You know, not every guy is like that.”

  Allowing the sincerity to stay, Megan nodded. Jillian had been there for her through most of the Jackson fiasco, which was likely why she was hadn’t yet forced on her a cruise list of datable guys. “I know,” said Megan. “There are still guys like Derek, after all, so I haven’t lost complete faith.” She hesitated then gave Jillian a meaningful look, grateful for how their friendship had deepened over the many years. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, I really do. But it’s just not for me, not right now. Not for a very long while yet.”

  Jillian thought for a moment then smoothed Megan’s hair. “He’s out there, Megs, he really is. And he’s wonderful. I just know it. You’ve got to let go and try again, despite what’s happened. You’ll see. Something good is right around the corner, I can feel it.”

  Megan smiled. Jillian had said it earnestly, genuinely. Like a comforting mother who knows best, and you almost believe her because you really, really want to. Jillian kissed the top of Megan’s head and headed back to the mirror. Brittany had not yet arrived but her suitcases had been meticulously unpacked and stowed somewhere out of sight.

  Minutes later they headed for the food. Chalise led them down the serpentine hallway which opened into the enormous mezzanine. It overflowed with people, casino entryways, and buffet entrances, spanning the size of a stadium floor. The girls made their way through the first food line. Every few minutes Jillian surveyed the place for Derek who said he’d meet her there.

  Tonight’s buffet—celebrating the first evening of the cruise—was an elaborate Asian theme. Four enormous banquet tables held platter after platter of seafood and meat dishes, egg rolls, noodles, rice and more, all displayed with ornate Chinese decorations of red and gold lanterns and stationed Terra Cotta army statues. Between the platters wound a luscious full-length version of the Wall of China made from chocolate fondant cake.

  “This is my favorite perk of being a Premier Performer, baby,” said Chalise, piling a bit of everything on her plate.

  “Where do you put it?” said Megan.

  “High metabolism, much to the ship’s dismay,” she said, spooning on some Szechwan shrimp.

  The abundance made Megan feel full before she began, and by the line’s end she only had a few entrees on her plate. They made their way to a cozy table by a wall, the dull roar of five hundred people’s animated conversation in the background. With the stimulation of the day, the afternoon’s rehearsals, and now the evening noise, Megan’s head throbbed a steady beat.

  As they settled into the seats in a section with a table sign labeled “Premier Performers,” Chalise called out, “Hey Britt, over here.”

  The stunning peroxide blonde paused at the table, while a Latino man stopped behind her, carrying a tray of salad without dressing, a palm-sized piece of grilled fish, and a small bowl of lemon slices.

  “Leesy, sooo good to see you.” Brittany leaned down for an air kiss on her cheek.” She glanced and smiled to the girls at the table.

  “Good rehearsal today, ladies.” She paused at Megan. “You’re the new girl—is it Megan?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Can’t believe it was your first rehearsal, you did a really great job. And don’t worry about Madame Helga. She gets sort of point and shoot out there but she’s really a big marshmallow.”

  Megan nodded in appreciation. Wow, disarmingly nice. Megan felt a momentary pang of guilt for her earlier Barbie and Ken judgment. She obviously had a lot to learn about performers.

  Chalise pointed to an open chair. “Come sit with us.”

  “Thanks, no, Manuel is seating me with Mrs. Van De Morelle.”

  Chalise stopped. “She’s here, on the ship?”

  “Oh yes, and about five board members. She’s supposedly coming to a performance, though no one knows which one.” Charlise’s hand flew to her chest. “I know. Word is they’re making new decisions on staff, performances, casinos—lots of things.” Brittany smiled abruptly at another table. “Hey, good to see you!” then did a princess wave.

  Megan noticed that her teeth were perfectly aligned, standing at attention like little alabaster soldiers. Her lips naturally sat up slightly higher than her gums so that her smile gave the constant impression she had just been crowned Miss America.

  “Who’s Mrs. Van De Morelle?” said Megan.

  “She’s the big cheese decision maker,” said Chalise. “And connected to everyone, right up to the president of the United States, I swear. Fingers in lots and lots of money and the x-factor in who stays and who goes. But what gives, are they firing anyone?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” said Brittany. “Actually, great news. My mom heard from the board that they’re shaking things up to better compete with the other cruise lines. But that’s not the best part.” She leaned in closer to the table, taking in all the girls one by one. “They’re looking for new star performers for the Intrepid.”

  “Are you serious?” Chalise practically shouted.

  “That’s what I heard. So, no pressure for performances but, this could be the summer.” She smiled fully at the girls. “Ta-ta, ladies.”

  And she was off, her lithe body in a white camisole shift moving nimbly between the tables while Manuel followed submissively behind.

  Chalise watched her leave. “Isn’t that Bryant over there—with that dark-haired kid?” She squinted for a better look then turned back to her generous plate. “He’s such a catch, but then so is Garrett, that shoulder-length wavy hair. You’re so lucky to partner with him for the salsa, Megan. He was on the Discovery with me two years ago. Maybe it’s time to revitalize the friendship.” She gave a sly smile.

  Jillian checked her watch and looked around again, a dark expression fleeting across her face. She dug into her plate. “I can’t believe they’re back on a boat together.”

  “Who?” said Megan.

  “Brittany and Bryant. Such a soap opera.”

  Megan found herself ridiculously hoping for more information. What was wrong with her?

  “So what’s the skinny on those two?” Chalise scooped up a forkful of rice. “Weren’t they an item?”

  “Oh yes. I only remember the major turns because I’d just met Derek and was otherwise occupied.” She eyed the room quickly. “But it was the total scuttlebutt for a while.”

  Megan remained impassive but something in her stomach remembered the tingle. Absurd, she thought. I don’t even know him.

  Jillian talked through a mouthful of food. “If I’m right, she and Bryant had dated before coming on board—danced together for some sort of group at Three Pines College. That’s where the Premiers started.”

  “So he wants to be a dancer, like a career?” Megan couldn’t help herself. For some reason, he just did not seem like the lifelong performer type.

  “No, he was some basketball star at his college or something, but Marvy’s sweet on him—they know each other through some old family connection. He was sort of her go-to dance guy.”

  “But he’s already graduated, hasn’t he?” added Chalise.

  “Yeah, a few years ago, and took his sweet time doing it too. Apparently he’s been doing this and that, working, and then went on some service mission for Community Builders, like a Habitat for Humanity deal, for about a year.”

  “Really?” said Megan. Good looking and with heart. Was that possible? A warning sound began very softly in her brain. No, she would not go there. Looks can be deceiving, she repeated in her mind.

  “It was actually his mother’s encouragement from what I understand.” Jillian chewed a piece of beef and broccoli. “They own some building business or something, I can’t remember. Anyway, so it was pretty strong for a few months but then they both left after the cruise tour was over—she went back to college and he went back with Builders as promised. But he was only supposed to go for like six months or something. Then Bryant e
xtended his tour for some reason. The next spring Brittany went on a ship alone, and lo and behold met Mr. Fantastico—get this, from Monte Carlo.” She chewed carefully while she talked, pointing for emphasis. “A distant relative of Prince Rainier and absolutely loaded. I remember that part, let me tell you. They got engaged within weeks, you should have seen the rock.”

  “So she and Bryant had broken if off before they left?” asked Chalise, almost finished with her plate by now.

  “Noooo.” Jillian waved her fork in the air. “Apparently, they were still hitched in some form, no idea the extent of foul play. All I remember is that Bryant flew to the Cayman Islands where she was at port—actually, it was pretty romantic—to find out what was going on. Which was not so romantic, at least for him. She tells Bryant it’s over, that she’s found her true love and he jets it back to South America to build some more homes.”

  “Whoa, that’s like a low-budget movie.” Chalise had pushed her plate aside. “Ooh, I think I ate too much.”

  “That’s not the half of it,” said Jillian. “Next thing we see is Brittany back on the Love Boat without the Love Bug.”

  “Her fiancé ditched her?” said Megan. She knew all too well how that felt.

  “Worse, he was a fake.” Jillian punctured the air again. “He thought she had money, which apparently they do, but not like he had been led to believe. It’s Mrs. Van De Morelle that has all the dough—the Wellers just live like they do. When Brittany found out, her mom flew her home and nursed her back to Barbie health. She comes back on board, but pines for Bryant, who by this time is back home, and then throws herself at his feet—at least from what I hear.”

  “And …” Chalise leaned forward.

  “He didn’t bite, if you know what I mean. Not for her trying, though.”

  Megan had to know, though she couldn’t understand why. “So it’s not over? I mean, is she still hoping for …”

  “I’m sure she’s not,” said Chalise. “Brittany’s gorgeous, she could have any guy. And if Bryant said it was done, that’s a pretty clear signal.”