by Natasha West
Eden didn’t like being a pawn in this game and felt it was time to say something to that effect. ‘Well, Max, I haven’t met anyone that’s my cup of tea, yet.’
The smug smile fell off Max’s face. Steph started laughing.
‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at. You’ve just been told you’re not getting any,’ Max huffed.
‘But so did you, so I’m gonna take that as a win,’ Steph laughed in delight.
‘Right. I think that’s me, done for the night,’ Eden said, standing up, smoothing her dress down.
‘No, don’t go,’ Max said, finally tearing her angry eyeballs away from a cackling Steph. ‘I’m not trying to pull you or anything if that’s what you thought. I just figured we’d get to know each other, that’s all,’ she lied outrageously.
‘Maybe another time, I’m kind of tired,’ Eden said diplomatically. She began to edge her way out of the table. She spotted Natalie looking pretty bored, and she snaked her way toward her. ‘I’m going. You wanna walk back with me?’
Natalie glanced around the table at everyone and said, ‘Sure.’
Max leaned over to her. ‘You’re not going too, are you?’ she demanded of Natalie.
Eden saw a distinct look of anger flit across Natalie’s face, and she knew why. Max had clearly been working her all evening and then forgotten her when a newer toy appeared. Now she’d struck out, she was going back to plan A. Anyone would have been insulted. ‘Yeah. Tired. Have a good night,’ Natalie said irritably. She stood quickly before Max could make a fresh plea.
Eden and Natalie exited the bar, into the relative quiet of the foyer. Eden was pleased to get a break on her ears. Only now, Eden and Natalie were alone, with all the weirdness, headed for the staterooms.
‘So, you’re here,’ Eden said, trying to address it. She couldn’t not. It was too big of an elephant.
‘And you’re here.’
‘You didn’t say you were going on a cruise.’
Natalie paused. ‘Yeah, well, it’s a bit… Isn’t it?’
‘A bit what?’ Eden said.
‘You know,’ Natalie said quietly. ‘Because you didn’t say this was what you were doing either.’
Eden had to admit, she did know what Natalie meant. On the hierarchy of desperation, this was above a blind date, above speed dating, way above an app. ‘Yeah, I guess I didn’t want to advertise the fact I’d sunk to this.’
Natalie didn’t say anything to that, and Eden felt like she’d said something wrong. ‘Which floor are you on?’ she asked, scrambling for something to say.
‘Three. You?’
‘Four.’
Natalie snorted. ‘Of course,’ she muttered to herself as they got into the lift. Eden couldn’t think what she meant by that and didn’t feel brave enough to ask.
The lift ride was silent. On floor three, the doors glided open, and Natalie stepped into the hall. She turned around to face Eden. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you around,’ Natalie said, and Eden couldn’t miss the displeasure in her tone.
‘Yeah, I’m sure you will,’ Eden said as the doors slid shut.
As the lift carried her to the fourth floor, Eden felt overcome with disappointment. She’d always suspected Natalie didn’t like her. But it felt like a confirmed fact now. Natalie didn’t want Eden to be here.
Seven
Natalie didn’t want Eden to be here.
As she stomped down the hall, she was livid. The only positive thing about being on this boat was that no one knew her. She could either throw herself into the fray and sleep with half the passenger manifesto, or she could plop herself on a sun lounger all week and catch up on her reading. The second one had been much more likely, but still, it felt like no matter what she did on this boat, it didn’t have to follow her off it if she didn’t want it to. Because she was with strangers. Well, that was done. There were eyes on her now.
And it had to be Eden, didn’t it? Perfect, charming, gorgeous Eden. The perpetual belle of the bastard ball. Natalie had only bumped into her half an hour ago, and she already felt like the invisible woman. Max had proven that, jumping at the chance to upgrade. Not that Natalie had exactly thought Max could be The One, but still, it stung to be tossed aside. But of course, Max would lose her shit over Eden. Anyone would. Everyone did.
Natalie unlocked her room, threw herself face down onto the bed, and screamed into her pillow. Once that was done, she got back up and began to get ready for bed, wondering why this was happening. Eden hadn’t really said why she was here, just something about having, ‘Sunk to this.’
Natalie had always pictured Eden having an extremely fancy private life, queer or not. Eden should have been dating supermodels, maybe professional tennis players, spending her time at wine tastings, jet skiing, getting proposed to in hot air balloons. She should not have been on this cruise, where people came to say, without actually saying it, ‘Well, I can’t find love in the normal way. Round up every last lesbian you can find, trap them on a boat, and I’ll throw myself in and see what sticks.’ You didn’t find Eden’s type in that situation. You found only the Natalies of the world: second, third, or even fourth-tier women.
As Natalie brushed her teeth, there was only one conclusion she could draw. Eden was hiding. Some lover had gotten too obsessed with her, and she simply had to get away from it all, get some peace from the barrage of flowers and jewellery that were probably being delivered to her daily. Where better than this boat? That had to be it. Eden needed to go somewhere she wouldn’t be tracked down. So rather than the usual fancy person haunts, like Saint-Tropez or Monaco, Eden was in the last place anyone would think to find her. With a boatload of slavering lesbians.
As Natalie got into bed, she was beginning to calm down somewhat, and she began to wonder how easy it might be to avoid Eden. She’d been looking at the itinerary, there were options in terms of activities. Maybe she didn’t have to run into her constantly, didn’t have to feel that pressure that came from being in a ten-metre radius of someone who looked like they were photoshopped. It was far from ideal, but if Natalie had learned anything in life, it was how to lower her expectations.
So she would be strategic, she would think ahead. This didn’t have to be the problem it had seemed initially. There were a thousand bloody women on this cruise. What were the chances they’d bump into each other all that often? Natalie comforted herself as she drifted off.
But the last thought she had before sleep took her wasn’t so comforting: The odds of Eden being on the same trip as her had been minuscule. But here she was. So maybe odds weren’t that kind to Natalie.
Eight
Eden was sat on a sun lounger the next day, hoping to have a little bit of time to herself while she figured out her next move. She kept seeing flyers for speed dating, so she thought that might be a simple solution. It was at nine tonight. She was rather tense at the idea. Three minutes to be interesting, amusing, and charming. It was a big ask.
She was toying with the idea of getting a massage to try and relax herself ahead of her evening when Steph came strolling along the deck. Eden prayed not to be seen. She wasn’t up for being leched after again, not like last night. That had been awkward, being trapped between her and Max, using her like a tennis ball, trying to score points.
But of course, Steph spotted her. She walked over to Eden’s lounger, hands in her shorts pockets. ‘Morning,’ Steph said. ‘Missed you at breakfast. Everyone was there except you.’
Eden had slept in, gone later. ‘Who’s everybody?’
‘Everyone from our table and everyone from your workmate’s table,’ Steph said. ‘I think it’s a confirmed crew now. Speaking of which, you coming to the quiz tonight?’
‘Quiz?’ Eden said. ‘I don’t think that’s really my cup of tea.’
‘Everyone’s going,’ Steph assured her, which wasn’t as strong an argument as Steph might have thought. ‘Caz and Saz heard about it, and everyone’s up for it. We’re meeting up after dinner. You’ve got to come.’
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‘Well, I would,’ Eden lied, followed up with a truth. ‘But there’s a singles thing, speed dating-’
‘You can’t go to the singles things,’ Steph told her.
Eden raised an eyebrow. ‘But this is a singles cruise.’
‘Yeah, but it’s a bit… It’s too in your face, isn’t it?’ Steph said. ‘It’s easier to just meet people at things that aren’t about actually meeting people. Less pressure.’
Eden considered that. ‘Oh. I guess so.’
‘Yeah, I mean, I can’t speak for anyone else, but me? I tend to get a bit… I don’t do great at the whole, you know, talking thing.’
Eden knew what she meant. She’d been the recipient of Steph’s awkward attentions. ‘I take your point.’
‘So, you’ll come to the quiz?’ Steph pressed.
‘Well…’
‘I promise me and Max won’t… I think both of us got the message,’ Steph said, rubbing the back of her neck and laughing nervously.
Eden smiled. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she lied shamelessly. ‘But sure, I’ll come to the quiz.’
‘Cool. Right, I’m off to the climbing wall. Maybe some hottie will fall on me. See you at dinner,’ Steph said and off she went, literally hoping that a gorgeous woman would fall out of the sky.
Eden lay back on her lounger, sighing miserably. So now she was stuck going to this bloody quiz. She hated quizzes. They didn’t tend to bring out the best in people. There was always someone who thought they knew everything and knew jack shit, someone who actually did know everything and was passive-aggressively pretending they didn’t mind what answer was put down, a pedantic nerd who would lock horns with the quizmaster over a point they believed they should have had, always someone who thought it was hilarious how little they knew, and someone paying no attention to the quiz whatsoever until it was prize time.
Then again, she couldn’t really say she’d been thrilled about going to speed dating. She’d just thought it was the thing to do, to take a proactive approach to the business of this holiday. But if Steph were to be believed, people on the ship were all pretending they were here with half a mind on romance. They were really just here to have fun and oh, hello, I suppose you seem nice, I guess I’ve got ten minutes to spare between breakfast and Pilates to get to know you spiritually, intellectually, and physically, and, would you look at that, we’re in love. To Eden, it was even more contrived than speed dating. But if that was how it was done, then that was how it was done.
So, the shitty quiz beckoned. Eden just hoped she wouldn’t show herself up. Jesus, in front of Natalie, too. If Eden revealed herself as a dummy, she’d lose any thin possibility of earning Natalie’s dwindling respect. Natalie would confirm her suspicions that the new boss was her intellectual inferior, and that would be that.
Eden felt the familiar sensation of pressure to impress rear up in her. But that was no surprise. It was her oldest, most reliable friend.
***
‘Who invented the Ferrari?’ the woman with the mic boomed out, over enunciating every question for total clarity. They were back in the bar from night one, the karaoke stage now had a quizmaster on it. Eden turned to her teammates, Beatrice, Mary, Steph, Isabella, and Maggie. The teams had a limit of six people, so the big crew had been divided back up. Eden was thrilled. If she fucked up, Natalie was at a table nearby with Max, Caz, Saz, Angelique, and Florence and wouldn’t likely hear. ‘Does anyone know the answer to this one?’ she asked her group.
‘Well, it’s obviously… Mr Ferrari, isn’t it?’ Beatrice said with bravado.
‘It can’t be that easy,’ Eden said. ‘Can it?
‘Well, I don’t have a clue, so put it down,’ Steph said. ‘Mr Ferrari.’
‘It could be Mrs Ferrari,’ Maggie said dryly.
‘Why does she have to be married?’ Isabella asked snarkily. Maggie rolled her eyes.
‘Stop messing around, we need an answer,’ Mary said in a panic out of proportion with the weight of the situation.
‘I’m putting Mr Ferrari, OK? And not because I’m sexist, but because the car manufacturing industry probably is, alright?’ Beatrice said, the holder of the pen and therefore the final word.
‘Go ahead,’ Eden said, readying herself for the next question. Mr Ferrari aside, she was pleased to find that she hadn’t been useless. She knew the capital of Paraguay (Asuncion) and the name of Henry VIII’s first wife (Catherine of Aragon). But where she’d really come into her own was the movie section, killing that round. So she was holding her own so far. She wondered how Natalie was doing.
Nine
‘What colour is absinthe?’ the quizmaster asked.
Everyone looked at Caz and Saz. ‘Well?’ Florence demanded.
‘Why do you assume we know?’ Caz said defensively.
‘So you don’t?’ Natalie asked.
‘It’s green,’ Saz admitted.
Natalie smiled and wrote down the answer. So far, they were doing OK. Natalie knew movies, Florence knew history, Angelique knew sports, Caz and Saz gleefully knew nothing unless it happened to be booze related, and Max could handle the music questions, but you had to snap for her attention, which was squarely on the senoritas in the room. They were muddling through the rest. She glanced over at the table next to them, wondering how the other lot were doing. Natalie was thrilled beyond compare when they’d announced that the team limit was six. She really didn’t want to let Eden know just how stupid she was. So she knew a lot about movies? Eden probably would have thought that a bit of a dimwit’s topic. Everyone knew something about films, didn’t they? Saying you liked movies was like saying you enjoyed food.
‘And that’s the end of that category!’ the quizmaster screamed. ‘Time to tot up the points.’ She ran through the answers without much delay until she got to a question about cars, to which the answer was ‘Enzo Ferrari.’ Beatrice suddenly yelled, ‘I told you!’ from the other table. Mary told her flatly that it wasn’t a full answer. Beatrice stood and addressed the stage. ‘Can we have a point for Mr Ferrari?’
The room erupted into laughter while the quizmaster considered. ‘OK, everyone, if you put…’ she paused for a snigger, ‘Mr Ferrari, you can have half a point.’
‘Half a point!?’ Beatrice cried.
‘Sit down and be glad we got that,’ Isabella said, looking mortified by the attention on her group.
Once all the answers were called out, someone collected up the quiz sheets and told everyone to wait while they put the scores on a spreadsheet projected on the back wall. When the spreadsheet popped up, the results were interesting. Natalie’s team and Eden’s team were joint first.
‘Yes, fucking nailed it!’ Max said.
Natalie wanted to slap her. She’d barely paid any attention, and now she was all about the glory. But Natalie stopped caring about that pretty quickly when it was announced how the final winner would be decided. ‘Right, so we’re into a sudden death round. Each team will elect someone to come up and answer questions. First one to get one wrong, loses. Choose your champion.’
Natalie and her table members looked at each other. This was tricky. She thought Florence was probably their smartest member, but if she said that, it was rude to everyone else. But Max didn’t seem to care about rude, coming right out with it. ‘Florence? You doing it?’
Florence smirked. ‘What, me?’ she said with infuriatingly false modesty.
‘If it’s not about the Premier League, I’d be in trouble,’ Angelique agreed. ‘I’d nominate you too. Or Natalie.’
‘Eh?’ Natalie said.
‘Yeah, I think we’d pick Nat too,’ Caz said. ‘Mmm,’ Saz agreed. It wasn’t a weighty endorsement, but Natalie was touched.
Florence was clearly livid in her passive-aggressive way. ‘Well, if you think Natalie can handle it.’
Natalie herself didn’t really think she could handle it. But she didn’t like Florence’s tone. ‘I mean, I guess I could do it,’ she found herself saying.
‘If you’d like to,’ Florence said. ‘I don’t really care either way.’
Caz laughed. ‘Sure, Jan.’
‘My name is Florence.’
Max rolled her eyes. ‘OK, I’m changing my vote. Florence, I’m sure you know a lot of clever shit, but maybe not a lot of current stuff. Natalie, you have the majority. Go on, get up there.’
Florence nodded as though this was exactly what she wanted. ‘Best of luck, Natalie.’
Natalie was a deer in the headlights. What the hell had she been thinking, volunteering?
‘Go on, then,’ Saz said, shoving her. Natalie walked up to the stage, where she was placed on a stool, a mic shoved in her hand. On the other stool, guess who was grinning at her? ‘What are the odds?’ Eden asked.
