Cruising for Trouble

by Alexander, Romeo

  7

  Alex Keys

  “Aaron, what are you doing here?” I demand again.

  I haven’t seen Aaron in years. He moved to Orlando and I moved to California, leaving Mom in Miami. The only time I see him is when he comes home on holidays. He hasn’t been home in ages.

  “What, can’t an older brother drop in on his younger brother?” Aaron flops down on the bed and kicks up his boots, which are covered in mud.

  “Eww, get your feet off my bed with those boots, Aaron. And no, you never just pop in, unless you want something. And we’re twins, you’re only older by two minutes.”

  “Still older,” Aaron grins, but doesn’t move to take his feet off my bed.

  “Aaron, what are you doing here, for real? Have you been to see Mom?” I sit at the desk and stare at my older brother. He’s aged since I saw him six years ago and not in a good way. Rather like life is stressing him out and he hasn’t been able to move from one thing to another fast enough, and the strain is getting to him. There is a twitchy, watchful look in his eyes, which are a slightly darker green than mine, as well as dark circles under them. It doesn’t sit well with me. I figure he must be up to something.

  “Have you been in jail again?” I can’t help but blurt it out. His behavior is exactly like the time he went to jail for pulling a con. The DA was never able to prove criminal intent, but was able to bust him on some misdemeanors, and he had to spend three months in the clink, then do community service and pay restitution. When he got out, Mom and I got a speech about how life on the inside changes a man. The only thing that had changed was his ego had gotten bigger.

  “I’m offended, Alex!” he places a hand over his heart, and I fold my arms. “Okay, okay. No, I have not been in jail, but I need a place to chill. I did go and see Mom. She’s mad at you, by the way.”

  “What? Why?” I ignore the part where he needs a place to hang out.

  “Because you sent her a measly bouquet of flowers this year and a card,” he folds his arms behind his head and grins again.

  “What? That card had tickets to the theater in it. Top box seats too!” I shout, standing up.

  “Yeah, but it was to see Chicago, the very production she auditioned for seven years ago but was told she was too old for the part. You remember the meltdown she had?”

  “She’s still bent out of shape about that? Never mind, of course she is. Hey, it isn’t like you got her anything.”

  “This is true, little brother. But my mere presence was enough to bring joy to her heart,” he spreads his arms wide and then refolds them like he’s God’s gift to mankind.

  “Oh really? Then why are you here and not staying in the guest house in Miami?” I cross my own arms across my chest and give him my best ‘I know you’re up to something, just have out with it before the drama brings us all into your mess’ look.

  “Aww, come on. Can’t I just come for a visit?”

  “No. You always have an ultimatum. What is it this time, Aaron? Insurance scams? Car scams?”

  “Alex, I’m hurt. None of those things were scams, per se, just bad business investments.”

  I sigh. Aaron’s view of the world is vastly different from mine, which always surprises me because we were raised by the same diva mother. How is it I grew up to have a work ethic and sense of integrity, and Aaron grew up believing he’d get by on his looks and charm alone, much like our dear mother, a washed-up actress? As much as I love Mom, the only roles she is snagging now are advertisements for elderly couples needing medication assistance, or the loving wife of a man with erectile dysfunction. She always shrugs it off when I ask, but I know her inability to land a roll of a middle-aged woman who looks glamorous, like she’s becoming the next Jane Fonda, really upsets her. The ads pay her bills, though, and keep her living in the lifestyle she’s grown accustomed to, so she either needs to fire her agent, or hang up the many hats. The one hit movie role she landed was over twenty years ago and is a forgotten cinematic gem. It’s unfortunate, but that’s how the business works.

  “Aaron, you went to jail for scamming people. Odometer rollbacks are a form of scamming. You can’t falsely report the mileage on a vehicle and roll back the odometer to have less miles.”

  “It isn’t a scam. If no one can prove the mileage was never on the odometer in the first place, how can they accuse me of scamming them? Would I lie to you, little brother?” he has the audacity to look offended.

  “Yes. Because you sold me one of those cars when we were seniors in high school and you first learned the trick from Gus down at O’Flannigan’s used car lot. The car broke down on my prom night and Gerry and I had to walk home in our tuxedos and shiny shoes. I had blisters for two weeks and still had to pay the tow truck driver to haul the piece of junk to the scrap yard.”

  Aaron finally sits up and grins at me. “Yes, I did sell you the car, but it doesn’t mean I rolled back any odometer.”

  “Aaron, I’m done with this argument. The courts were able to prove it. You’re just lucky you didn’t own the car lot. I’m pretty sure with the amount of cars Gus sold, he’s still rotting in jail somewhere.”

  “You’re probably right. But there is no scam this time, just a bad investment.”

  My stomach drops. That’s even worse than a scam or “business venture,” as he likes to call them. That means he’s promised someone something and can’t deliver, and he probably owes money. He’s run into this before, six years ago when we fell out, and I haven’t heard from him since. I bailed him out with five thousand dollars and told him to get lost. I did everything I could to make Mom feel better, but she accused me of breaking up the family, the only thing she had left in the world. Then her real pride and joy, King Louis the corgi, stole the pepperoni from my cheese and cracker plate and got sick all over her Persian rug. The family crisis was averted for fresh drama and a vet visit to make sure her “pookie baby” wasn’t dying. The damn dog had gas for a week, but otherwise was his same annoying little self, and Mom got over not having to have the maid follow Aaron around the house to make sure he didn’t nick any of the valuables.

  “What’s the investment, Aaron? Insurance again?” I pour myself a glass of wine from the bottle he’d set back on the table. I’ll probably need something stronger than wine to calm down by the time he’s finished his story.

  “No. Condos this time. I was the go between for the contractor and the investors and, uh, the contractor backed out and now the investors want a new contractor, or the three-hundred-thousand dollars on the line for the condo development project they’ve already dropped the money for.”

  Wine spews from my mouth across the cabin. I feel it dribble down my chin and I don’t care. Three-hundred-thousand dollars! Is he insane? “Aaron,” I whisper. I don’t even know where to begin. Not that I have that kind of money anyway. Not even mom has that kind of money. He must be out of his damn mind. “You can’t be serious!” I jump up and begin mopping at the wine which hit the bedspread. He shrugs his shoulders.

  “Unfortunately, yeah I am. The condo development is worth a fat million, and I was able to get a guy I know, Tony, and his crew to take the job for the three-hundred-thousand, but Tony skipped out once I gave him the money, and now I can’t find any other crew to do the job that cheap. So, I’m laying low until it blows over.”

  “Aaron. You can’t stay here,” I toss the towel I’d been using into the laundry bag and look him up and down. He’s gone completely insane?

  “I was going to stay with Mom, but they had me fill out references and since she’s one of the few people to vouch for me…” he trails off and looks at me innocently. I’ve seen the look before. He’s about to lay on the guilt trip nice and thick because I’m the only other reliable family member.

  “Great, so now they can come after Mom too,” I feel the anger boiling under my skin. He’s never going to learn, and this time he’s stepped in it so deep, there is no way out.

  “No. I have their money. I just need t
hem to cool for a few days and then when I get back to the docks, I’ll take care of business and give them their money back.”

  “Oh yeah, and how the hell are you planning to come up with that kind of cash?” I demand.

  I watch as he reaches into his leather jacket and pulls out some decadent jewels. There are brooches and cufflinks, all diamond. Some small earrings and watches, too, and all of them are top of the line, ten-thousand easy. I’ve seen accessories like this before, at last night’s welcome dinner where the rich and the beautiful had dressed to the nines and flashed their wealth in their expensive Italian leather and matching loafers. Their suits were expensive linen and the accessories, the watches, wallets, cufflinks, and jewels were all worth thousands of dollars.

  “Aaron, where did you get those?” I ask though I already know the answer. My disbelief at the depths he’s sunk to surprises even me. I knew he was the kind of person to bounce from one shady situation to another, but an outright thief was something else. Nicking things from Mom was one thing, but this was grand theft.

  “They don’t need them,” Aaron shoves the jewels back in his pocket and looks around.

  “Aaron!” I feel my voice shake as I start to yell. “What the hell, Aaron!?”

  He raises his hands to calm me. “Alex, come on. Help me out. Let me stay and then, when we hit the pier, I’ll take off and you won’t have to see me again,” he urges.

  “That’s not the point, Aaron. You can’t stay here with that. If you get caught, if I get caught and they find out I knew about this, this is my job you are encroaching on! You can’t think you can do this to me. Not this time!” I begin pacing and running my hands through my hair. Is he serious? He obviously is based on the desperate look on his face.

  “Alex, please!” he begs.

  I stop pacing and look at him. Something is very wrong. “Aaron, what is it. Tell me everything.”

  He hangs his head. “The money isn’t enough this time, Alex. If I don’t have the three-hundred-thousand and an extra fifty grand in interest and for damages to their reputation and all that bullshit…”

  “They’ll what, Aaron?”

  “They said they would come after me.”

  He falls silent but inside my head, nothing is quiet. Part of me says it’s time for something like this to teach him a lesson. The other part argues that he’s family and he needs to be protected no matter what. Finally, I settle somewhere in the middle.

  “You can’t stay here, Aaron. I won’t say anything, but I’m turning my back on this whole mess. I don’t want to know about it, I want to pretend you were never here and never showed me those things, and when you get caught, I don’t want to be associated with this. You really went too far this time, Aaron.”

  He opens his mouth to start to argue, but then a knock sounds on the cabin door. I open it a crack and Alayah is standing there, waiting.

  “Alayah? What’s up? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Except David, the producer, has decided he wants to film the erotic scene tonight. He’s calling an emergency film session in half an hour. Get dressed and get your butt up to the set,” I nod and shut the door, turning back to Aaron who looks miserable.

  “I mean it, Aaron. I want you out of here when I get back. I have to go to work and this is the last thing I need to be dealing with. I won’t say anything, but I officially want nothing to do with this. You weren’t here, I didn’t see you, get gone,” with that, I turn back around and leave the cabin before he can say anything further. I can’t help but wonder as I make my way up to the performance center, why the cosmos have deemed it necessary to test every aspect of my reputation and my stamina to deal with drama on this three-day cruise?

  8

  David Andrews

  I stand in the hallway, hurt and confused. I thought Alex had wanted…the other night at the club he’d seemed so earnest when he…

  Straightening my shirt I fix my hat on my head. When Alex shoved me, it’d been knocked to the side, and somehow, having it crooked seemed to only add to my confliction about finally admitting that I’m not straight. My entire reputation was built on that icon and I’d been outed, and now rejected, I can just imagine what a laughing stock I’m going to be.

  I race back down the hall and up the stairs, slamming the door to my cabin behind me, starting to hyperventilate. Had I not been good? Was the kiss bad? Maybe Alex didn’t like the taste of brandy? Okay, now I know I’m reaching, but the sting of rejection is so fresh, I wonder if the throbbing ache of pain is ever going to subside. I feel like it would’ve hurt less if he’d just slapped me across the face.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been so accusatory when I approached him. I did shun him deck side earlier yesterday morning, and it is plausible he was still smarting from that insult but shoving me seemed a bit harsh. Is this just how it is? I have no idea how to process rejection being gay. Being rejected by women never hurt so much, maybe because I was never really that into women.

  I loosen a button on my shirt and feel the lump in my throat once it’s given the room to grow. The tears form in my eyes before I can stop them, and a few slip down my cheeks. I can’t help it, I’d been so nervous about talking to him. Then I go and decide it was a good idea to take my liquid courage and confront him, only making the situation worse.

  I glare at the complimentary bottle of brandy on the wet bar. Alcohol is evil and makes people do stupid things. Although, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been the one doing stupid things the last couple of days all by myself. No assistance needed on that front, thank you very much.

  I pace, wondering what I should do. Should I back out of production, now that I made it worse? Should I have Jake fire Alex? That isn’t ethical. This mess has only been made worse by my constant screw ups and I need to find a way to fix this myself. Is there any chance to explain my actions and smooth it over? Jake was so kind at the bar, and I want nothing more than to show him that he can have the best promotional video ever and not ruin his chances. There must be a way to fix this.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I reach into my pocket, pull out my cellphone, and send a mass text to the cast and crew, calling an emergency shooting slot in the performance area. I want to get the sex scene out of the way. Maybe if I take that off the table I’ll be able to think about Alex rationally. In reality, I know that the reason I am calling the session is for a chance to talk to Alex alone. I can use the excuse of wardrobe, although the outfits are pretty straightforward. Bathrobes and silk boxers. But this is the only way I can ensure he won’t slam the door in my face.

  I should have listened to Jake when he told me talking to Alex was the best course of action. Instead, I barged in, horns blazing, and lips in full smooch mode, and made a real mess of it all. Actions speak louder than words, but sometimes the mature thing to do is to think before acting, talk it out and communicate, then follow through with actions.

  My phone starts to ping with responses, the session is on. The right people are on the way, but it’s Alex’s response I don’t receive so I text Alayah, the makeup stylist and ask her personally to check in on Alex. If he was sleeping he might not have heard my text, and I know they’re friends and her cabin is right next to his. She’ll rouse him for the session.

  Heading up to the performance room I greet a very sleepy-eyed Jake and instantly feel bad. He probably hasn’t slept in the month leading up to this cruise, and with a successful shooting today, he probably let himself crash in anticipation of another day tomorrow, figuring the professionals he was working with would have everything well at hand.

  “What’s up?” he mumbles, and a young assistant, probably fresh out of college, hands him a cup of coffee.

  “Sometimes, the best production time is when the inspiration hits. I was off my game today, but now I’m feeling it and I think the romance and ambiance of a nighttime setting for the sex scene is the best time to film. I’m sorry, I know everyone is tired, but…”

/>   “No, no! You’re the expert. If this is the time to do it, we can push back the morning session a couple of hours and do the afternoon session tonight. We have some flexibility,” he perks up and falls into the role of director, getting the scene set up. A king-size bed had been moved by a crew of six men up to the theater area, and they work, sweating and grunting to get it on the stage. Jake directs where to place the bed in the middle of the stage and he then begins ordering assistants to make the bed in various sheet sets of different thread counts and material.

  When they hit the crimson satin sheets, I give him the thumbs up as the actors who’d been chosen to do the scene show up. One is groggy eyed, and a cup of coffee is forced into his hand immediately. The other is three sheets to the wind and a bottle of water is immediately handed to him. His face is misted with cool spray to start to sober him up. I doubt he’s coming back from the sloshed state he’s in until at least tomorrow morning, but the best we can do is help him remember any lines he might have, although this filming should be pretty straight forward with some passionate kissing, heavy petting and panting. I’ve been trying not to dwell on it too much, then all thoughts of it flee my mind when Alex walks in with Alayah.

  Alayah immediately makes her way to the tired looking actor, and begins to address the bags under his eyes. Alex looks around, seeing his assistants already bringing the bathrobes and boxers to the actors, and his eyes catch mine. I gesture him over. He’s changed again which is peculiar. He’d been in the shirt and tie earlier with dress slacks, then the bad boy look, and now he’s back in the shirt and tie. Could it be he has an interest on board already who likes a certain appeal?

  Heat begins to rise beneath my collar as I consider it. Jealousy has never been my thing. I think it’s strange now that I would be getting jealous over a man who has caused me nothing but confusion and hurt since I met him. I’m still reeling from my admission to coming out, still feeling like I’m foreign in my own body. And then to be rejected so forcefully? I’m not sure how he’s going to react to my need to talk to him.