One Last Chance

by Shelby Gates

  ONE LAST CHANCE

  Shelby Gates

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ONE LAST CHANCE

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright @2012

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

  ONE

  “Please don’t sink,” Claire Woodward said as she stared at the massive cruise ship.

  She adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder and re-gripped the roller bag as she stood outside the port check-in. Masses of people boarded the ship on the entry ramps, masses she’d be sharing a ride with for the next three days on the Pacific Ocean. The way her life had been going, the ship would go down on Day 2 and a shark would make off with her left leg before another passenger accidentally hit her with a life preserver, knocking her out and drowning her.

  It had been a rough year.

  From the safety of her sunglass-shaded eyes, she scanned the faces in the crowd, but saw no one she recognized. She wasn’t entirely sure who she was looking for. She’d only checked the RSVP list for her ten-year reunion once, looking for one particular name. Thank God his name hadn’t been there because then she’d absolutely have refused to come. As it was, she still wasn’t thrilled to be joining her former classmates from St. Andrew’s Academy. At a hotel or restaurant, she could’ve escaped if she needed to. But there was nowhere to go on the boat. And ten years didn’t seem like enough time for anyone to have done anything. At least, anything good. She was well-equipped with anecdotes from the last decade to embarrass herself with things she had not done well.

  Fired from her job.

  Divorced after six months.

  No sex for almost a year.

  Ten extra pounds that felt like ten million.

  Moving back in with her parents.

  Panic rippled through her stomach. Was her ticket still refundable? What the hell was she doing here?

  No, she told herself. You’re going. You need to have fun. You need a break. You need to figure out exactly what you’re going to do with your life when you get back.

  She gripped the handle tighter on the bag.

  As long as Griffin Benson didn’t show his face, she could get through three days on a giant boat.

  She adjusted her sunglasses, took a deep breath and joined the queue of passengers waiting to board. There were families with kids and elderly couples and an enormous group of redheads of various ages, all sporting neon yellow t-shirts emblazoned with the words Baumgarten Reunion. But not one single person who looked like a St. Andrew alumnae. For a moment she wondered if she’d misread the reunion info. Maybe she’d signed up for the wrong weekend. Or the wrong cruise.

  “Claire Woodward? Is that you?”

  She turned to see Emily Cushman standing behind her. She bit her lip as she took in the former cheerleader’s slim frame and the golden curls barely hidden underneath the enormous straw hat resting on her head. She hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Hey,” Claire said weakly. This is a mistake, she thought for the hundredth time. What the hell am I doing here?

  “How are you?” Emily gushed, reaching out and grabbing Claire’s hands. Her French manicured nails dug into her wrists before she let go. “It’s been forever!”

  “Yeah,” Claire murmured. “It has.”

  “I can’t believe how many people are coming,” Emily continued. “Practically our entire class. It’s going to be such an amazing weekend.”

  “Really?” Claire slid her roller bag as the line moved forward.

  Emily nodded. “Yep. Almost everyone.”

  But not Griffin Benson, Claire told herself. Not him. His name hadn’t been on the list.

  A guy slid into place next to Emily and looped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned close and kissed him full on the mouth, her white nails cupping his tanned cheek. Claire knew exactly who he was. Dylan Mercado, captain of the football team.

  “Dylan, you remember Claire?”

  He studied her blankly.

  “I sat in front of you in Biology?” Claire said. “And babysat your little sister?”

  The blank look didn’t leave his face.

  “We had a few on the plane down here,” Emily whispered, grinning. “I think he’s a little buzzed.”

  “Were you a cheerleader?” Dylan asked. “I think you were a cheerleader.”

  Claire felt like she was right back in high school. “Um, no.”

  “You tried out, though, right?” Emily said, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at her.

  Claire made a non-committal sound, choosing not to relive the disaster that was her ninth grade cheerleading try-out. Was this what the three days were going to be like? Reliving everything she didn’t want to relive or even remember?

  “Oh, you were the chick that fell!” Dylan exclaimed. “From the top of the pyramid! Now I remember you! How are you?”

  Claire glanced over the side of the ramp—the Pacific rippling down below.

  Maybe the shark would just take both legs and get it over with quick.

  “Screwed,” Claire whispered under her breath.

  “What?” Dylan leaned closer. “I didn’t hear you.”

  Claire forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just fine.” And I’ll be better when this is all over, she thought.

  Dylan opened his mouth to ask another question—or point out another horrifically embarrassing moment from her past—but a bear of a man tackled him from behind, enormous arms wrapping around his midsection.

  And so they descended, scores of St. Andrew’s alumnae. Chad Marcus, the linebacker from their state championship football team and Molly Sanger, Emily’s sidekick on the cheerleading squad. It was like a school bus had just dropped her entire graduating class at the dock. Claire swiveled her head back and forth, watching as people whooped and hugged each other in greeting. But no one greeted her.

  It wasn’t anyone’s fault. She knew that. Being a scholarship kid at an exclusive private school could isolate even the coolest kid from the masses. But she never tried at St. Andrew’s. And she certainly hadn’t been cool.

  Apart from the ridiculous cheerleading tryouts—something her mother had forced her to do—she’d always been a loner at school. She went to classes and was part of the skeletal, four-person student newspaper staff. But when the bell rang? She’d made a beeline for home. And for her real friends. Friends who went to Bonita Vista High, friends that she’d grown up with since kindergarten. Friends who—like her—didn’t have enough money for one semester at St. Andrew’s, much less enough for four, full years of high school.

  “Welcome to the Holiday Carnivale.”

  Claire looked forward, into the chest of a generously endowed cruise attendant. She felt her cheeks flush as she shifted her gaze.

  “Do you have your boarding pass?”

  “My what?”

  The brunette smiled at her. The silver name tag attached to the breasts said her name was Giselle from Brazil, but Claire hadn’t detected much of an accent.

  “Your boarding pass,” Giselle repeated. “You should have received it from your travel agent?”

  Claire rummaged in her purse and pulled out her confirmation receipt. “I didn’t get a boarding pass.” She thrust the folded paper at Giselle.

  The cruise attendant studied the paper, her forehead creasing into a frown. “This is all you have?”

  Claire nodded. She’d never taken a cruise before. What else was she suppose
d to have?

  Giselle shook her head. “You’ll need to take this over there,” she said, pointing vaguely to the right.

  Claire looked. There was a small office on the dock. “And do what?”

  Giselle smiled again. “And see if they can help you. Next!”

  Claire sighed and lugged her bags across the dock. This was just her luck, she thought. Leave it to her travel agent to completely screw things up. She set her bags down and pulled open the door to the office. An icy blast of air hit her.

  Eduardo from Costa Rica stood behind the desk. “May I help you, senorita?”

  Claire stepped inside and handed her paper to him. “Apparently, I need a boarding pass?”

  “Of course!” He studied the paper for a moment and then pecked at the keyboard on the counter, his eyes scanning the LCD screen in front of him.

  Claire drummed her fingers on the top of her roller bag and waited.

  “I’m afraid I have some very bad news, senorita,” he said.

  “Bad news?” Claire asked. “What? Is the printer broken? You can’t print me a pass?”

  He shook his head. “Oh no, senorita. We have a very good printer here.”

  “Okay.” Claire waited.

  Eduardo chewed his lip. “It appears there has been—how do you say?—a meestake in your reservation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He swallowed several times, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Meaning…we don’t have one for you.”

  TWO

  “Excuse me?”

  Eduardo set the confirmation paper on the counter and wrung his hands. “There is no reservation.”

  Claire wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. How could there be no reservation? She had a receipt in front of her, a receipt showing she’d paid the full balance for the cruise nearly three months ago.

  “But I paid!” Claire stabbed the paper with her pointer finger. “It says so right here.”

  Eduardo shrugged and said nothing.

  “Well, obviously this is a mistake,” she said. “I mean, clearly I have paid. All you have to do is print me a boarding pass and we’ll be good to go.”

  Eduardo shook his head sadly. “I cannot do that, senorita.”

  “Why not?” she demanded. “You just said you have a perfectly good printer.”

  “Oh, we do!” Eduardo’s face brightened just a bit. “But that is not the problem.”

  “Well, then what is?”

  “There are no cabins left.” He adjusted the monitor, turning it so she could see. “We are booked full. Some—how do you say?—reunions. A high school. And a very large family.”

  Claire snatched the paper from the counter with shaking fingers. “So I’ve paid for this God-forsaken cruise and you’re telling me I can’t go on it?”

  “Senorita, I am not exactly sure what to do here,” Eduardo said nervously. “I see that you have a receipt. But without a room, I am not sure where you will sleep.”

  “Get me your supervisor,” Claire said, shaking her head. “Right now.”

  Eduardo seemed grateful to pick up the phone and call in reinforcements.

  Claire stared at her confirmation without reading it. She’d had misgivings from the moment the invitation arrived. It caught her at a weak moment, when she thought the diversion would do her good. Now, all it was doing was giving her one more thing to get pissed off at.

  Fine, she thought. Whatever. I’ll get my refund and go, she thought. Screw this circus. It was a mistake from the get-go and I won’t have to be known as the one who fell from the top of the pyramid for the next three days.

  A short, stout woman with a severe blond bob appeared next to Eduardo, smiling like her mouth didn’t know how to do anything else.

  “Hello, Miss Woodward. I’m Susan Claddington. I understand we’re having a problem with your reservation.”

  “Eduardo here tells me I don’t have a reservation,” Claire said. “So, yeah. That’s kind of a problem. Even though I paid for a ticket.”

  Her smile intensified. “May I see your confirmation?”

  She handed Susan the paper. “Really. At this point, I’ll take the refund and go. So we can avoid anymore hassles.”

  “Well, I’m afraid all refunds take approximately eight to twelve weeks,” Susan said, still studying the confirmation. “And they must be approved by our corporate office.”

  Claire’s blood pressure spiked. “Find me a room or give me cash. Those are your options.”

  Eduardo shrank a little, but Susan continued to smile. “I understand your frustration, Miss Woodward. I really do. And I’m happy to process a refund request for you. But please keep in mind, it’s only a request and it will take eight to twelve weeks to process.”

  There was no way she was waiting two to three months for a refund on a trip that she’d already paid for. No. Possible. Way.

  “Then find me a room,” Claire said. “Or I’ll go find the goddamn captain and tell him I’m sleeping in his room.”

  Susan spoke through clenched teeth. “The captain doesn’t have a room. He has what are called quarters. And, unfortunately, passengers aren’t permitted to visit that area.”

  “Then find me a room!” Claire said, her voice rising loud enough to turn heads. “I paid for a room. I have a receipt. Find. Me. A. Room.”

  Susan’s smile wavered for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Miss Woodward, I do understand your frustration…”

  “No, I don’t think you do, Susan,” Claire spat. “Because you probably have a bed to sleep in on this ship tonight. I don’t—even though I paid for one. So I don’t think you have a clue as to how I feel. At all.” She slammed her hand down on the counter. “So find me a bed, Susan. Find me a bed.”

  Susan’s veneer finally cracked and the smile faded into a thin line of determination. She opened her mouth to speak but someone interrupted her.

  “Well, if all you need is a bed, I think I can help,” a voice said from behind Claire.

  She froze.

  She knew that voice.

  That voice wasn’t on the list.

  That voice made her want to run from the dock, refund or no refund.

  But she’d have to turn around to run and that meant having to look at him.

  She was trapped.

  Slowly, defeated, she turned around.

  Griffin Benson smiled at her. “Hello, Claire.”

  THREE

  She looked like she wanted to rip someone’s face off and he knew that laughing was the wrong response, but Griffin couldn’t hide his amusement.

  “Griffin,” she said, flustered. “Hello.”

  “Hi, yourself.” He grinned at her. “So you need a bed, huh?”

  Claire shook her head vigorously. “No.”

  “Uh, you just said you did.” He gestured in the other direction. “I could hear you all the way over there.”

  Her face reddened. He remembered her face coloring like that in high school whenever she was embarrassed. He’d missed seeing it. Or maybe he’d just missed being the one who could bring the color to her face.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said sternly.

  He ignored her statement. “Back to the issue of the bed. I believe this nice lady said she didn’t have one to offer you,” he said, smiling at Susan.

  Susan nodded, her smile repositioned. “That’s correct. Unfortunately, we are booked solid and we don’t have an empty cabin. I’m terribly sorry.”

  Claire’s mouth tightened and her body stiffened.

  “My stateroom has two beds,” Griffin said. “I paid for a double, but didn’t want a roommate.” He turned to Claire. “If I’d known you were gonna be available, I would’ve just asked you ahead of time and saved everyone all of the yelling.”

  Her lips twitched. “I’m not sharing a room with you, Griffin.”

  “I’d be willing to bet that Susan here might even be able to do something about still refunding your money, given that they’ve made such an
egregious error,” he said. “That sound right, Susan?”

  “Well, I, uh…”

  Griffin turned his full attention to the cruise ship representative.

  “Susan, did I mention that I write for a consumer travel magazine?” he asked. “I can’t recall. And that my column reaches hundreds of thousands of people? And that it’s specifically geared to helping consumers who have had less than stellar travel experiences?”

  Susan studied him for a moment. Griffin watched as the color drained from her face. “Mr. Benson. I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

  He shrugged. “Ah, that’s okay. Most people don’t.”

  She whispered something to Eduardo, whose face turned the same color hers had. He scurried off.

  “Absolutely, Mr. Benson,” Susan said, lifting her chin. “We’d be happy to stand by our offer of a full refund for Miss Woodward, due to our error. If she wishes to accompany you on the trip, we would welcome her free of charge and do our best to make up for any inconvenience this may have caused.”

  Griffin leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled at Claire. “I’m not sure how you can refuse an offer like that. A cruise. For free. And my company. So we can catch up.”