Life in the Danger Zone

by Patricia B Tighe

  I hit a table, moved away, and kept going. “You’re not doing this very well.”

  She gave me a mock mad look and tried to pull her hands away. I shook my head, trying not to grin, but failing. She was so freaking cute sometimes. I never wanted to let go.

  I bumped into someone who turned out to be Alexis. Rose and I had made it to the dance floor, and already that panicked look had come back. Think fast, man. I immediately pulled her toward me in a jitterbug move and then pushed her back out. Back in and then a spin under my arm. I had no idea what I was doing, and it seriously didn’t go with the music, but what the hell. At least now Rose had a smile on her face.

  Alexis broke in and grabbed our arms. “No partners! Group dance!” She pulled us more into the circle where Marie, Jacques, Sophie, and Nick were dancing, and I had no other choice. It was kangaroo time.

  I jumped up and down, and backward and forward, probably not moving to the beat at all. But one thing was clear—Rose was a little liar. Because her expression had relaxed, and she was dancing, her moves more natural than any of the rest of us. I slowed down with the jumping thing because it was making it hard to watch her. And I could totally get in to watching her.

  The music changed, and Uncle David and Cynthia joined us on the dance floor. Like a splash of cold water in the face. Right, Sam. Time to stop having fun. They moved perfectly together, smiling, laughing. Compatible. I faced the opposite direction. When had my uncle become such a good dancer? Come to think of it, my father was a good dancer too.

  Good. There was at least one way that I wasn’t like either of them.

  ***

  After half an hour or so of dancing, in which Clio came by to wish Sophie a happy birthday and to warn Nick that he needed to be in his room by eleven, Rose and I threw ourselves onto the couch to take a break. Her face was flushed, her hair wild and gorgeous.

  She slipped her shoes off and groaned. “I should’ve done this twenty minutes ago.”

  “You want water?” I asked, holding up the carafe. She nodded, and then drew her feet up onto the couch to massage them. I poured us both water and downed mine down in one long gulp. Even as she drank, she worked her fingers against the ball of her foot. “I can do that for you, if you want,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. Because the sad fact was, I wanted to touch her. Even if all it amounted to was a foot massage.

  But Rose immediately folded her legs together like she wanted to hide her feet from me. “No way. They’re gross and sweaty.”

  “I doubt that.” I patted my thigh. “Come on. Put your foot right here.”

  “Nope.” She pushed her glass practically into my face. “Can I have more?”

  “Oka-ay,” I said, refilling her glass. “But you don’t know what you’re missing. I give a mean foot massage.” I winked as I handed her the water.

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I bet you do. I just don’t like—” She sipped from her glass.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

  “It can’t be any stupider than hating on macaroni and cheese.”

  She exhaled a laugh. “It is.”

  “This ought to be good then. Tell me.”

  She looked across the room as if she were checking to see if anyone was listening. And of course, no one was. The music was still rockin,’ and people were either on the dance floor or talking across their own small tables. She leaned in. “I just don’t like people touching my feet.”

  I reared back. “Really? Has this become an issue? Are guys at your school constantly begging to touch your feet?” Because I totally would.

  She laughed again. “Shut up.”

  “No, seriously. If they’re harassing you, you should tell somebody.”

  “Let me know when you’re through being hilarious so we can talk about something else,” she said, her lips curving.

  Man, I wanted to kiss her. I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m never through being hilarious.” In her signature move, she covered her mouth with one hand. “I still need to know why you lied about not being able to dance,” I said.

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “What? You sat right there and said you couldn’t dance.”

  She shook her head. “Neither of you let me finish. I meant to say I can’t dance in front of other people.”

  I pointed to the dance floor and edged a little closer to her. “But …”

  “That was the first time.”

  “Ever?”

  Her eyes seemed to glow, just like they had the other night. “Ever.”

  My pulse pounded in my ears. Take it slow. Take what slow? I didn’t even know what I was doing with this girl. Humor. Go for humor. I swallowed. “I can’t believe this. Do you have a set of life rules that we in the Briggs family are slowly making you violate?”

  “What?” she asked through a laugh.

  “First, we make you dance in public. And I bet a foot massage is in your future. Are there any other rules we should know about?”

  “I don’t have a set of life rules.”

  “Are you sure?” Not able to help myself, I reached over and tugged gently on a strand of blond hair dangling near her face.

  She pursed her lips. “Well …”

  “Uh-oh. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

  “I don’t like to talk to strangers.”

  “Mulligan! This is horrible.” She laughed. “I need to update my family,” I said. “We’ve screwed up all your rules.”

  She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “I think I’ll survive.”

  “Even through the hard times, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and I had to move in closer to hear, “even then.”

  Which reminded me. We’d been interrupted earlier right after I talked about my parents. “Speaking of, you didn’t get to tell me what bad thing happened today.”

  “Oh, right.” She frowned. “You sure you still want to hear? It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Of course.”

  “Right. So, remember the other day in Porec when we were joking about a mystery novel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ve sort of been trying to solve my own mystery.”

  “Does this have something to do with Clio’s cousin?”

  “It might. I don’t know yet.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She started in on her story. About someone she called the Sun Visor Lady and her sister. About a blond female crew member with a round face that no one could identify and how the thefts were continuing. About wondering if anyone in our group was involved because the bracelet turned up in Marie’s cover-up. About following Jacques into a bar.

  While she talked, I moved close enough that I could angle my head down and hear her words perfectly despite the music. But the part about the bar made my stomach tense up. “Wait a second. You did what?”

  “I followed him into a bar because he was acting strangely. Turns out he was meeting his dad for a beer. But it could all be a lie. I never saw the face of the guy he was talking to. Jacques made us leave too soon.”

  “You think he’s involved in some jewelry theft ring?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

  A dizzy sensation ran through me. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like following someone through a town you’ve never been to or walking into a bar where there could’ve been a bunch of lechers sitting around.”

  “I can’t promise that. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “Rose, come on. It’s a foreign country; you don’t speak the language. You could’ve gotten lost. You might not have found Jacques. Anything could’ve happened.”

  She smoothed the already smooth material of her dress. “But nothing did.”

  “Wow. Great logic there.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t be snarky.”

  “It’s my greatest talent.”

  She actually looked up to the ceiling as though searching for help. “Can I finish?”

  I leaned my elbow on the back of the couch and propped my head up with my hand. “Yes, I need to know every detail of this sordid little tale.”

  “Really? ’Cause you look bored.”

  “Not bored, just tired. There’s a difference.”

  “Okay, well. You were with me when Clio’s cousin followed us today. And I don’t know how it connects, but I’m getting the feeling that it does.”

  “So now he’s the one running the jewelry stealing operation?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How could he be? He’s not on the ship.”

  “He’d have to get someone to steal for him.” She gasped. “Clio.”

  “She has red hair.”

  “She could’ve worn a wig,” Rose said.

  I straightened. “You’re right. She could be doing it.”

  “And maybe that was why he was so mad at her in Porec. She’d let him down or didn’t want to steal anymore or told him she was quitting.”

  As crazy as it sounded, this was starting to make sense. But we needed to be careful. “Just because she could be the one doesn’t mean she is.”

  Her face got a set expression. “You’re right. I need to find out somehow.”

  I let myself lift a section of soft hair from her shoulder. “Hey, don’t go nuts now. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “You’ll help?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I don’t know whether it was my answer or the fact that I was playing with her hair, but her cheeks reddened. “Thanks.”

  “Sure. But I still haven’t heard about the bad thing that happened.”

  “Oh, right. My journal was stolen.”

  I frowned. “What journal?”

  “You haven’t seen me writing in it?”

  No. But that was probably because I was too distracted by just her. All of her. “Um, maybe?”

  “Well, I’ve been writing in a journal about all of this—” she twirled a hand in the air “—and that journal is missing. I kept it in my top dresser drawer, and it’s not there.” She had to have misplaced it. I started to say so, but she raised her eyebrow at me. “And no, I didn’t just misplace it.”

  “How—?”

  “You’ve got the same look on your face as my grandparents did when I told them. I searched my entire room. That’s why I was late to the cruise update earlier. My journal is gone, which means … someone was in my room.”

  The dread I’d felt earlier quadrupled. This had just gotten real. Rose could be in danger. We had to be sure. “How about we search your room one more time?” She opened her mouth, most likely to protest, but I cut her off. “I’m sure you did a good job, but you were in a hurry. Let’s search together. Just to be sure.”

  The frown on her face turned to a look of determination. “Okay.”

  Twenty

  Rose

  I slid my keycard into the slot on the door, hoping Sam couldn’t see my fingers quiver. I’d been hyperaware of him from the moment he’d tugged on my hair, then played with it, and then strolled casually out of the lounge with me. Now we stood in front of my room, and even though we weren’t touching, his warmth behind me felt like an embrace.

  I opened the door. Was I about to have an out of body experience? Like the sensation of floating on the ceiling looking down at the two of us? Because it just didn’t fit. I was bringing a cute boy into my room. Me. Rose Mulligan, terrified of strangers. And most boys.

  Of course, he wasn’t there to make out or anything, but it still felt like something was not right with this picture.

  “Are we going in?” he whispered, his breath tickling the top of my head.

  “Yes,” I whispered back. I led him inside, without stumbling on my too-high heels, and a nervous laugh escaped my lips. The door thunked shut, and I drew in a long breath. “So, here’s my room,” I said stupidly.

  Sam gave me his lopsided smile. “Doesn’t look anything like mine. My uncle’s a slob.”

  I exhaled loudly. His gaze roved over the surfaces of the room. New cruise info papers for the next day were on the table along with a small plate of grapes and an apple. So Darl had been here while I was having dinner.

  Sam pointed. “Is that it? Looks like a journal.”

  I swiveled. My journal sat on my bed like it’d never left. “Ah,” escaped my lips. In two steps I snatched it up, the Moleskin a welcome softness to my fingers. “It is.” I smiled at Sam. “Maybe Darl found it.”

  “Darl?”

  “The cabin steward.”

  “Oh.”

  I flipped through the journal’s pages. Had whoever taken it read the stuff I’d written? Or had I actually misplaced it? When I reached the middle I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Where there should’ve been the beginning of my notes, the ragged edges of torn papers greeted me. The pages were gone. Ripped out. And on the facing page was written Don’t make me do it again! They were simple enough words, not really threatening, but the exclamation mark tore through the paper.

  I must’ve made a noise because Sam suddenly stood next to me. “What’s wrong?”

  His voice sounded like it came from down a long tunnel. I tried to say something, but my mouth was having trouble forming words.

  Sam swore and took hold of my elbows. “Sit down. Right here.”

  I dropped onto my bed.

  Sam eased the journal out of my hands and tossed it aside. “Take a deep breath. Are you seeing spots? Do you need to bend over?”

  I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, and then shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice coming out low and muffled.

  “No you’re not.” He moved over to the area above the mini fridge. The releasing suction from the lid of the water carafe popped loud enough to wake the dead.

  I wrapped my arms around myself. Someone had been in this room. Had stolen my journal. Had ripped the pages out. And had returned the journal as a message. A threat.

  “Here,” Sam said, holding out a small glass of water. When I didn’t move, he gently wrapped both my hands around it, his fingers warm and strong. “Just take a couple of sips, okay?”

  The concern in his voice jolted me almost as much as seeing the journal lying on my bed. I drank some of the water and handed the glass back to him. “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

  He set the glass in its slot. “It’s gonna be okay. Maybe we should tell your grandparents.”

  My phone read ten forty-five. “Not tonight. They’re probably in bed.”

  Sam paced as well as he could in the small room—two steps this way, two steps that way. Suddenly he stopped. “You know what? We need Alexis for this.”

  “Really?” My breathing eased a bit. “You think she can help?”

  “Alexis always knows what to do. Let’s go get— No. I’ll go get her. Will you be okay here? By yourself?”

  “I think so.” I stared at the door, the brown rectangle that was supposed to keep people out. That was supposed to give me privacy.

  Sam followed my gaze. “Just push that locking bar to the side when I leave. No one can get in unless you move it back. Okay?”

  I nodded. At least, I thought I did, but Sam squatted in front of me and took one of my hands. “Geez, you’re freezing.” He rubbed it between his warm palms. “Okay. Here’s your job. While I’m gone, change into pajamas or something that’ll warm you up. All right?”

  “I guess.”

  “No guessing. Do it. You need to move around. Promise me you’ll change clothes.”

  I finally met his steady gaze. It was almost like he was willing strength into me. I licked my lips. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He squeezed my hand briefly and then stood. “I’ll be back in five minutes, so hurry up. Alexis is gonna
want to talk to you right away.”

  That was a little frightening. “Okay, okay.” I got up and followed him to the door. Once he was gone, I threw the bolt and backed away. I was starting to shiver again, so I yanked open my closet and tossed my shoes inside. Then I wriggled out of my dress and hung it up. I pulled on my pajama pants and T-shirt and a pair of socks. Right. I was ready. What next?

  My hands were still cold, so I ran hot water on them at the bathroom sink. And though it felt weird since people were about to show up, I got in bed and pulled the covers up around my shoulders. My journal lay smack in the middle of the bed, looking like a trap that would snap shut on my hands if I opened it. No way I was going down that road. I didn’t want to look at it, much less touch it. Somebody else had messed with it, and now it didn’t seem like it was mine anymore.

  What the heck had I been thinking? How could I assume I was smart enough to figure out these thefts? All I’d wanted was to clear my name. To make sure it was obvious that I hadn’t stolen any stupid jewelry. But once I got started, I was totally into it. I liked questioning Mrs. Stanton, and through her, her sister. I liked watching people, trying to figure out if they had something to do with the thefts. Heck, even now, I could still feel my heart trying to jump out of my chest as I followed Jacques into that bar. There was a rush from trying to put the pieces together.

  I brought my knees against my chest and wrapped my arms around them, readjusting the covers over my shoulders. But look at me now. I was huddled in bed, cold and shocked, and not sure I wanted to do anything but hang around with my grandparents for the rest of the trip. Yeah. I was a real Veronica Mars all right—although I probably needed a refresher from Netflix, because at practically the first sign that my actions were making the thief nervous, I wanted to hide in a corner underneath about ten blankets.

  Because it all came down to one thing—I had no idea if I could stand up against someone who was basically invisible. I wouldn’t know where the next attack might come from. Or if it might be more than just a scare tactic.

  But that girl who could pluck up some courage and keep going, keep investigating whether the thief liked it or not? I wanted to be that girl.