She tapped her glossy red luggage handle that matched her glossy red lips and nails. “I was in Jacksonville for a few days, visiting a friend, if you must know.” She looked over at Jock and winked. “I flew into Miami this morning for the beauty cruise.”
Ugh.
“Fortunately,” she continued, “my staff stayed back to work.”
More likely, they chose working over going on a trip with Candace. This ship wasn’t going to be big enough for the two of us. I looked up in a silent prayer and told myself to let it go. Candace wasn’t going to interfere with my vacation.
Ten minutes later, we all piled onto the shuttles. Thank God Candace boarded one of the other buses. She was out of my hair and at the same time could make enemies with a whole new group of people.
Tantig sat beside Kashi who, at present, was pressing his straight brown nose against the window. Max and I settled in behind them. The bus driver welcomed us, said a few pre-cruise words, and took off with a lurch.
Tantig stared over Kashi’s shoulder. He turned from the window, smiled at her, and leaned back so she could have a better view of the passing palm trees.
She put her lips together and blinked. “I wear a pacemake-air,” she said flatly, likely not noticing the view.
Kashi glanced over his shoulder at us as if maybe he’d missed something. Getting no response from us, he nodded at Tantig. “That is indeed noteworthy.”
She did her usual pursed-lipped half smile, and Kashi took this as an invite for more conversation. “May I learn what is your age?”
She raised her chin along with a tsk of her tongue. The silent no.
Kashi smiled, undeterred. “You must be seventy-five, yes? Or eighty?”
Tantig shifted her eyes at Kashi. “I’ll give you a Tic Tac if you stop asking how old I am.”
Kashi laughed. “You dear little pasty-skinned woman. You remind me of my grandmother.” His face brightened like an idea occurred to him. “I have a gift for you, made with Kashi’s own hands.” He buried his head in his knapsack and came up a second later, clutching something that resembled a cockroach with glittering gemstones and blond hair swirled on the sides. “I call it Kashi’s ‘Get Out of Town’ brooch. My own creation made from human hair. This one is for you. Kashi’s ‘Get Out of Town Marilyn.’ Named after the legendary Marilyn Monroe.” He placed his brooch on Tantig’s sweater lapel, and she gave another tongue click.
“Tank you.” Her words were sincere, but I knew she was thinking she could do without the brooch.
I relaxed in my seat and breathed in the blue skies of Miami and warm air blowing through the windows. I couldn’t believe we were here in the Sunshine State, getting ready to board a cruise ship. Apart from work, I’d managed to pay my landlord my house rent and ask my neighbor Mr. Brooks to take care of my cat, Yitts. There was nothing left to do but enjoy myself.
My gaze roamed back to Kashi’s shiny black head of neatly cut hair, and my brows creased. What was that confrontation in the airport with Lucy Jacobs all about? Kashi had said he was here for the beauty cruise. Was Lucy here for the same reason? Kashi had also mentioned New York. Was Lucy from New York, too? Had they been involved with each other? Was that skirmish work-related? I did a half shrug. It was none of my business. I was here for the contest. I didn’t need something else to worry about.
Max was up and down in his seat like a jack-in-the-box, sweat on his lip, white-knuckled grip on his carry-on bag.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
His eyes were wide as we careened around a corner. “I didn’t want to say anything, but—”
“But what?” I slid back to my side of the seat.
“But I have a problem with water.”
“As in, you’re worried about how clean the beaches will be? Or worried about drinking it?”
“More like worried about deep, deep water…and drowning.”
I sighed, remembering Max’s nausea and white face on our ferry ride to Martha’s Vineyard a month ago. “You waited until we were minutes from boarding a cruise ship to tell me you’re afraid of drowning?”
“Shhh!” he spit out. “It’s not something I want the whole world to know.”
Sort of how I felt about being related to Phyllis. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Like maybe when I told you we won the cruise?”
He rolled his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to miss out.”
“Terrific. Now what?”
“As long as I don’t go anywhere near the ocean, I’ll be fine.”
“Going to be kind of hard on a cruise ship, don’t you think?”
Bad enough I had my family vacationing with me, Candace on board, and Jock planting lustful thoughts in my head. Now I had Max’s phobia to deal with, too. What else could happen?
My gaze wandered to where Jock leaned against the dashboard of the bus. He had one leg down on the step, at ease, like a tour guide. He talked comfortably with the bus driver and, as if sensing my eyes on him, turned his head and winked.
I jerked down in my seat, my skin suddenly hot. I squeezed my eyes tight, picturing the upcoming week. Hot lazy days. Long sweaty nights. Bikinis. Swim trunks. Tanned, oily skin. Drinks with tiny umbrellas. Dancing, romantic locations, being under the same roof, knowing Jock was only seconds away. Whew. I forced open my eyes, my heart beating wildly. This was not a good idea. Jock and I together on a cruise.
“Right.” My throat thickened. “I can handle this.” There was no way I’d be swept into the Jock de Marco lair. As long as I stayed away from the piña coladas, I’d be good.
Max cut me a look. “What can you handle? And why are you halfway to the floor?”
“What? Nothing.” I straightened in my seat.
He nudged me, fanning himself with a brochure. “Speaking of handling things, looks like Jock’s on the hunt, and you’re the prey.”
I grabbed the brochure out of Max’s hand. “In another hour, Jock will be swatting off bikini beach babes. And a minute ago, you were fretting about deep water.”
He ripped the pamphlet out of my hand. “Thanks for reminding me.”
My mind shifted from beach babes to the new police babe Romero was flying off to California with on a case. Belinda. Yuck. To add insult to injury, when he’d phoned to share the news, I could hear her silky voice in the background, asking for a file. He’d faded for a moment, presumably looking for the file, and then they’d mumbled something to each other. Last thing I caught was the sound of her flirty laugh.
Steam piped out my ears at the memory. I’d heard other women laugh like that around Romero, a laugh that implied they were his for the taking. Not something I liked to think about.
I wasn’t sure what Romero and I had, but when he’d indicated he wanted a relationship, I presumed he meant more than a casual association. Yet what if I was wrong? What if he merely wanted another playmate to fit his hectic work schedule, like the playmates who’d decorated his past, no strings attached?
Maybe I was too much effort. So what if I wasn’t playmate material. Ooh. Being with Romero made me too vulnerable, too emotional, too crazy. We couldn’t even get through a conversation without wanting to kill each other. Then again, amid the hollering and doubting, there’d also been kind acts, caressing, and plenty of sexual tension. At times, I was so close to ripping off his clothes, it was like my nipples were on permanent standby.
I tapped my fingers on my lap, trying to think about something else. But the truth was, I wanted to know what Romero was up to. He said he’d call from California. Why hadn’t he? Was he ticked because Jock was going on the cruise? The tension between them was palpable. Maybe Romero had never truly accepted the fact that Jock worked at Beaumont’s. Or was he too busy with his new partner to call? Oh hell. I tugged out my cell phone and pulled up his name.
Max eyed the screen and shot me a look.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m not saying a word.”
“You think I’m wrong to phon
e him.”
“You mean to check up on him.”
Just once I’d love for Max not to be so bloody perceptive. And why did I tell him about Romero in the first place? “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“What do you call it? And your nose is twitching.”
Darn. I pinched my nose. “Maybe I’m phoning to apologize.”
“Apologize!” He slapped my hand away from my face. “For what?”
I shoved my phone back in my bag. “Nothing, okay? I’m not calling. Period.”
The bus squealed to a stop, and everyone but Tantig and Max swiveled their heads to the windows.
Max gripped the headrest in front, his face pale green. “Can you see water?”
Kashi’s glasses steamed up. “Lots and lots of water! That is what I call a cruise ship!”
“Feeling Hot Hot Hot” blared from a distant speaker, and everybody hopped off the bus and formed a conga line. Max squeezed his eyes tight and put a death grip on my arm until we cleared any sign of water and were inside the cavernous cruise terminal.
After we went through security, showed our cruise documents, and had our pictures taken, we stepped sweaty but elated onto the ship.
The festive atmosphere gave me goose bumps, and I was all but salivating at the smells that were an intoxicating mix of the sea, coconut oil, and something extraordinary. Probably our dinner being prepared by a world-class chef.
We waited in line to shake hands with Captain Madera, and Max got all dreamy.
“Isn’t he handsome?” He gazed at the captain, his color miraculously restored. “All that premature white hair and gorgeous tanned skin. So debonair.”
We were inching along when Lucy shoved past us with a big blue suitcase. “Will you get out of the way!”
In Lucy’s wake strode a tall redhead toting a white snakeskin suitcase, her beautiful hair flowing down her bare shoulders onto a white cotton dress. “Lucy,” she said gently, “these people have been waiting ahead of us.”
“And you’re telling me this because?” Lucy cocked her head up at the redhead. “I’ve got to get a good spot by the pool and plan my attack on this contest.” She put her little hands on her hips. “You know how hard I work, Sabrina. I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” She nodded at her suitcase. “Which is why I said not to leave our bags with any dumbass porters to lose between the dock and our room. Now grab the heavy thing for me.”
Sabrina planted her feet firmly. “You go ahead. I’ll see you later.”
Lucy gave her a mean glare. She clutched her suitcase, gave a salute to the captain, and bopped the bag down the steps behind her into the ship.
“Bravo!” Max said in a hushed tone.
Sabrina turned to Max and me as if she’d forgotten there were people around. “Lucy’s not that bad.” She grinned. “She’s just straightforward, honest, and…”
“Bossy?” Max finished, then put on a bright smile for the captain.
We all shook hands with the captain, then veered over to a Beauty Cruise sign-in desk. We got our packages, and Sabrina fell into an easy conversation with us about the makeover contest. “Lucy’s determined she’s going home with that contest money.” She sighed. “If nothing else, she’s got self-confidence.” She dug into her package. “Look, the rules.”
Max opened his package and scanned the rules. “If I win, I could buy that hot tub I’ve had my eye on.” He smiled. “Or maybe I’ll take up golfing.”
While Max was mentally spending his winnings, I thought about the talent I’d be competing against. Now that I was here, it was sinking in that this wasn’t a simple local contest with a gift-card prize to Friar Tuck’s Donuts. Five thousand dollars could buy a lot of things.
“If you win, lovey, what are you going to spend the money on?”
I gave a small smile. “The new children’s wing at the hospital. They’re close to reaching their goal, and I figure I can help out a bit.” Actually, I’d pledged to help out a lot. So far, I’d only donated the equivalent to a new pair of shoes. Expensive shoes, but still. Sure, I could add a few updates in the salon, buy some new equipment, and get ahead on my mortgage. But then I thought about playing Mon Sac Est Ton Sac—my made-up hairdressing game—with the hospital kids. I’d empty my bag on one of the beds, and they’d adorn me with bows and false lashes and nail polish, and the beauty of it was, there were no rules or guarantees I wouldn’t look like a clown. I warmed inside, recalling their squeals of laughter at my appearance after they’d finished beautifying me. Yes, their need for an improved environment easily topped my needs.
“Oh brother.” Phyllis dropped her carry-on in a heap. “Who are you anyway? Mother Teresa? Why don’t you spend it on something big?”
Max turned to Phyllis as though he’d cruelly been reminded she was on board. “Like a side of beef?”
Phyllis went starry-eyed. “Like a thousand lottery tickets.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Max said. “Win it, and then lose it.”
The boat swayed slightly, and Phyllis gagged, bending forward. “Uhhhhh, I don’t feel well.”
So much for her new diet being off to a good start. I dropped my stuff at my feet, and before I could reach out to help, she threw up all over Max’s shoes.
* * *
An hour later, after a routine safety drill and lecture on lifeboat stations, passengers went off to play shuffleboard, mini-golf, and search for the casino for when it opened later. My parents, Tantig, Max, and I settled on the lower deck around the pool, watching activities from the sidelines until our early dinner seating. Phyllis was in our cabin turning different shades of green.
There was nonstop action all around us. A group of sports jocks at the far end of the pool slugged back Coronas and laughed at football bloopers playing on a mega-screen on the upper deck. Candace was in the middle of the group, laughing it up with them. One tiny man with a willowy white beard sat, head resting on his arm, at the edge of the bar, getting a head start on becoming the happy-hour drunk. More power to him. The strongest drink I was going to swig was a Shirley Temple.
I ordered a tall glass and looked from a group of people splashing in the water to others basking in the sun. This looked like a good idea to me. I dragged a lounge chair out into the sun and dug into the contest rules.
Max had his chair back five feet in the shade next to Tantig, crossword-puzzle book from the beauty package under his nose, sangria in hand. “Tantig,” he said, “what’s a six-letter word for revenge?”
Tantig didn’t turn an inch, but I did catch her eyes roll skyward. “Who-hk cares?”
“Listen to this,” I said over my shoulder to Max. “Contestants will be given three hours to produce the finished look on their model. Any means of treatment may be used.”
Max flopped his crossword down. “I can’t wait! I’m going to give them one hundred percent Max in this competition!”
My father stared blankly at Max like nothing he said would ever surprise him. Given Max’s flamboyancy, that was probably a good thing. He looked at his watch and grumbled that he might as well stroll the deck if supper wasn’t for another hour. God forbid we make my father wait until eight o’clock to stuff Alaskan king crab down his throat. He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered away. Likely thinking how nice a Cuban cigar would taste right about now.
My mother jammed sneakers onto Tantig’s feet, then plunked a hat onto her head and tied the ribbons into a huge bow under her chin. Tantig looked like Scarlett O’Hara with wrinkles.
“What are you do-ink?” she asked my mother.
“Getting you ready for a walk as Dr. Stucker recommended.”
“I’m going to fire Stuck-air,” Tantig said. “I wear a pacemake-air. I can’t exercise.”
“Dr. Stucker knows best,” my mother said. “You can’t sit and watch soaps on the satellite channel all week. You can walk every morning while we’re here.”
Tantig clicked her tongue and allowed my mother to drag her
away.
I sipped on my Shirley Temple, lowered my sunglasses onto my nose, and lay back in my lounge chair, relaxing to the sounds of splashing and laughter.
“I’m going for a dip,” Max said. “It’s hot as Hades out here, and it looks like they’re getting water volleyball going.” He stopped at my chair and looked down pointedly. “Coming? Or are you still thinking about that six-letter word for revenge?”
Wiseass, needling me about Romero. If sarcasm were a country, Max would be queen. “I thought you needed to stay away from water.”
“Pools are different,” he said. “Those, I can see the bottom.”
“Then go ahead. I’ll be in later.”
“Suit yourself.” He stood at the water’s edge, towel around his waist.
Lucy darted by out of nowhere and ripped Max’s towel away from him.
“Hey!” Max shouted. “Did you see that? She stole my towel! That mini Jezebel.”
“Jezebel was a seductress,” I corrected, “not a thief.”
“I don’t care if she was a high priestess. She stole my towel.” He took off flat-footed after her. “Jezebel!” he screamed until he was out of earshot.
Grinning, I closed my eyes and slid the contest rules under my leg.
The sun’s rays were warming my skin when a hush fell over the deck. For a moment, the splashing calmed, and music stopped. Then I heard intense gasping as if a UFO had been spotted in the sky. Suddenly, something blocked the sun.
I squinted my eyes open at Jock, standing at the foot of my lounge chair, shades on his nose, towel slung over his shoulders, swim trunks low on his hips. Thor of the twenty-first century. A UFO wouldn’t get half the attention.
I glanced at the women on either side of me, holding their breath. In a blink, they guzzled their margaritas and averted their gazes to the pool.
Jock sat, straddling the edge of my lounge chair. He pushed back my feet with his hands, the crescent-shaped scar on his ribs from his navy days hidden under his towel. “You’re getting red.”
Murder, Curlers, and Cruises Page 2
