Black Widow

by Kristi Belcamino

  As we walked out, I glanced back and saw the woman on the dance floor doing a slow sexy dance. Her eyes were on Natasha.

  Chapter Five

  You Can’t Compete with a Dead Woman

  Lying in the dark in my ridiculously comfortable bed in my luxurious suite, I examined my feelings as I started to drift off to sleep. Lying in bed before I fell asleep was the witching hour for me. It was always the most difficult time of the day. I often tried to find that line between buzzed enough to not let my grief overcome me and so shit-faced I just wept until morning and had no control in blocking thoughts of Bobby.

  Tonight, I was surprised to realize I wasn’t grief-stricken. I was melancholy, yes. I was lonely, yes. But sometime tonight, I’d latched onto a nearly forgotten feeling: hope and anticipation. This new friendship with Natasha had given me a reason to look forward to waking up in the morning.

  I was up early and threw on a navy, sleeveless sundress, leather flip flops, and huge, dark sunglasses and headed for the front desk. On the way, I peered out the window. We’d arrived in Ibiza earlier.

  Brilliant turquoise seas were scattered with sailboat masts. Beyond the shore lay a hillside jam-packed with squared, whitewashed buildings dotted with dark windows. From the sea, it looked like all the buildings were right on top of one another.

  All I knew of Ibiza was that it was the party playground to celebrities, but I was willing to check it out.

  Once at the front desk, I examined the brochure again. Natasha appeared at my side.

  “Oh good, you’re up.” She squeezed my elbow and then let her fingernails trail down my arm. Vaguely, I remembered her brushing her breast up against my bare arm last night and wondered again if it was just a coincidence.

  Either way, I was happy for her company on this ship.

  After we signed up for the excursions, Natasha turned to me.

  “I was hoping you’d come ashore with Henry and me today. Some of his old friends invited us to their villa for lunch and a swim. They are Henry’s friends from forever ago and knew his deceased wife, so I’m a little nervous. Every time I meet friends he had when he was married before, I feel like they’re judging me. They never give me a chance. You can’t compete with a dead woman, you know.”

  “Yeah, I bet that sucks.”

  “She was apparently pretty amazing,” Natasha said, as we walked over to the rail to take in Ibiza. “A human rights attorney. Traveled to Chernobyl to help people. Worked with lepers. Blah. Blah. Blah. And beautiful. I can’t compete. I’m just some dumb twenty-five-year-old who grew up in the Ukraine and doesn’t even have a college degree.”

  “Stop that. You’re smart and fun and gorgeous,” I said.

  “You’d be doing me a favor if you came along. I wouldn’t feel so awkward and out of sorts.”

  “Sure.” My quick response surprised me. But I couldn’t help it, I wanted to spend time with Natasha. Another woman had never sought out my friendship like this before. It felt good.

  She leaned over and kissed my cheek, close to my mouth. “Meet us at eleven at the Aloha Deck. That’s where we disembark.”

  “Deal.”

  As I walked away, a small part of me wondered about the breast brushing and the trailing fingers and the kiss near my mouth. But then again, maybe all women were affectionate like this with their friends. How the fuck would I know? I’d never had a friend like this before.

  At eleven, I showed up on deck still in my sundress, but had added a black straw fedora and black woven basket to use as a bag. Inside, I’d tucked my turquoise bikini, a small rolled up Turkish towel, a joint, and a small flask, in case the party got boring.

  The villa was fantastic. Perched on a cliff side overlooking the water. The far end of the pool sported a massive concrete arch framing a spectacular view of the sea below.

  The partygoers clustered together, catching up, while Natasha and I headed to the pool. As Natasha had mentioned, most of the women were older, closer to Henry’s age. They wore filmy caftans over their swimsuits and slides with kitten heels as they pranced around the pool holding martini glasses high and nibbling on small canapes being proffered by three handsome waiters.

  Natasha and I staked out comfy lounge chairs by the pool. I sipped on a fruity cocktail that one of the cute waiters had handed me and then lay flat, pulling my hat over my eyes. The sun soaking into my skin was just the healing I needed. Sometimes I wondered why the hell I even lived in foggy San Francisco. My Italian body craved the warmth of the sun. It was pure medicine.

  “This is heavenly,” I said.

  Natasha didn’t answer. I sat up. She’d fallen asleep on her stomach. Her pale skin was turning a little pink. I looked for Henry. He was deep in conversation with a group of men. The circle of women, staked out a table under an umbrella, occasionally shot looks our way. Fuck ’em.

  I draped my Turkish towel over Natasha’s back, trying not to wake her, but she sat up sleepily.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was worried you’d burn.”

  “Oh my God. Yes. How silly of me. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She stretched languidly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  She blushed.

  “Really?” I said, and winked. “Don’t make me jealous. I’m here solo.”

  “Ha. You won’t be for long.” She took a long sip of her drink. “Henry may be older, but with help from his little blue pills, he is a most excellent lover.”

  I remembered what she’d said about not being able to get pregnant yet. Obviously, it had nothing to do with Henry’s sexual prowess.

  “Good for you.”

  She giggled, that same tinkling, infectious laugh. The women and the men all turned and looked. I raised my glass to them in a toast, and they all turned away again—the men smiling, and the women rolling their eyes.

  “Listen,” Natasha leaned forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m awfully sorry about your boyfriend. Have you had sex since then?”

  I stared at her, unsure how to answer. I didn’t want to lie and tell her no, but I wasn’t sure she needed to know the extent of my debauchery in that department. Plus, it had been a while. I’d been holed up solitary in my loft for weeks.

  I settled on shrugging.

  “I can tell. You need to get laid.”

  I had no idea what made her think that, but I figured her assessment was right. When I didn’t protest, she smiled.

  “Okay then, it’s settled. Let’s find you a lover for this trip. I saw quite a few eligible men on board. They were all at the pool this morning, working on their tans.”

  “The Greek boys?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Not for a relationship but an onboard fling, Perfect.”

  “Yeah, you might be right. No strings attached. Just great sex.”

  She settled back into her chair. “It’s settled then. Tonight, we hit the bar after dinner and find you a lover. Don’t worry, I’ll help. I used to slay at that. I could probably dig up some old tricks.”

  I nodded. I didn’t tell her that was one area where I’d never needed any help.

  A commotion near the sliding glass door to the house made me sit up at the same time Natasha gasped.

  It was that woman in black. She wore a black maxi sundress and a man’s fedora. She was barefoot and carried a straw bag. I envied her effortless chic.

  Natasha groaned beside me. “I was hoping for one day without her around.”

  I kept my eyes plastered on Henry. He didn’t seem ruffled, but he also didn’t seem overly interested in the woman’s sudden appearance, either.

  “What’s Henry think of her stalking you guys?” I said.

  “He says she’s harmless, but he’s also such a good guy, he doesn’t see how evil she really is.”

  Evil.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s the black widow.”

  I sat up. “Explain.”

  Natasha reached for her drink. “Her last husband disappeared. Poof. Van
ished one day. She inherited all his fortune, which was quite substantial.”

  “Her last husband?”

  “Yeah, he was number five or something.”

  “Give me the scoop,” I said.

  “I’m going to need to be more drunk to spend more than a nanosecond talking about her, but I don’t want to refill my glass.”

  We both eyed the bar, which was just beyond where the woman stood in the center of the group of women.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I said.

  Rummaging in my basket, I found a joint I’d bought onshore in Barcelona and my pink plastic lighter. I put the joint between my lips and jutted my chin toward the group in the shade. “You think they’ll object?”

  Natasha took the lighter out of my hands and lit the end of the joint. “I don’t give a fuck.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon dozing and giggling and taking dips in the pool. The other women stayed in the shade, gathered around a table talking. Fine by me.

  I’d managed to avoid meeting the woman in black until it was time to return to the ship. We wanted to make it back in time for the eight o’clock dinner hour because we’d be dining at the captain’s table.

  At that point, everyone had moved inside and we followed. Natasha went ahead of me and disappeared down a hallway with Henry. I stood there, awkwardly.

  The woman in black came over and extended her hand.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said with a smile. “I’m Sharon Long.”

  “Gia Santella.” I took her hand firmly.

  “You are a new friend of the Ainsley’s?” Her blue eyes were probing and didn’t match her warm smile.

  It took me a minute to realize she was referring to Henry and Natasha. I nodded.

  “Well, any friend of Henry’s is a friend of mine.” This time her smile reached her eyes.

  I was taken aback. She was charming. But my loyalty was to my new friend, so I gave a small smile. “Nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Taking off down the hall, I found Natasha and Henry in the dark in an embrace.

  “Sorry.” I backed away.

  Natasha laughed. “Oh, good. I was just going to go find you. Our driver is outside.”

  We piled into the town car that would take us back to the ship. Henry was in good spirits. And for good reason. Natasha stuck her hand in his lap and groped him right in front of me. His eyes were glazed. He was drunk and grinning like a fool. I tried to look out the window to give them some privacy, but before it got too hot and heavy, we were at the dock where a small boat would take us to our ship.

  Once we were aboard, Natasha and Henry probably didn’t even hear me say goodbye as they headed to their cabin, stopping to kiss every few feet.

  “See you at dinner,” I said lamely to their backs.

  Natasha was right. It was time for me to take a new lover.

  Chapter Six

  Fire Needs Oxygen

  At dinner, Natasha and I got to sit on either side of the captain, a distinguished looking German man with gray hair and moustache, a ready smile, and a military bearing.

  I scanned the dining room. The woman in black, Sharon Long, was nowhere to be seen.

  After we received some tiny toasts with pate to munch on before the main course, Natasha leaned forward and addressed the captain.

  “Captain, please don’t think I’m a big baby, but I have an irrational fear of fire and being on board a ship in the middle of the ocean is a little bit out of my comfort zone.”

  Henry, on her other side, widened his eyes. “Oh my, darling, I didn’t even think. You should’ve said something.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t want you to cancel the trip. It’s fine.”

  The captain smiled. “It’s a logical question and a reasonable concern. We have a few methods to contain the spread of fire onboard. Most of our compartments, especially ones that are vital to the functioning of the ship, such as the engine room and the communications room, are airtight so they can be sealed off from the rest of the ship in the event of a fire.”

  Natasha blinked. “But if the engine room burns up, we still are in trouble, no?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But within the airtight chambers—and in all suites and cabins, basically every room onboard—we have a series of stop-gap measures to put the fire out automatically. Sensors triggered from smoke will activate the system. It extinguishes the fire in two ways. The first is through the traditional method of sprinklers. At the same time, we have a superb, high-tech manner to fight the fire.”

  “You’ve got my attention,” I said and took another sip of my wine without taking my eyes off of him.

  “Researchers in Denmark discovered a crystalline substance stemming from cobalt that will suck all the oxygen out of the air. And as you know, fire needs oxygen to live.”

  “This substance drops, along with the water from the sprinklers into the room. It is invisible to the naked eye, but even a teaspoon of it absorbs all the oxygen in a good-size room.”

  “Fascinating,” I said and looked at Natasha. She winked.

  “And that’s not the half of it,” the captain said.

  Natasha leaned forward, eyes glassy. “All the oxygen is sucked out of the room, you say?”

  The captain nodded. She sat back.

  “What is particularly interesting about this substance is not that such a small amount of it can hold so much oxygen—although that is quite remarkable in itself. The part that is exciting to me, is it not only holds and contains the oxygen, but it does not damage it, and with heat and other methods, the oxygen can be released from the crystalline substance and return to its original molecular form.”

  “Huh?” I was contemplating the potential of that when the captain held up a finger.

  “This means that people, say, who currently need oxygen in a big tank, could carry just a small mask. How interesting is that?”

  I smiled widely at his enthusiasm.

  Just then Henry leaned in. “Say, what’s the name of the company that discovered the crystalline substance? I bet it would be something my firm will want to look into.”

  I tuned out the rest of the conversation. The last thing I wanted to think about was venture capitalism. I knew that ball of wax was waiting for me back at home in San Francisco. I’d deal with it then. I was on vacation.

  After the captain excused himself and the dessert plates were cleared, Natasha kissed Henry on the cheek. “Go smoke that fancy cigar I bought you. Gia and I are going to go change and then head to the club to dance. Don’t wait up, lover. It’s going to be a late one. We’re finding Gia a beau.”

  He chuckled and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I doubt you’ll have any trouble with that.”

  The smile I gave him was genuine. He was such a sweet man. He obviously doted on Natasha and made her happy. He was filthy rich, though not pretentious, and so easygoing. He’d proven that with his uptight friends at the party. Natasha could do no wrong. He didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought. He loved her. I needed a man like that. Maybe that attitude came with age. Maybe I’d been looking at men too young. Maybe an older, sophisticated man was the way to go. The captain was attractive with his power and intelligence and passion. But I wasn’t quite ready to go for a gray-haired man just yet. One step at a time.

  When we walked into the club this time, heads turned.

  We’d shed our floor-length dinner gowns.

  Natasha had changed into a white blazer with nothing underneath and a tight white miniskirt with sky-high heels. I wore a black silk shirt unbuttoned to there and a black leather skirt with strappy black heels.

  Ignoring the stares, I headed to the bar with Natasha behind me.

  I gulped my bourbon straight up and ordered another while Natasha sipped on a mojito.

  They were the only drinks we would buy ourselves that night. The drinks and attention kept coming. A young Greek man with a regal nose begged Natasha to join him on the
dance floor. She winked and gave me a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

  The man’s friend, another Greek with curly black hair, earnestly told me about how he’d dreamed of me the night before.

  “I like your scar.” He drew one finger down my cheekbone. Mention of my scar made me wince. Not because it marred my face, but because it was a constant reminder that an albino psycho was still out there somewhere, probably thinking of me.

  But I smiled back at the boy even as I thought “think of something original.”

  He ordered another drink for me, and I eagerly sucked it down. It would take a lot of booze for me to stop thinking tonight. All I wanted was to feel. Not think.

  By the time he switched to French, telling me how sexy I was, I felt no pain. His hand was on my bare thigh, and I liked it. He had girlish long, black eyelashes and sincere black eyes. His lips were pink and looked soft, so I leaned over and bit the lower one gently.

  “Eíste tóso séxi,” he said in Greek.

  The only word I understood was “sexy.” I pulled back and laughed.

  “Agapi mou. Se thelo! Anasa mou,” he said.

  “I have no idea what you are saying.”

  “You know how to speak this, then, no?” He leaned over and kissed my neck.

  “Oh, that language I do know.”

  He would do.

  I searched for Natasha on the dark dance floor. I didn’t see her white-clad figure among the grinding bodies. I wanted to tell her goodbye before I brought this boy back to my room.

  He nibbled on my ear and tugged on my hand.

  Turning, I searched the corners of the club. That’s when I spotted her deep in a corner booth. I could only see her profile, her head tilted, kissing a blond woman. Natasha ran her fingers through the other woman’s hair, pulling her close. Their faces appeared like snapshots as the dance floor’s flickering strobe light periodically flashed on them. Then Natasha pulled away, and the blonde woman threw her head back against the velvet cushion of the booth and closed her eyes, mouth open. Natasha’s hands were busy somewhere under the table.