by Amber Crewes
“I’ll have Hugo let you know the details,” the Captain informed her.
Jack looked around the crowded boat. “Captain, can I ask you a question?”
“Absolutely.”
“You said you spent time here as a boy, yeah?”
“Every summer for fifteen years,” the Captain boasted.
“What’s the deal with the curse?” Jack asked bluntly. “Hugo was telling us some story about ancient spirits, and it spooked my wife.”
Meghan bit her lip. “It wasn’t just some story,” Meghan insisted, jabbing her husband in the side with her elbow. “Something was up with the village; we were the only ones who went to explore. Everyone else went off on a spa excursion. Surely there was a reason for that… perhaps that curse?”
The Captain furrowed his brow. “A curse? Hmmm. That’s a strange story. I wonder where that came from…”
Jack shrugged. “I think it’s nothing; I’ve been telling my wife to forget about it.”
“I think that’s best,” the Captain agreed. “It isn’t a good idea to get carried away with fairy-tales, my dear…”
Meghan’s eyes widened. “Fairy-tales?” she replied, feeling offended. She was a grown woman, and she didn’t appreciate the Captain’s condescending tone.
“Well, here we are,” the Captain remarked as the small boat pulled up to the landing beside the cruise ship. “It was such a pleasure talking with you both; I hope you have a fantastic honeymoon and enjoy the rest of your time on the ship. Please let me know if you need anything.”
They watched as the Captain stood from his seat and moved to the front of the boat to disembark. “What a nice guy,” Jack smiled. “That was a pleasant surprise.”
Meghan wrinkled her nose. “He seemed a little dodgy when we asked about the curse, don’t you think?”
Jack sighed. “Meghan, I think you need to let it go,” he urged her. “There have been a few mishaps on this honeymoon, but I think we need to look at the positives and not search for trouble. I want us to remember this time as the best vacation we’ve ever had. Let’s try to focus on the good things… like meeting the Captain!”
Meghan shrugged. “I’ll do my best,” she promised him. “I’ll do my best.”
Jack and Meghan returned to their suite, both exhausted from the long day. Jack proudly displayed their family totem pole by the front door, and Meghan smiled each time she saw it; it was such a sweet gesture by her new husband, and she was touched by his excitement for their family.
“What should we do tonight?” Jack asked as they lounged on the couch in their pajamas. “We’re at sea for the next few days, so we have time for exploring. Would you rather stay in or go out tonight?”
Meghan thought for a moment. “Let’s go out,” she decided as she imagined them going dancing in the grand ballroom, twirling around in their best clothes. “I think a romantic date night is just what we need.”
Jack beamed. “I was hoping you would say that. How about you go take time and get ready and I’ll arrange our plans? Go draw yourself a bath, have a glass of wine, and recharge while I get everything settled.”
Meghan kissed her husband on the lips. “You are so good to me,” she told Jack. “I can’t wait for our date tonight, baby!”
Two hours later, Meghan emerged from the walk-in closet in a floor-length crimson velvet gown with a dramatic plunging v-neckline. The fabric hugged Meghan’s curves, and she knew she looked good as she strode into the living room to show off her outfit to her husband.
“Meghan Irvin,” he gasped as she spun around for him, showing off her dress. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Are you sure you want to be my wife?”
She stuck her tongue out playfully. “I think it’s too late to question that,” she joked, holding up her left hand and flashing her ring at him. “You don’t look bad yourself.”
Jack grinned. Dressed in a black tuxedo, he looked dapper with his blonde hair slicked back. “We make a handsome couple, don’t we?”
“I think we do,” she smiled as she flipped her wavy hair behind her back. “What are we doing tonight? Dancing? A show?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Guess again.”
“A gourmet dinner? An opera?”
“Not even close.”
She tugged on his jacket. “Babe, just tell me. I can’t take the anticipation anymore.”
He grinned. “We are going to the ship’s casino!”
“The casino,” she said half-heartedly. “Oh…”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Is that okay?”
Seeing the worried look on her husband’s face, Meghan made herself smile. “Absolutely, baby. I can’t wait.”
Relief washed over his face. “Oh good; I thought you were going to tell me that you didn’t like casinos.”
He was right; Meghan hated casinos. When she was younger, her father always went to one near their house with his business associates, and he would come home smelling like cigarettes. In college, she had gone out to a few casinos with her girlfriends, and she was less than impressed with the atmosphere and clientele.
“Let’s go,” Jack said, taking her hand and winding it around his elbow. “Let’s have a great night.”
The casino was grand; with high-painted ceilings featuring original murals, gold marble floors, and several hundred machines and games, Meghan found herself surprisingly impressed. A live jazz band played in the far corner, and Jack proudly led her to the center of the room. “I reserved a table for us,” he explained. “Right over there. We can have some appetizers sent to us and enjoy some drinks, and then we’ll hit the tables.”
“That sounds great,” she agreed, feeling hopeful that they would’ve a fun evening together. “A glass of red sounds perfect.”
He smiled and took her hand, leading her to a private table set for two. “Here we are.”
Meghan sat down, and a waiter brought them a tray of appetizers. “These are fantastic,” she praised as she tried a fresh prawn dipped in a tomato basil sauce. “This food might be the best I’ve had on the ship.”
“You are right,” Jack agreed as he inhaled a lemon chicken rice paper wrap. “We should’ve dinner here every night!”
They enjoyed their small plates, each serving proving better than the last. “This was a good idea,” Meghan told her husband. “I was a little nervous about coming to a casino, but this is so nice and tasteful.”
“I thought you would like it,” Jack’s eyes sparkled.
Just then, Meghan saw Reuben strut through the doors. His face was a deep shade of red, and his stride was off-kilter. “He looks drunk,” Meghan whispered as Reuben tripped over his own shoes.
“What a mess,” Jack commented as Reuben stumbled to another table. “I hope he doesn’t come over here.”
Reuben high-fived a casino patron before wandering over to a crowded roulette table. “Move out of the way,” he roared as a gentleman and his wife walked in front of Reuben. “The big dog is here. Move out of the way.”
An attendant scurried over, a worried look on her face. “Sir,” she said. “Sir, please come with me. We can’t have intoxicated patrons in the casino.”
He shrugged her off of him. “Get out of my way,” he laughed in her face. “Don’t you know who you are talking to?”
She shook her head. “Sir, please,” she repeated. “Please, just come with me.”
He glared at her. “I’m trying to make bets, sweetheart,” he scowled. “Leave me alone.”
“He’s acting like such a jerk to her,” Meghan muttered to her husband. “Maybe you should step in?”
Before Jack could spring into action, the doors swung open, and three security officers ran over to Reuben. They grabbed his arms, swinging his hands behind his back, and the burliest officer placed a pair of handcuffs on him.
“Get off of me,” Reuben yelled, his words nearly incoherent. “What are you doing?”
“Please calm down,” the official insisted. “Calm down
and don’t make a fuss.”
“Why are you taking me away?” Reuben screeched. “What did I ever do?”
The jazz music stopped, and everyone in the casino heard the officer’s booming voice, “you are being taken away to be questioned for the murder of Oliver Winterburn.”
18
The next morning, Meghan awoke to light streaming into the bedroom; Jack had opened the curtains, and sunshine was pouring into the room through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Meghan was exhausted from the previous night; by the time she and Jack had returned from the casino after Reuben had been dragged out, it was nearly one in the morning, and her head pounded as the bright morning light flooded the room.
“Babe,” she grumbled. “Close the curtains. I’m sleeping.”
He came over to her and climbed back into bed. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We have a fun day at sea ahead of us.”
She pulled a pillow over her head and turned on her side. “Jack, we’re on vacation. I want to sleep in.”
He removed the pillow and kissed her on the forehead. “Someone is grumpy this morning,” he joked as she glared at him. “You were so cute in your sleep, and I couldn’t stand another minute of hanging out without you.”
She sat up, leaning on her elbows. “Cute? How so?”
He grinned. “You were muttering a tiramisu recipe in your sleep, babe. I knew you loved your work, but I didn’t realize you were a baker in your dreams as well. It was so cute.”
Just then, they heard a pounding at the front door. “Not again,” Jack scowled.
“Security?” Meghan asked sleepily. “Do you think they want to talk to you again?”
“I hope not,” he told her. “Let’s just hope it’s Laia, or Hugo. Heck, I would rather deal with Mrs. Sheridan at this early hour than talk to a security official.”
Jack went out to the living room to answer the door. “Babe? Can you come here for a moment?” he called out to Meghan.
She lazily walked into the living room and gasped. Dressed in a matching lavender athletic outfit was Celia Hendon. “Hey, Meghan. Ready to hit the gym?”
Meghan shook her head. “What? I didn’t book an appointment…”
Celia smiled kindly. “You didn’t have to. You did such a nice job in our workout, and I wanted to make sure we had more time together. Bright and early is the best time for a workout, so I decided to come find you. Get dressed. We’ll hit the gym and be back before seven.”
“Before seven?” Meghan asked as she rubbed her eyes. “What time is it now?”
“Five forty-five,” Celia chirped. “The early bird gets the worm, you know.”
Meghan crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I don’t want the worm?”
Celia gave her a look. “You seem to be making a lot of excuses, Meghan. Is there a problem?”
Jack looked at her. “Babe, why don’t you go with Celia? Working out will wake you up, and afterward, we can relax all day.”
“Yeah!” Celia exclaimed. “Jack, that’s a great idea. We’ll have a little girls’ workout session, and after, the pair of you can relax. What do you think, Meghan?”
She frowned, but nodded her head in agreement. “Fine.”
Ten minutes later, Meghan and Celia walked into the gym. There weren’t many guests yet, but Meghan recognized Laia lifting weights in the corner. “Hey,” she waved as Laia turned around to smile at her.
“Hola,” Laia greeted them, kissing Meghan and Celia on both cheeks. “Good morning, ladies.”
Celia examined Laia’s weights. “Do you want a bigger set, Laia?” she asked. “We’ve been doing the fifteens all week...what do you think about upgrading to the twenty-pound weights?”
Laia politely declined. “I have to maintain my current muscle tone so I can fit into my costumes. I can’t bulk up, or even dream of having real curves,” she explained. “Meghan, you are so lucky; you have the perfect figure. With your curves, you look like a real woman. I’ll always have to be stick-thin if I want to stay in my industry.”
Meghan laughed. “Being stick-thin sounds like a great problem to have,” she commented, but Laia shook her head.
“It means I can’t eat what I want, drink what I want, or sleep in,” she explained. “For example, I only eat freshly grilled tuna steaks and spinach for lunch, egg whites for breakfast, and beef tartar for dinner. If I deviate from that diet plan, my weight goes up, and I won’t fit into my costumes.”
Meghan pursed her lips. “But... you’re a famous popstar. Can’t you just have new costumes made?”
Laia laughed. “It doesn’t work like that,” she said, bending over to pick up her weight and lift it over her head. “I have to look consistent in my videos and appearances. It’s just the way it is.”
Laia began her tricep extension lift, and Meghan watched in awe. “You’re really strong,” she complimented.
“Women have to be strong,” Laia insisted.
“You could be that strong,” Celia chimed in. “Meghan, if we get you on the proper diet and regimen right now…”
Laia shook her head. “Oh, Celia. Meghan is a normal woman. She doesn’t need a fancy diet or workouts. Meghan, what’s it that you do for work?”
“I own and operate a bakery.”
“See?” Laia said with conviction. “She runs a bakery. She needs to be able to eat and try her menu items, not worry about her diet. I bet she has a wonderful life running a bakery, don’t you, Meghan?”
Meghan shook her head. “I have had many wonderful things happen in my life,” she began, sitting down to retie her left shoe. “But with everything in life, there are challenges. I’ve had to rethink my business strategies a few times, I’ve had some troubles with my parents... we all have our problems.”
Laia wrinkled her forehead. “But I’m sure you don’t have paparazzi creeping around you, or worries that you’ll end up on the cover of a tabloid.”
“That’s true” Meghan agreed, watching annoyance cross Celia’s face.
“Meghan, are you ready to start?” the trainer asked. “We need to start our circuits…”
“Oh, Celia, calm down,” Laia chided her. “Meghan, I love performing, and I love sharing Catalan music and our beautiful history and culture with the people of the world. Sometimes though, I just wish I could be invisible... like you!”
“Umm... thanks?” Meghan replied, not sure if she should feel offended or not.
“I mean that in the best way,” Laia insisted. “I fantasize about retiring to a more private life someday. When I step away from the music industry, I want to open my own restaurant. I want to introduce people to Catalan food and desserts.”
“That sounds amazing,” Meghan told her. “What’s Catalan food like?”
Laia’s eyes grew dreamy. “It’s so fresh,” she said. “With subtle, but powerful flavors of the Mediterranean. Guests will begin with traditional Pà amb tomàquet—that means bread with tomato and olive oil. It’s a staple. Then, they can enjoy Butifarra amb mongetes, or Esqueixada de bacallà.”
Meghan smiled. “I don’t even know what those are, but they sound good.”
“Catalan food is the greatest,” Laia declared. “You’ll have to dine at my restaurant someday, Meghan. I’m going to spare no expense for my patrons; they’ll feel as though they are dining in the finest restaurants of Girona, or Andorra de la Valle.”
“I can’t wait to try it for myself,” Meghan promised her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the impatient look on Celia’s face. “Laia, it was so nice talking to you.”
“You as well,” the popstar said, putting down her weights and putting her baseball cap over her hair. “I need to sneak out of here and get some breakfast. Bye, Meghan. Bye, Celia.”
They watched as Laia walked out of the gym. Celia shook her head. “I love her music, but I disagree with her philosophy,” she told Meghan. “Being fit and thin is the most important thing in life. She should be grateful she’s in such good shape.”
<
br /> Meghan’s eyes cast downward, feeling Celia’s words sting. “I didn’t mean that as an insult to you,” Celia insisted, seeing the look on Meghan’s face.
“Let’s just get started,” Meghan grunted.
They began the workout; Celia shouted instructions at Meghan, and Meghan followed along with various circuits. During the third set, Celia missed her cue, and Meghan was left jogging in place. “Celia? Celia?”
Celia snapped back to attention. “Yeah?”
“The instructions?”
A blank look crossed her face, followed by embarrassment. “So sorry. I’m all sorts of distracted this morning.”
