All the Pretty Poses (8 page)

“It is.”

“So this is what your life is like? I had no
idea.”

“This is just one of my businesses. This
isn’t where I live my life. It’s simply what I do.”

Kennedy’s eyes stare into mine. “In your
case, I think it’s pretty much the same thing, don’t you?”

She seems unhappy as she walks away. I don’t
quite know what to make of her commentary, so I let it go. No sense
in wasting time on things I can’t figure out or control. Especially
not when I need to put my energy toward the things that I
can.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- Kennedy

A pleasant yet quiet man named Karesh gives
us a tour of the yacht.

“This is Domani, the second of Mr. Spencer’s
three entertainment yachts.”

“What does that mean, ‘Domani’?” Sloane asks,
reading my mind.

“It means, ‘tomorrow’,” Karesh explains. “His
first is called ‘Ieri’ which means yesterday, and his newest is
called ‘Sempre’,” he finishes.

“Forever,” I whisper. I remember hearing the
Italian word somewhere, maybe from Malcolm. I think I remember him
saying his mother was born in Sicily, which would account for the
dark good looks of all the Spencer men.

We follow Karesh from one stunning space on
the yacht to another, all set against the backdrop of an endless
horizon and water as far as the eye can see. We’ve already left the
harbor and I had no idea we were even moving.

It’s more opulent than anything I’ve ever
seen. The accommodations include everything from a library and show
room, to a small swimming pool and gym. Although more compact, this
craft lacks nothing that any resort on land boasts. At least not
that I can see.

I wonder how I ever, in my young mind,
thought that Reese and I could have a future of any kind. We might
as well be from different planets. I mean, I knew it at the time. I
knew he was the quintessential rich kid and I was the classic poor
girl, but this…this is just staggering. We weren’t worlds apart; we
were galaxies apart. I was a fool to ever get involved with someone
like Reese. But the only thing I can do about it now is vow never
to make the same mistake again.

And I don’t plan to.

Ever.

When we go below decks to the staterooms,
Karesh begins assigning rooms. I get a glimpse inside each one we
pass. They’re all outfitted with queen sized beds, rich cream
duvets and carpeting that appears to be six inches thick. They’re
nicer than my bedroom at home, which I was quite proud of until
today.

Soon, everyone is getting settled in their
room and I am following Karesh by myself to another part of the
ship.

“These are the crew quarters,” he says. “And
since you’ll be
working
for Mr. Spencer during this voyage,
your accommodations will be located here.” We pass several narrow
doors, one of which is open and I can see inside. Two sets of bunk
beds dominate the room, one against the wall to the left, the other
against the wall to the right. I gulp. I’m a very private person
and it really didn’t occur to me to ask about living quarters. But,
it’s too late to ask now. We’ve already left Los Angeles
behind.

We pass an area he explains is the crew
lounge. It’s a large room with a kitchenette against the back wall
and a long table that separates it from the living area. The main
space holds three sofas, two chairs, and a big screen television
that’s mounted to the wall. Several people are gathered around two
men playing at a foosball table that’s pushed into a corner. None
of them bother to look up as we pass, for which I’m intensely
grateful. I need to get my bearings before meeting the others.

Karesh continues on to more rooms, finally
stopping beside the very last door. He opens it and sweeps his arm
forward, an indication that I should precede him. So I do.

This room is different than the others. It’s
lighter, this one having a small, high window on one wall, and it
has one full-sized bed rather than the bunk beds that line the
walls in the others. There is a small sink in one corner, as well
as a soft round chair that appears to be bolted to the floor. I
hold my breath, almost afraid to ask if this one will be mine.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Karesh
divulges.

“Really?” He nods his head and smiles.

“Really.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, running my
hand over the countertop that surrounds the sink. “Please don’t
take this as a complaint, but why do I get a room like this? What
about the other rooms?”

“Mr. Spencer asked that you be given this
room.”

“Did he say why?”

“I only do as I’m told, ma’am. I don’t ask
questions.”

I nod and smile. “I understand. Well, thank
you. This room is…is…it’s great.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he says pleasantly.
“Your bags will be here shortly. If there is anything else you
need, feel free to ask. Just dial 300 from any phone on the ship. I
can arrange to have any necessities obtained for you once we reach
Hawaii.”

“We’re going to Hawaii?”

“Yes, that’s our first stop, where we’ll drop
off Mr. Spencer’s brother and his companions and pick up our
clients.”

“Oh, I see. And then where will we be
going?”

“French Polynesia, ma’am,” he answers.

“Oh,” I reply vaguely but enthusiastically. I
have no idea what kinds of destinations lie in French Polynesia.
That’s what happens when you don’t finish high school. The GED
program skips a lot. “It sounds amazing.”

“Oh, it is,” he assures. “I’ll leave you to
freshen up. If your bags aren’t delivered in ten minutes—”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his
sentence before he’s interrupted by a young, fit, blond guy. “Sir,
I have them.”

“Perfect timing, Brian,” Karesh says,
stepping out of his way. “Brian, this is Kennedy. She’ll be in
entertainment. Serving as well if extra help is needed. Kennedy,
this is Brian. He’s the on-board trainer and the person who will be
keeping you conditioned during your stay.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Brian.”

“Likewise,” Brian says with a broad
smile.

Karesh nods to me. “I’ll see you in one hour
for dinner in the rotunda.”

“Thank you, Karesh,” I say before he walks
off. Smiling, I turn to Brian who’s holding my big suitcase. “I’ll
take that.”

As if it weighs nothing, Brian picks up the
case with one hand, keeping it out of my reach as he holds me off
with the other. “Nope. I’ve got it. I’ll be working those muscles
of yours soon enough.”

He gives me an engaging smile as he walks
past me to deposit my suitcase on the bed. He turns, dusting off
his hands, and winks at me. “Welcome aboard, Dorothy. You’re not in
Kansas anymore.”

I’m surprised when he kisses my cheek on his
way back out the door. I’m sure I’m wearing an expression that says
as much as he closes the door behind himself, leaving me standing
in the middle of my new room, pondering his strangely familiar
behavior.

In the quiet moments following his departure,
I realize three things about Brian. One, I don’t think he meant
anything derogatory by the Dorothy comment. Two, something in my
gut tells me he’s gay. And three, I like him already. That
seemingly-innocuous trio of tiny details puts me at ease and gives
me a better outlook on the coming summer than any I’ve had so
far.

Finding someone that I can be friends with
has never been easy for me. Trust issues aside, I’m reserved right
up to the moment I feel very comfortable in someone’s presence,
which makes it difficult for people to get to know and like me.
It’s something I learned long ago and have come to terms with. It’s
also something that has made me appreciate those who I
can
call “friend,” those who gave me a chance, who stuck it out until I
loosened up. They’ve turned out to be some of the best people I’ve
had the good fortune of filling my life with, and I treasure them.
It’s probably no coincidence that they’re all older people, like
Tanny, Malcolm and Clive. I get the feeling that I’ll soon be
adding the much-younger Brian to that list, though. And I’d like
nothing more than to be right. We’ll see how that goes. But for
now, he’s managed to make me feel welcome and at ease, and I
desperately needed that.

I go about getting settled in my room,
quickly discovering that there are all sorts of interesting uses of
space, like storage for instance. There are drawers tucked under
the bed and under the sink, which is a good thing. I didn’t bring
that much
stuff, but I wouldn’t have enough room to store it
all if I’d been given one of the group rooms, especially once I see
that the closet is full of clothes already.

I can only assume they are for me. Not only
are they brand new and all in my size, but they look like things
I’d wear to dance. My style exactly. Whoever Reese has working for
him is very good!

Among the costumes, though, are some
beautiful gowns and very nice formal wear. I don’t know what I’m
expected to wear the items for, but I suppose someone will tell me
when the time comes. For all I know, Reese may have his service
staff wear things like that. On a boat like this, nothing would
surprise me.

But for tonight, my first night on board with
no idea what to expect at dinner, I dress in something of my own—a
pair of soft moleskin pants in chocolate and a sleeveless blouse in
cream. It’s the kind of outfit that can be worn in a wide variety
of situations without making me stand out.

I brush out my hair until it hangs in shiny
waves around my shoulders and give my lips a fresh coat of gloss.
Other than that, I’m going as is. I have no one to impress.

After only five minutes of being cooped up in
my tiny room with a window that I can’t see out of unless I stand
on the bed, I’m already too fidgety to stay here until dinner time.
I decide to go up to one of the open-air decks to enjoy the view
instead.

I make three wrong turns getting from where
my room is in the forward-most part of the ship to where I thought
the steps were that lead to the upper decks. Luckily, one of my
wrong turns leads me to a set of steps that end up in the kitchen
where Brian just happens to be standing, talking to a man whom I
assume is the chef. His tall, puffy hat and long white apron are
dead giveaways.

Brian smiles as soon as I appear in the
doorway just beyond the long, stainless steel table at which they
stand. He’s going over a list of foods as the chef winds long, thin
strips of dough into spirals.

“Well, look at you,” he says pleasantly,
bestowing upon me another of his winning, yet markedly
un-sexually-interested smiles.

“I think I’m lost. I was actually going up to
one of the decks to take in some fresh air before dinner.”

“Good for you. Enjoy it while you can. Once
the clients are on board, you won’t be able to hang around up
there. You’ll be getting cozy with the rest of us in the
trenches.”

I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my
stomach just thinking about spending the next three months locked
away in a tiny, airless room in the bow of a ship. But I hide that
beneath the small, placid smile that I’ve learned to permanently
affix to my face.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Unless they’re off the ship in port.”

“Okay.”

“Or unless you’re requested by one of them.
They get whatever they want, of course, even if it’s the company of
a particular employee for the night.”

“For the night?” A tiny niggle of alarm
sweeps through me. Surely that doesn’t mean what it sounds like it
means.

“Well, for the evening. Anything beyond that
is a…personal decision, not a work requirement.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say a third time, slowly
exhaling my relief.

“But you made one too many lefts. You
should’ve taken a left-right-left coming out of your room, not a
left-left-left.”

“So I should go back down the stairs
and—”

“Girl, that’s too much trouble. Just go out
that door,” he says, pointing to a larger door across the room from
where we stand, “and you’re in the bar. There will be exits leading
to the deck on your left.”

I nod my thanks and make my way outside, even
more determined to enjoy the experience and the scenery since it
might be my only chance for a while. I’ve never been on a cruise,
or on a boat at all actually, so this is a first—but hopefully not
a last—for me.

I walk to the furthest point on the bow of
the ship and lean into the V of the railing. The wind is warm and
brisk, the sun shines on my face as it sets and all I can hear is
the spraying sound of the wake as the boat cuts through the water.
When I turn my head and look far to the left and scan the horizon
all the way around to my right, I’m floored by how small and
insignificant I feel. As far as I can see, there is nothing visible
but miles and miles of ocean. It’s both humbling and breathtaking.
And maybe a little bit intimidating.

I lean over the rail a bit to look down at
the front of the yacht where it stands still so far above the
surface of the water. That’s when I see them.

I gasp. Six dolphins jump and play in the
water just ahead of the ship, as if daring the boat to touch them,
but the boat dares not.

The orange light bounces off their pale gray
bodies, glistening brightly as they make their brave arc in front
of the yacht. With their mouths open as they squeak to one another,
it looks like they’re smiling at me as they breach the water for an
instant and then disappear two seconds later. I’m barely aware of
the delighted laugh that bubbles up in my chest and spills from my
lips.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” a deep, familiar
voice says at my ear. Immediately, I stiffen, the smile dying from
my lips and my heart doubling its beats per minute.

I turn my head to find Reese nearly pressed
to my back. In the dying sun, golden highlights shine in his hair
and his eyes sparkle like aquamarines of the highest quality. For a
moment, I’m tempted to count every inky lash that rims his exotic
eyes, but the flash of his brilliant smile takes my breath away and
reminds me that I’m playing with fire of the most dangerous kind. I
can’t lean away; there’s nowhere to go. My only option is to ignore
him and return my attention to the view I was enjoying.