Going Nowhere (A Romantic Comedy Novella) (4 page)

“True. And no windows means no early morning sunlight. Perfect for sleeping in.”

April lifted her suitcase onto her bed. She unzipped and pulled out a twelve pack of Diet Coke. “Want a drink?”

“Sounds great. Thanks.”

She grabbed two glasses from a corner shelf above the vanity. The room steward had already filled our ice bucket, so she got ice for the glasses from there, then filled each with half a can of soda. Then she went back to her suitcase and pulled out a large bottle of Pantene Pro-V. April popped the top of the shampoo and squirted an ounce in each glass.

“Really, April?”

“What?”

I accepted the drink from her and took a sip. Even though I hadn’t been aware of her plan, I knew without asking her that she wasn’t trying to poison us with shampoo. “You filled that whole thing up with vodka?”

She nodded. “And this is the family-sized shampoo. Free drinks all week.”

I shrugged. It would save us a lot of money on alcohol. I couldn’t fault her for that. “Hopefully we don’t get caught.”

“What are they going to do? Throw us overboard?” April laughed a bit nervously.

“I read they have a jail on the bottom deck of the ship. I mean, it makes sense, right? In case someone goes crazy or something.”

She squirted more shampoo-vodka into her glass. “That’s true. And actually, I heard that the captain has the authority to throw someone overboard if necessary.”

“That’s great. Should I be wearing an inflatable life vest at all times?”

April grinned. “Just keep the bad jokes to a minimum and you should be okay.”

“I can’t make any promises.” I quickly emptied my glass. I wasn’t really in the mood for the drink, but I did appreciate the liquid courage. “Do you think they’re on the ship already?”

“Sam said he was going to hit the sundeck the minute he got on the ship. He wants a tan by day two.”

“So let’s put on our bathing suits and go.” I wasn’t usually so keen to put on my bathing suit, but it was go time. I had gone on this cruise for a reason, and that reason wasn’t sitting around getting drunk in my cabin.

April looked skeptical. “I really wanted to ease my way into this vacation. How about regular clothing? We can just take a look.”

“When I find him, I need an excuse to stay near him. So if I pretend I want to work on my tan, too...”

“Fine, but count me out.”

I sighed. Oh well, I had tried. It was nice enough of her to go on the cruise with me; she didn’t have to go along with every little plan I came up with, as well. While April turned on the TV and started flipping channels, I heaved my suitcase onto my bed. I struggled to unzip my case, having compressed seven days of clothing into a three-day carry-on. My clothing sprung up and I sifted through the tangled mess for my bathing suit. It was a bikini, but definitely on the conservative side. It had a short lace skirt and a tummy-trimming panel in the bottom. I grabbed it and walked a few short steps to the bathroom.

The door to the bathroom was narrow and opened out. The handle was recessed and metal, like on an airplane. Unfortunately, a cruise ship bathroom wasn’t much larger. I squeezed inside sideways and changed in front of the small sink. I hit my elbows a couple of times on the glass shower enclosure, but I managed, and was soon standing under the harsh lighting in my black bikini. Gah, I should have planned to tan right away. Maybe Sam was doing me a favor.

I stumbled back into the room, tripping over the lip between the bathroom and the cabin.

April looked up from the bed, remote in hand. “You sure about this?”

I nearly groaned. “This whole thing was partially your idea!”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She perked up. “Good luck! You’ll be great.”

Shaking my head, I yanked my cute straw tote with the pink gingham lining out of my suitcase and quickly threw in lip-gloss, suntan lotion, and my ship card.

Before I changed my mind, I left my cabin and headed directly for the sundeck.

When I got there, the party was already in full swing. I looked for Sam, but when I didn’t find him immediately, I lost a little of my courage. Even though it was still early, the deck was swarming with people. I navigated the crowd to find an empty lounge chair. As soon as I found one, I settled in and let the shampoo vodka kick in a little more.

Lying back, I watched everyone else have more fun than me. The band had switched to a Huey Lewis favorite and more people joined in the festivities. I tapped my foot and watched from a distance, scanning the crowd for Sam.

Soon my head started feeling heavy and my eyes seemed to shift a lot more slowly than normal. It became harder to pick out individual people from the dancing mass. Which made me wonder why I’d previously felt too shy to join in. It wasn’t as though anyone were paying attention to anyone else.

Then the band started up Robert Palmer’s
Some Like it Hot
and I jumped to my feet.

I started dancing on the edge of the group and was soon enveloped into the pulsing, sweaty middle. I sang to myself as I danced, waving my arms around in a way I usually reserved for my weekly aerobics class. I smiled widely at my fellow revelers, wondering if they could possibly be having as much fun as I was. I was a great dancer when I had a little liquor in me. Or I thought I was.

I wobbled on my heeled sandals‌—‌I knew I should have worn flats‌—‌and a strong hand gripped my elbow. I turned around to mouth, “Thank you.”

The man attached to the hand smiled down at me, bright white teeth flashing in glorious contrast to his ebony skin. “You’re welcome,” he said.

My heart beat a little faster at his Bahamian accent. It was warm and inviting, seductive and promising. I continued to dance, but now I was looking only at him. My gaze took in every inch of him and I suffered not a moment’s disappointment.

The tropical shirt he wore was buttoned only halfway up his hard, rippled chest. Off-white shorts clung loosely to slim hips and suggested unmentionable things to my young, impressionable mind. He had the perfect swimmer’s body: lean and muscular.

“My name is Rico,” he said over the music.

“Hi,” I replied, breathily. “I’m Kate.”

“I think you are the most beautiful woman on this ship, Kate.”

My slight intoxication added credence to his words. I did look pretty good, I thought. And standing next to him, I looked even better. He might not have been the handsomest man on the ship, but since I couldn’t look away from him, I had no way to compare. I smiled, the beat of the music rebounding in my head. “Thank you!”

We danced together, our rhythm perfect, never stepping on one another’s toes. I didn’t even have to think about my moves or the music. I was just there, floating in a world of illicit alcohol-induced acceptance.

Then I stumbled a little toward him and neatly fell into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he generously replied while I righted myself.

When I fell for a second time, I frowned and tried to find a way out of the heaving mass of dancers. Their rapid movements had started to make me dizzy, and suddenly all I wanted was to lie down. “I have to go,” I said above the din.

Rico nodded. “See you later.”

A little disappointed that he wasn’t even going to walk me to my chair, I pouted as I walked. No, I hadn’t counted on my handsome dance partner to be the man of my dreams, but a little help would have been nice. Hell, if he held my hair while I puked, it’d practically be a marriage proposal.

I squeezed my way through the crowd and found a lounge chair as far away from the music as possible. I shielded my eyes from the sun and laid back. Not surprisingly, my hands didn’t offer much protection from the twenty-seven million degree sun.

Groaning, I retrieved my suntan lotion from my bag and rubbed it into my back as best I could. I made a pillow out of a towel someone had left and turned onto my stomach. I unhooked my bikini top. I didn’t care how drunk I was; there was no way I could respect myself the next day with a lily white stripe running straight across my back.

I lay stiff as a board, knowing that if I moved again I would suffer another onslaught of nausea. At least I could show up at work next week with a tan that would make Snooki jealous. So, even when I heard footsteps approach, I didn’t budge.

“Hello again,” I heard Rico say, his voice like a tropical caress. “Would you like me to put some lotion on your back?”

“Mmm... okay.” Now things were looking up.

Rico hummed to himself as he sat on the edge of the recliner. Then he applied the lotion to my back, slowly massaging it in. After a minute or so, the job could have been over. Instead, he continued to knead and rub. I exhaled, eyes closed, and swam in the tranquility his ministrations created.

His hands were like magic. I’d never thought I’d use that comparison in my life, even though I’d had wonderful spa massages and even more wonderful full-body caresses from various boyfriends. It wasn’t as though I were just grateful or desperately starved for any man’s touch; Rico truly knew how to make every muscle in my back release like one of those compacted towels you buy in tourist shops.

“That feels good,” I finally managed to say. I could hear the rasp in my voice, the subconscious suggestion of what I was thinking.

“Not as good as you look,” Rico replied in his singsong voice.

My toes curled with uninhibited delight. This was so unlike me. I didn’t let myself be massaged by absolute strangers. I didn’t think shameful thoughts about them transferring their generosity to other, more eager parts of my body.
Your stateroom or mine?
was racing through my mind.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner tonight?” Rico suddenly asked, hands still moving up and down in a soothing motion.

Dinner? Tonight? I thought about it. I really hadn’t come on this cruise to get entangled with more men. Sam was already more than I could handle. I sighed. “I can’t go to dinner with you, Rico. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” He sounded sad... confused. “You’re not going to eat alone, are you? I’ll show you a good time, Missy. I promise.” As he said these last words, he moved his hands lower than they had been previously, massaging parts of me that were sensitive and more accustomed to the feel of panty waistbands than thick, male fingers. He rubbed the two black beads that were tied to my bikini against my hip, using them like hot massage stones.

At his adept touch, my entire lower body responded with obvious and forceful agreement. Drowning in pleasure, I struggled to reach the surface so that I might be able to think clearly. As I started to turn onto my back, I said, “All right, dinner it is.”

Rico, my handsome Bahamian, was nowhere to be found. Instead, Max Walker was sitting on the edge of my deck chair, a bottle of suntan lotion clutched in his left hand, looking quite pleased with himself. It had been him giving me the massage, not Rico. “Should I start on the front?”

M
Y HANDS FLEW
up to my chest. I suddenly felt exposed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Covering your lovely back with suscreen.”

“You ass,” I said, struggling to sit up. My head was swimming. “You molested me under false pretenses.”

“Molested you? I certainly wouldn’t call it that, but when you do, it sounds pretty exciting.”

“Pig.” I backed away from him as much as I could, then used both hands to fix my bathing suit. “I can’t believe you!”

“If you recall what happened, I never actually claimed to be anyone. It’s not my fault you’re so indiscriminate.” Max rubbed his hands together to absorb the excess lotion that had fallen into the cracks between his fingers.

“Whose fault is it that you’re a pervert?” I stared down at the hot wooden deck for a moment then met his blue-eyed gaze with new resolve. “Where’s Sam? You two split up already?”

“We aren’t a gay couple. We weren’t planning on spending every moment attached at the hip.” He raised one dark eyebrow. “Why do you care about Sam?”

“I don’t.” I swung my feet off the recliner and self-consciously checked for any wrinkles on my stomach.

Max moved closer to me, his ridiculously bright yellow and black shorts hurting my eyes. “So... did my accent turn you on?”

Something about him had certainly had turned me on, but it was a lot more than his voice. “You sounded ridiculous.”

“You loved it. You thought I was your Bahamian boy toy, come back for a little more recreational activity.”

“It was just suntan lotion.”

“Really? What about dinner?”

I swung my straw bucket tote at his bulging bicep, which was encased in a bright yellow t-shirt. His muscular physique was yet another surprise, one I hadn’t known existed under his Hugo Boss suits. “You pushed me into it. I told him... you... no.”

“In the end you said yes.” He capped the bottle of lotion. “So are we still on for dinner?”

“No!”

“Well, why not? Same argument applies. You have to eat, so why do it alone?”

I shook my head. “Same argument may apply, but the answer will still be different.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

“Because I said so!” I watched the other cruisers drink and dance happily with other passengers. They didn’t have to worry about trying to suck up to one man who could make or break their career while avoiding another who could destroy the whole thing before it even got off the ground. “Listen, I didn’t come on this cruise to socialize with you.”