Triton (4 page)

Brynn’s expression of fear during the vanishing act, she told him later, had been part of the act. Apparently Zé Carlos had whispered the instructions as he boosted her onto the table.

As for the trick itself . . . Cedar studied the complicated diagrams the performer had sketched with wrinkled eyebrows. Why, it was nothing more than an adaptation of Pepper’s ghost, an illusion involving mirrors, a bright source of light, and a transparent screen.

He scoffed. Nothing special at all—

“So, did you find your sister?”

Cedar glanced up at a girl who had slid into the barstool next to him. About his age, thick caramel colored hair, rosy cheeks and full lips . . . plenty alluring. He recognized her from the Sand Bar: the girl downing piña coladas. Right, he had been looking for Brynn yesterday, too.

He nodded to the foosball table across the room, to Brynn. “That’s her.”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “Still babysitting?”

“She’s younger than she looks, okay?” He made no effort to hide the edge to his voice. “She’s only fifteen, and she’s not that smart. It’s like I blink, and she’s gone.”

“Probably just needs her space. You seem like a . . .
protective
older brother.”

Cedar nodded, conceding the point. “True.”

“I’m Naomi, by the way.”

“Cedar.” He didn’t hold out his hand.

Naomi ordered a virgin piña colada from the bartender. “So,” she started again, “how are you enjoying the cruise?”

“I’m not.”

“Neither am I.”

He peered sideways at her. “No?”

“It’s the third cruise my mom’s taken me on this summer. I’ve seen her maybe ten minutes total—she’s an assistant maître d’ on the ship.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“It’s not. She’s just a head waiter.”

“Hey, where do you guys sleep? I’ve always wondered.”

“Underwater.”

“Oh. Damn.”

“Like not
actually
underwater,” she said, “but below decks, you know, below the surface.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

She smiled, an impish little glint in her eyes. “Actually, I have access to crew-only areas. I could show you if you want?”

Her studied her for a moment, tempted by her offer. He was practically suffocating in this stupid teen zone, after all—his gaze jerked back to Brynn.

“Oh, come on. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s never fine.”

“You should trust her.”

“
Her?
How about the twenty-five hundred douchebags on this boat who would give their left nut to get into her pants.”

Naomi’s gaze wandered dubiously over Brynn’s tomboyish ponytail, her baggy T-shirt, and the ill-fitting board shorts that fell to her calves. “She’s not
that
great a catch.”

Cedar blew air through his lips. “That’s what I keep telling her.”

“Come on—”Naomi tugged on his T-shirt. “Are you seriously going to babysit her twenty-four hours a day for seven days straight? She’ll be fine.”

Naomi did have a point.

Cedar watched his sister, still completely absorbed in a foosball game with a much younger girl. Without makeup, without her blonde hair flying all over the place, dressed in
his
board shorts—which he’d insisted she wear after the magician fiasco—Brynn might just go unnoticed. Come to think of it, she’d been on especially good behavior the last few minutes.

In fact, earlier when he’d scrounged up her outfit, she hadn’t even argued. She hadn’t even
tried
to put on anything skimpy. She hadn’t combed her hair, doused herself in fake perfume, or done anything to make herself into a sexual object. Maybe she’d finally learned her lesson.

The Brynn playing foosball reminded him of her much younger self, her nine-year-old tomboy self, back when she was innocent and adorable.

He breathed a contented sigh. Brynn wasn’t planning to sneak off the moment he left, she was just trying to enjoy the cruise like a normal kid.

Tonight, he could trust her.

“Hang on.” Cedar crossed the room to the foosball table. “Brynn, as soon as you’re done with this game, go straight back to the cabin, got it?”

She yawned. “Good idea, I’m getting pretty tired. I’ll call it a night after this game.”

“
Straight
down to the room, Brynn.”

“Okay.”

“No detours, no games, no sneaking off. Straight down to the room.”

“Okay.”

“We’re in room six sixty, deck fourteen. That’s one level down. One flight of stairs—”

“I
know
, Cedar,” she snapped.

Satisfied that she had at last gotten the point, Cedar followed Naomi out onto the deck. He threw one last glance at Brynn and saw her yawn again and lean back over her game. Outside, a cool night breeze sliced through his shirt. Ah, it felt good to be outside.

Yet something about Brynn’s response nagged him. She had agreed
too
easily.

The moment he
was through the door with that girl, Brynn stood up straight, alert and ready, and glanced around the Living Room. Free. She was actually
free.

“Thank you,” she whispered, watching the girl Cedar had left with. Not that she had any chance with him, but God knew he needed a distraction.

“Got ya!” said the little girl she was playing foosball with, whacking the ball into Brynn’s goal. “Hey, are you still playing?”

“Here’s my advice,” said Brynn, kneeling down next to the little blonde—a miniature version of herself. “Tonight, find yourself a cute guy and have some fun. You only live once, right?”

“Are you leaving?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, young lady. I’ve seen you, you’ve been eyeing those boys over there all night, you little tiger . . .” she trailed off. “How old are you?

“Seven.”

“Well . . . never too young to start.”

The little girl frowned. “Boys are icky.”

Brynn gave a sly smile. “You have no idea.” She winked, trailed her fingers across the girl’s cheek, and started toward the exit opposite the one Cedar had taken.

She went straight down to their stateroom to change, a thrill fluttering up her spine at disobeying her brother’s orders. Instead of going to bed, she dolled herself up for a night out on the ship.

Her dad, she noticed, wasn’t in the room. Could he actually be enjoying himself like Cedar? Was it too much to ask that the two overprotective men in her life—her dad and brother—had
both
forgotten about her for the night?

Practically giddy, she dragged on a short jean skirt they had no clue she owned—and wouldn’t let her own in a gazillion years—a loose fitting tank top, and platform sandals. Next she applied pink lip gloss and dark eyeliner, doused herself in Dolce & Gabbana perfume, and dashed out the door again, her confidence soaring.

Thank you, thank you girl-who-has-a-crush-on-Cedar
. Whoever she was, Brynn owed her one for sure.

Her first stop was Fuel, the teen disco on deck fifteen astern. Cedar, of course, had forbidden her from setting foot in the place, but tonight she made her own rules.

Beams of neon light darted around the dark club, flashing over teens on the dance floor leaping up and down. She made out a few groups of friends dancing in circles.

She stepped onto the dance floor and started jumping up and down too in time with the beat. One of the circles opened up to include her, which she joined. Aside from the slitted eyes from the girl across from her, the rest of the group—mostly boys—welcomed her with smiles and head nods.

The guy dancing next to her was really cute, baby-faced and curly haired . . . like
adorably
cute. He grinned at her and angled his body slightly toward hers—in other words, a noncommittal signal that he might think she was cool that could be easily denied later if she didn’t return it. Excited, she grinned back, and angled her own body a few degrees toward him.

He swiveled a smidgeon more so he was facing her instead of the rest of the group, and they broke off from the circle to dance facing only each other.

But aside from furtive glances at each other and shy smiles, the boy stayed two feet away—no more, no less—as if held there by a force field. Cedar would be proud.

What was this . . .
middle school?

That was the problem with boys her age. They were all too afraid to touch girls. She scanned the rest of the dance floor, not a soul touching. Zero skin contact. Pathetic.

But she also felt a strange sting in her heart, like she didn’t belong here anymore. Dancing in this room with strangers, she was more alone than ever.

Simon had been her whole world. She remembered when they had experimented with third base, it was the most natural and exciting thing in the world. Only afterwards had she realized most girls her age hadn’t even been asked out on a date yet, let alone been through a serious long term relationship. After Simon, her never-been-kissed best friends were jealous and treated her like an outcast. They wanted what she had, not realizing how much it hurt. How much it isolated her.

Brynn faced her guy again. “Want to dance?” she yelled over the music.

“What?” he yelled back.

“Want to dance? Like
actually
dance?”

He stared at her, for a moment confused before his eyes flashed with understanding. He nodded to the corners of the teen disco, where a handful of adults stood with crossed arms, watching the dance floor like hawks. Chaperones.
Yuck!

And then she spotted something else . . . he was leaning at the bar: the hot guy she had seen by the pool whom Cedar had cockblocked. Jake, if she remembered correctly. Even in the dark club, he still wore his aviator sunglasses.

He was chatting with a couple of older girls and looked bored.

Brynn’s ideas of finding a perfect stranger flew out the window. She kind of just wanted him right now.

“Got to go,” she muttered to the boy she was dancing with and pushed through a gap in the crowd.

“Wait, I don’t even know your name?” the boy shouted behind her.

Brynn ignored him, hastily tugged down her skirt—which had been riding up ever since she started dancing—and trotted over to the bar. She slid onto a stool at the opposite end as Jake, feeling a bit alarmed when her butt came into direct contact with the cool, molded plastic. A quick glance over her shoulder reassured her she was still covered.

She glanced over at Jake. Though his head faced her direction, his shades blocked his eyes and she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her. She turned away, hot in the face.

Was
he looking at her?

She peeked again, without moving her head, and out of the corners of her eyes saw the two girls leave. One of them pressed a folded note into Jake’s hand—a phone number, probably. He displayed no reaction, not even a thank you, just took the note stone-faced and pocketed it. His head didn’t move.

The girls gone, Brynn was even more self-conscious that he might be looking at her, and her cheeks flushed. Screw it. She sighed loudly and blatantly turned her head to stare at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “Where’s your brother?” he said.

Oh, so he
had
noticed her. “You shouldn’t be scared of him,” she said. “You could beat him up.”

“I don’t want to have to beat him up,” he said.

“He left with another girl,” said Brynn.

Jake’s eyebrow nudged higher. “You’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“He gets to go off with some girl, but you don’t even get to sit next to me at the pool. Hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?

“That’s him.”

“Brynn, right?”

She nodded. “Jake?”

He rose from his chair, downed the dregs of an orange-colored drink, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” she said, not meaning to sound so accusing.

“Going to take a soak. You’re welcome to come.”

“A soak?”

“Hot tub. They won’t be too crowded this late.” He waited for her answer, face stoic like he couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not she joined him. Just her crap luck . . . he was one of those guys.

But then a thrill fluttered across her skin. Jake was one of
those
guys. Older, sexy, self-assured . . . and in a few minutes, they could be giving each other half-naked massages in a private hot tub. Would Cedar approve?

He’d have a heart attack.

“Let me just change into my bathing suit,” said Brynn, climbing to her feet and smoothing down her skirt again, blushing hotly at what she was about to do.

Midnight

Naomi led Cedar
, her unusual boy-find, through the hanging plastic flaps and into the crew-only area on deck two. Beyond the flaps, the floors were scuffed, the bulkheads made of unornamented white steel, and the overhead hidden above a maze of metal pipes and ventilation ducts.

“I should just check,” said Cedar.

“Give her space,” said Naomi. “She’ll love you for it.”

“I want her to be safe, I don’t care if she loves me.”

“Yes, you do care.”

A waiter hauled a pallet of food past them, forcing them flat against the bulkhead. The cart banged over a foot-wide metal gap in the floor. She noticed Cedar studying the break in the passageway.

“Watertight door,” she explained. “They close if there’s a hull breach, sectioning the bottom decks into individual watertight compartments.”

Cedar sneered. “No, Naomi, that’s what they did on the
Titanic
. I’m
sure
they have a better system by now.”

She sighed, already regretting inviting him along. Sure, he was cute, but his bad attitude was really starting to piss her off.

“Anyway, we’re here.” She veered off the I-95 down a smaller hallway and into a dark room. She flipped a switch, igniting an array of overhead fluorescent tubes.

The light revealed a ceiling mounted crane, a large rectangular door that opened through the ship’s hull, and in the room’s center, all gleaming yellow metal and plexiglass—a minisub.

“Whoa . . .” Cedar’s eyes widened, and for the first time that night, he didn’t sound preoccupied.