Page 8 of Ship Happens
“Last I saw, he was heading toward the kitchen to talk to Maurice about tonight’s menu. Being the first night and all, you know how particular he is about the dinner.” He looks at hiswatch and whistles. “Speaking of, we’d best go to our rooms and get geared up.”
“Geared up?”
Ice downs the rest of the bottle. “Yeah, no formal attire tonight. Jim wants us dressed like spacemen.”
Before I can ask what he means, he turns, tosses his bottle into the trash, and heads for the stairs. I guess I’d better go to my room if I want answers to all of my questions.
Using the special elevator that only responds to purple and orange wristbands, I head toward the Sinners’ accommodations. I follow the numbered doors until I reach mine, then swipe my band. The lock clicks open, and I step inside.
Darkness shrouds the room. The curtains have been drawn tight, and all the lights are off. I don’t even have time to feel for the light switch as the door clicks shut behind me. Standing still, I allow my eyes to adjust to the shadows. Despite the heavy-duty blackout curtains, a bit of fading sunshine squeaks through the outer edges and provides a little light. It’s enough for me to make out the outline of the bed.
And the figure snoring on top of it.
With the thick blankets piled over the sleeping form, I can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man. The person makes use of the entire king bed, however, so I can already tell that our sleeping arrangement is less than ideal. Hopefully, Jim has a cot or something I can crash on to avoid the arms and legs currently stretched over every inch of mattress.
As I step closer, the loud snores reach a crescendo and stop abruptly, almost as if the individual choked on their tongue. Meanwhile, I’m amazed they can sleep through their own sounds.
“Is someone there?” a feminine voice asks.
I raise my hand in a wave she likely can’t see. “Sorry for the interruption. I’m your roommate. My name’s?—”
The light beside the bed clicks on, and a dark-haired woman squints up at me. Though she’s fully clothed, she pulls the blanket around her chest as if she’s naked.
“My name is Maverick. There’s no need to panic.” I hold out my hands and take a step back. She looks terrified.
Then she blinks, looks around, and seems to remember where she is. “Shit, am I late?”
“For dinner? No. We still have about thirty minutes. That’s why I came to the room. One of my friends said we have to dress like space people, and I wanted to see what that was about.”
She looks down at her bags and things strewn across the foot of the bed. “Jeez, where are my manners? Sorry about the mess.” After tossing the blanket aside, she begins pushing her things to the floor. Then she holds her hand toward me as she kneels at the foot of the bed. “I’m Frankie.”
I grip her hand in mine and give it a shake, taking note of the purple wristband on her slender arm. Questions fill my head. If she’s one of us, why does Jim want me to keep tabs? And what does he hope to discover?
And why is she so goddamn beautiful?
“Frankie, huh?”
“It’s short for Francesca. Despite being incredibly unfeminine, my mother chose the floweriest name she could think of.”
“So that she could call you Frankie,” I say with a shrug.
Her eyes light up. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never thought of that before.”
She lets out a laugh that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. She looks like she might be older than me, but not by much.
Despite her beauty, and despite the fact that we’ll be forced to sleep in the same room, I have no plans to fall into the same pits my friends have. Ezra and Bennett came out of these retreats in relationships, and I don’t have time for that.
Hell, the moment we get back on dry land after the cruise, we were all supposed to head to Texas in search of the missing Carter sister. Ezra found a woman fitting the description, and he wants to get some sneaky DNA before we confront her. Bennett can’t go because he promised Cat he’d help her get ready for college, and Ezra can’t go because he has to be Kindra’s arm candy for an upcoming press event.
That leaves me, the last man standing.
“Your friend wasn’t so off about the outfits for tonight, though,” she adds. “Take a look for yourself. Yours is still hanging up.”
I backtrack to the closet and pull the garment bag from inside. Sure enough, the outfit looks like something from a 1950s sci-fi nightmare. Frankie pulls hers out as well, and together, we stare at the abominations.
“Is this normal for one of these retreats? The weird suits, I mean.” Frankie looks up at me.
“No, we’re usually required to dress for dinner, especially the first and last nights, but never like this. I don’t know what Jim has up his sleeve.”
