Page 22 of Revenge Honeymoon

“This game is for passengers only.” Sylvia crossed her arms. “You aren’t a passenger.”

“Yes, I am.” Max punched the air with his mini pencil.

“No, you are not.” Sylvia gestured at the crowd of guests. “Look around. Everyone else has a partner. A wife. A husband. You don’t have anyone. This game is for couples. You need to leave.”

“I’m a passenger. It says so in my contract.” Max raised his voice above the clanging and sirens as a slot machine paid out its winnings. “I exchanged my services on this cruise for a free trip, I’m staying in a passenger’s cabin, and I eat in the dining room with the rest of the guests.”

“He has a point,” Emily said.

Sylvia tapped her foot. “This is a game for couples. You can’t play.”

Max stood solid as a tree trunk. His eyes shifted back and forth. He opened his mouth. No sound came out. What kind of defense could he throw out? Where else could he take this?

“Fine.” He held up his hands. “Fine. I don’t want to play your trivia game anyway.” He squinted at the prize wheel. “I mean, who wants to win a turn at the zip line?”

“I do,” Ruby said.

Emily shushed her.

“Thank you, Maxwell.” Sylvia snapped her mic on. “Has everyone found their new tables?”

“It’s Max,” Emily shouted. “His name is Max.”

A middle-aged woman and her middle-aged husband gave Emily a weird look from their twin slot machines.

“Chop chop!” Sylvia clapped her hands. “Let’s go, people! I’ve got a lot of fun questions for you lovebirds.”

Ruby and Emily exchanged glances.

“Do you think we can do this?” Ruby stared at her little blue paper. “I mean, we’re not, you know, married.” She whispered the last word.

Emily imagined what some of the questions might include. Could be tricky, but they were best friends after all. They knew a lot about each other. A lot.

“Let’s give it a try. Why not?” Emily stood and waved her pink paper in the air. “What do we have to lose?”

Max leaned toward them. “If you win a spin on the prize wheel, and you don’t like the prize, can I have it?”

“We’ll consider it,” Emily answered before scouting out for the correct tables based on her pink paper: one, two, three, or four.

“No, we won’t,” Ruby countered. “We’re the couple, and we get the prize.”

Max read prizes off the wheel. “What if it’s the Captain’s Tour of the ship’s bowels?”

“It doesn’t say ‘bowels,’ does it?” Ruby squinted at the wheel.

Emily pulled on her friend’s arm. “Come on. They might not let us play if we aren’t at the correct table in time.”

“You won’t give Max our prize if we win, will you?” Ruby found table number six and sat with two men who seemed more interested in their oversized cocktail drinks, rather than the stunning tablemate who’d joined them.

“I really am not interested in ship bowels, are you?” Emily found table number four and grabbed the last open seat, sitting next to a man in his sixties and two younger brunette women who seemed to know each other.

“If it’s something other than bowels, Em, I think we need to discuss it.”

The two husbands at Ruby’s table eyed her with curiosity and maybe a bit of disgust. A woman saying the word ‘bowels’ was apparently a massive turn-off.

Sylvia interrupted the prize debate, “Wonderful, it seems as if everyone has found a seat. Are you ready for some fun questions?” She snatched a paper from the bar and shook it. When she smiled, her high cheekbones created divots in her face. “I want everyone to number their paper from one to fifteen.” She leaned in closer to her mic and repeated more slowly. “One. To. Fifteen.”

Emily wondered who couldn’t understand her the first time. Maybe some of the older brides and grooms. She glanced at a yellow paper table. An elderly woman with a walker standing next to her waved at someone across the room. At a green paper table, an equally aged man with oxygen cannulas in his nose waved back.

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