Page 42 of Revenge Honeymoon

“Guests aren’t allowed in the crew area.” Debbie blocked the way with her body. “Is there someone in particular you wished to speak with?” The happy light in her eyes had extinguished.

“I’m not exactly a guest.” Sylvia would probably agree. “I’m the photographer. Didn’t you help with the photo shoot last night?” Maybe she didn’t remember him because he was wearing a pair of swim trunks and a Hawaiian shirt rather than his professional work wear. “I’m Max.” He flashed his best smile. Women usually remembered the smile.

Her nose wrinkled, and a flush crept across her pale cheeks. “Oh, Max. I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

“That’s okay. I’m looking for Sylvia. She wanted to meet in the crew lounge.”

She looked away and fiddled with a thin gold necklace around her neck. “Sylvia?” She swallowed. “Um, yeah, I did see her in there a few minutes ago.” She pointed aft. “Down there, on the left, the sign’s on the door.”

Max sneaked a peek down the hall. “Great. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Debbie stepped aside and let him pass. “You’re lucky she’s in a good mood.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up.

* * *

The crew lounge was narrow, but brightly lit by overhead can lights and several portholes that were a deck above sea level. Couches lined one wall with bright blue chairs facing them and small round tables between. A large flat screen TV with a soccer match playing hung on the wall. A few crew members enjoyed a game of foosball, while other crew sat at a small bar near the back of the lounge.

When Max entered, a pair of Hispanic women who sat near the door eyed him with interest.

“Max, back here,” Sylvia called out from a table near the bar. While taking a drink from a bottle of hard lemonade, she waved a hand beckoning him.

Not a bad space for the crew to relax when off-duty, and it was nice to escape from the lovey-dovey honeymoon couples up top, which only reminded him of his break-up with Penny and how lonely his apartment would be once he returned home. She’d been a handful and a bit of a snob, but at the beginning it had been really good. The thought of starting all over with someone new—the small talk, the awkwardness—tired him.

Sylvia patted the empty space on the couch next to her. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got. I’ve been trying to convince the Captain we need to modernize our ads. This could mean a big promotion for me if we play our cards right.”

We?

A promotion for her on the back of his photography? Hm. That didn’t sound promising. “I’d receive credit for my work, right?” Maybe he should’ve scrutinized his contract with the cruise line a little bit better. If only he hadn’t needed the cash so badly. Did he miss something?

“Slow down, cowboy.” She laughed and touched his arm.

Cowboy?

Max looked down at his attire.

“Let’s look at what you have first.” The cruise director stroked her long, elegant neck with a well-manicured hand.

He grimaced, but hid his expression while removing his laptop from its bag. “I picked out the best of the bunch. I think you’ll find something in here that you like.”

He fired it up and then navigated to the folder labeled: ‘Pool Photos.’

Sylvia grabbed the laptop before he could even click on a single one. “I know what I’m looking for. It’ll go a lot faster if I go through them myself.”

Max held his hands up.

Wow. Aggressive.

She reminded him a bit of Penelope when they’d first met. A force. He’d noticed her in downtown Miami. She dressed like a fashion model, but had an interesting face. Unusual some would say. A slightly crooked, too-big nose, a mouth that was a few centimeters too wide, and a very high forehead. She wore her hair swept back and in a complicated twist. But to his creative brain, he saw natural beauty that would jump out in photo.

He'd asked if he could photograph her.

After that first photo shoot, she’d leapt into his life with all guns blazing. First, she helped him dress better. Then she introduced him to her stylist at the most fashionable salon in the city, and they transformed his shaggy, too-long hair into something more refined and more flattering to his face.

And he’d welcomed it. What did he care about clothes or hair? He merely wanted to photograph his new muse as much as possible. Beach shots, night shots, silhouettes. Oh, those silhouettes. Her profile, with her large nose, created a superb effect. That had been his first professional piece to win accolades and even an award in a small, but prestigious, local contest.

Penelope pushed him to believe in his work and to experiment with his photography. At first, the successes came easily. He sold photo after photo without much effort. But that last show? The failure? He hadn’t been anticipating that one. And it hurt.

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