“Well, your tan is incredible,” Daveigh replied. “I swear, you always look like you jumped out of a magazine.”
“Thanks!” Lucy beamed. “My bikini lines are almost non-existent now after I spent time on that nude beach I told you about.”
Daveigh explained, “Lucy has the best job in the world. She works on a cruise ship.”
“Nice. What cruise?” I asked.
“Oh, thanks! I got it at Macy’s.” She glanced down at her top and adjusted it to showcase more of her ample cleavage.
It was clear she didn’t have a clue what I’d said as the music pumped louder, deafening anyone within a five-foot radius. Again, I was left to let the unnatural look slide from my face with her response. The wooden planks beneath my feet vibrated with the level of bass the speakers produced. Lyrics weren’t even comprehensible anymore, and a massive dose of ibuprofen would be in my near future. I was getting too old for the bar scene.
“How do you two know each other?” I changed the subject, competing against the booming song lyrics.
“We went to high school together,” Daveigh said. “Well, she moved here during the second half of my senior year. Didn’t start really hanging out until a while after graduation…”
“So, what are you doing here then?” I stopped her from having to finish the sentence, and then I wondered if my bluntness had come across as rude. No one in their right mind would stick around Steele Falls if they had a job on a cruise ship lined up. Seeing the world or waiting around to rot and die? The choice seemed pretty obvious to me.
“I’ve got a cousin who lives across town. He rents me a room for a screaming deal. That way, I don’t have to buy an entire house or worry about an apartment. Seems pointless until I’m ready to settle down, which still sounds like the most horrible thing in the world. Monogamy. No, thank you.” She shuddered. “Plus, it saves me a shit ton of money for other stuff.”
“Like giant boobs,” Daveigh replied.
“They are fantastic, aren’t they?” Lucy grinned and puffed her chest out with a little shimmy.
“In all of their legiti-titty double-E splendor,” Daveigh said.
I was sure both of them needed to learn the true definition of “legiti-titty” because there was nothing natural about Lucy’s massive rack. She reminded me of a children’s doll, the kind where the waist was unreasonably disproportionate to the boobs. Lucy was top-heavy, and I wondered when she’d topple over.
“Wanna feel ‘em?” she asked me, jutting her chest out. “The swelling’s almost completely gone now.”
“I’ll pass,” I replied, jamming my hands into my pockets and out of sight.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “The doctor in Tijuana did an amazing job though. Dirt cheap too.”
Doctor. Plastic surgery. Suddenly, I was reminded of Cash and his extensive schedule for fixing botched titty tucks and overinflated trout pouts.
“How long are you in town for?” Daveigh shouted.
“About a week,” Lucy replied. “Then, it’s on to Mexico. We should totally do dinner before I take off.”
“Yes, please!” Daveigh replied. “I could use the escape.”
I looked over at Lucy. Most girls would be envious. She was like Goldilocks. The stereotypical “just right”, well, outside of her oversized headlights. Flawless creamy caramel-colored skin was a perfect contrast against her emerald green eyes. Her hair was worn down and hung to the middle of her back, a few loose locks draping over the front of her shoulder. Like a damn shampoo commercial, not a strand was out of place. It was a gorgeous sea of tightly-woven blonde and coffee-brown spirals.
I was caught off guard when a male voice sounded.
“Ladies, what’ll it be?” A waiter approached the table with a thick accent in tow, pad of paper in-hand, and a pen perched behind his ear. He appeared to be roughly my age, but I definitely didn’t remember ever seeing him around Steele Falls before. A metallic nametag read “Santi” on a gray button-up that was tucked into a tight pair of blue jeans. And I mean tight. You could see everything God gave that man. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, accentuating each individual muscle on his tanned forearms. I continued to take in his bold features. Strong jaw. Convex nose. Jet black hair was slicked across his scalp and barely greeted his shoulders. I wondered what part of Italy he’d moved from, and why on earth he’d ever want to come to Steele Falls. Deep dimples appeared when he smiled. Just like Lucy, I was certain he was the envy of many.
“Hello there, sailor. I didn’t know you were working tonight.” Lucy batted her eyes, adjusting the way she was seated so she could make a production out of crossing her legs. “It’s been a while.”
He smirked at her, the look saying more than words could convey. “Jackie just left. I’m only working for a few hours to cover for her, but with you here, I’m definitely standing at attention now.”
Oh, the innuendo.
“I’ll have a beer,” I replied, ignoring the obnoxious level of flirting that occurred next to me. “I don’t care what kind. Make it a surprise.”
“Another glass of rosé,” Lucy held up her near-empty glass, “and you if you’re available later tonight.”
“How about eleven o’clock?” Santi asked, his voice barely elevating above a throaty purr. “That’s when my shift ends. Maybe you could meet me up at the bar. You know, whet our whistles before we take off?”
“As if you even need to ask when it comes to your whistle,” Lucy replied with a devious grin.
She turned toward my sister as Santi walked around to the other side of the table to hear Daveigh’s order better. “He’s got the biggest…feet,” Lucy mouthed with a giggle. “Like gigandick.”
“I’m not sure what I want yet.” Daveigh fished her gold-toned cell out of her pocket, a series of lights blinking around the perimeter in a rainbow of colors. Even though her level of fashion had waned a few levels over the past two years, her phone was as attention-grabbing as ever. Studying the illuminated screen resulted in her shoulders slumping. “I’ll be right back. Gotta take this.”
My little sister stormed through the doors toward the parking lot, and I wondered what could’ve stolen her attention so quickly from a friend back in town and a sister who’d reappeared after two years. Then, I remembered I was alone with Lucy. Lucky me.
It was quiet in the bar between songs, leaving me to feel thirteen levels below uncomfortable.
“You lucked out. Karaoke ended a little while ago. It was especially abysmal tonight. The last act, the drunk chick wearing the corset in the corner,” she nodded across the room, “thought she was an opera singer. The next artist is amazing though. She’s the main reason why I come here on Saturday nights when I’m in town.” Lucy’s voice was loud as she competed with the group of people sitting next to us. “Well, that and for Santi. Sometimes, you get a craving for…bar food.” She winked at me and scoped him out across the room again.
The local radio station continued playing another round of 90’s rock, and I slumped back in my chair, trying to digest the day. My momentary reflection was short-lived when Lucy wanted to strike up conversation again.
“So,” Lucy uncrossed her legs and adjusted the scoop of her top to showcase even more of her cleavage when she saw Santi walking back with our drinks, “how are you doing with the news? You know, about your dad.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I merely shrugged my shoulders. My desire to discuss the topic hovered on empty. Plus, it felt uncomfortable to be chatting about family with a complete stranger. Who was I kidding? It felt weird to talk about family with family under the circumstances. The line between being polite and an asshole to Lucy was paper thin, so I did my best to not offend my sister’s friend.
“I know Daveigh’s been a hot mess,” she continued. “Her moods have been swinging from
one extreme to the next. It hit her pretty damn hard.”
“Well, I’ve never been an emotional or social butterfly.” I lifted my beer to my mouth and took a drink from the plastic cup. “I tend to hold it in and hide out in my cocoon.”
“As she’s mentioned on more than one occasion.”
I frowned. It bothered me not knowing what else Lucy might or might not have known about me. After all, we’d just met, and I didn’t know a damn thing about her outside of her flavor preference for whetting Santi’s whistle.
A few minutes later, Daveigh walked back up with a beer in her hand from the bar. “Sorry. It was an important call.” She glanced at her watch. “And now I’ve got to tinkle. I’ll be right back. Promise!” I watched my sister weave her way toward the bathroom and I was abruptly left with Lucy once more. Who knows? Maybe she’d end up being my new best friend. Nah. Hello, round three of difficult conversation.
“So, tell me about Steele Falls. What’s it like these days?” I asked.
“Ehh...I leave for a cruise one week and come back five or ten days later. Not much ever changes during the time I’m gone. You know how things go around here; you’ve lived it.”
I decided to curve the topic away from family and town as a list of subjects flitted through my head. “So, what’s your position on the ship? Like an activities director?”
She snorted, nearly spilling her glass of rosé on the table. “I guess you could call it that. In fact, I think that’s the most politically correct description I’ve heard for what I do.”
“My other guess was going to be bartender.” I took a drink of beer. “You’ve got that look. Like people open up to you and you’ve heard a lot of sob stories about their lives.”
“You’re good.” She pointed at me with her index finger. “Also fitting, but I…do a different kind of mixing.” She smirked as she took a sip of her wine.
I raised an eyebrow to inquire as I played with the condensation ring on the worn tabletop. “Well, you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
“I’m a sex therapist. A couple’s expert,” she replied.
I instantly spit my mouthful of beer in a fine mist across the table and choked.
“Oh, my gosh. Are you okay?” She whacked me on the back and handed me a napkin.
“Fine,” I croaked. “Just swallowed wrong.”
“Looks like you’re a spitter to me,” she said, looking at the droplets on the table.
“You’re so young. Didn’t you have to go to school for years to do that?”
“It was nothing short of a miracle with how much I had to work my ass off. I did Running Start in high school. After I graduated, I pulled a double major in college. Living on nothing but energy drinks and coffee for a few years probably aged me more than I’m willing to admit, but I’ve known this was what I wanted to do since I was sixteen.”
Good night! When I was sixteen, I was more concerned about finding ways to sneak out late at night and what new CDs were going to drop that week. Not one fiber of my being knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Thinking about it, I had no clue while I sat with Lucy at The Fill & Spill that night.
“So, which cruise line do you work for?” I asked hoarsely.
“DeLuge. Well, technically, I’m still job shadowing for a couple of more months. But when the new ship sets sail to Alaska next year, I’ll be considered permanent staff.”
“Isn’t the DeLuge Cruise like a giant orgy?” I asked, my eyes still watering from the beer I’d somehow inhaled into my lungs. Everything stunk like hops.
“Come on. That makes it sound so grimy.” She paused. “I’d describe it as a multi-day wild party with unrestricted, sexual activity. Nothing wrong with exploring your options. Gotta know what floats your boat.” She winked.
“I see what you did there. Cruise. Boat.”
“I like you.” She laughed. “If you’re interested, I can give you my employee discount. You know, if you need a break after all this funeral stuff is over. Half off.”
“I don’t think a sex cruise is really my style,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” she replied. “But they have an amazing gift shop. There’s a four-star buffet. The chef makes the best crème brûlée. It’s out of this world! Oh! And there’s shuffleboard. See? It’s not all sex, all the time.”
“Well, with a slogan like, “If you build it, they will come”, that accompanies softcore porn music on the TV commercials, it doesn’t lead the mind to believe much else goes on,” I said.
“And come, they sure do.” Lucy got a dreamy look on her face and raised her glass in an imaginary toast. “Over and over again.”
Three years ago, Jonathan DeLuge discovered there was a niche in the dating industry, a demand for a sexually driven cruise line. A place where men and women, regardless of sexual orientation, married or not, could explore their fantasies without risk of STDs, an extramarital affair, or non-consensual sex. It was all-inclusive, which included limitless room-hopping. Money wasn’t allowed while the ship was at sea to deter any whisper of prostitution. I’d heard the application process was extensive. Blood tests and full-body physicals were required to rule out any diseases. Spouses were required to sign off via notary if both weren’t embarking on the trip. For a shady-sounding setup, a lot of thought had been put into it. And the business model brought in a ton of money. A ton. Numbers on the stock market soared. That specific cruise line had been under scrutiny on the news since it’d opened, but it still operated without less than a stellar rating on the Better Business Bureau. And it was more often referred to in the everyday world as the “Spooge Cruise”. I wouldn’t want to be a housekeeper on that boat. The thought of what those stiff bedsheets endured was enough to make me cringe.
“What do you do for work?” she asked, not taking her eyes off Santi as she shot him a wink and a flirtatious wave.
“Nothing fancy or exciting like you. I worked…work for a plastic surgeon. A company called Jensen & Jensen.” I wasn’t ready to reveal my unemployed status, especially to a sex therapist who represented a smutty cruise line.
“Oh, wow. That must be rewarding, right? Helping people feel better about themselves.”
I thought back to Cash and our one-sided arrangement. One-sided dates. One-sided dinners. One-sided sex. One-sided decisions. There was no reward on my end. I was the giver, and he was the taker. I still wasn’t ready to admit what we’d had was ever classified as a relationship…because it wasn’t. None of it mattered though; it was over. “Yeah. Super satisfying. Can’t wait to get back.”
Just then, the 90s music faded away as a solo performer walked up onto the stage. Most of the crowd hushed, with the exception of a group of men wolf-whistling at her. Her level of confidence was unrivaled; she didn’t flinch. The woman looked young, but something behind her eyes told me she had experience. If I had to guess, she was probably in her mid to late twenties. The A-frame sign propped up on the corner of the stage spelled out “Wonder” in curly chalk letters on a black backdrop. She wore thick-knit fishnets and a strapless black dress that accentuated the many tattoos spanning her arms. Heavy eyeliner made her appearance look fierce, yet it remained feminine. Her hair was an impressive masterpiece though. With her head shaved on one side, the other side hung down to her shoulder in a reverse bob, a sea of bright pink and blue.
A man with kinky white hair spoke into a microphone near the edge of the stage behind a folding table that overflowed with DJ equipment. “Karaoke is over for tonight, and you all did an amazing job. Now, let’s give a warm welcome to Wonder!”
The audience applauded and chanted her name.
I steered the conversation once again, not wanting any chance of the spotlight remaining on me. “I didn’t know Wonder played here. I adore her music,” I said.
“Me too! Fucking love her! Hey, she’s going to be playin
g up in Leavenworth next month when I’m not working. We should totally go and make it into a girl’s trip with ‘Veigh. Plus, all the Christmas stuff should be up soon.”
“I’m only in town for the funeral,” I replied, trying to weave disappointment into my words. “Leavenworth’s a little far from where I’m living now.”
“Too bad.” She stuck out her lower lip. “I haven’t met too many others who knew of her right off the bat. I’m still not sure how this chick hasn’t landed a huge record deal yet.”
Where is Daveigh? I craned my neck, trying to look over the crowd.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re wound up tighter than a two-dollar watch,” Lucy said.
“I’m fine.” I wrung a bar napkin in my hands while my knee bounced nervously.
“Right.” She studied me. “Is that why you’re killing that poor thing?”
I looked down at the coiled-up piece of paper. “Rough day. Week. Month. Whatever you want to call it.” I set it down and drank the remaining two thirds of my beer without coming up for air.
“Blue, when was the last time you were laid?” she asked me with a straight face.
I spit my drink across the table for a second time that night, the spray hitting the sleeve of her shirt. “Excuse me?”
“You’re two for two. Goes to show spitters aren’t quitters.” She blotted her arm with a napkin I hadn’t destroyed yet.
I felt my cheeks redden. “Sorry.”
“Well?”
“Well what?” I asked.
“You know. When did you last sink the sausage? Cuddle aggressively? Participate in performing the disappearing cane trick?”
My jaw fell slightly and I was at a loss for words. Being that brazen about sex with a stranger wasn’t a normal Saturday night activity for me.
She reached across the table and rested the pad of her index finger below my chin and lifted slightly to close the gap between my lips. “This is Steele Falls, honey. There are no secrets here. We’re all friends. So, when was the last time someone dipped their wick in your honey pot?”
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