Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that must be it.”
She would never understand why everyone in Clovis insisted she was special. Sure Lucy had a perfect SAT score, but so did a lot of other people. It was hardly the stuff of legend. For as long as she could remember, though, they’d all been poised for her to do something great. Something important, so that the dying town could finally have a citizen to be proud of.
Well, if they were pinning their hopes on her, they were in for a long damn wait.
“Hey, what are you wearing to formal night?” Marnie asked with dramatic concern. “It’s not red, is it? Because Taffi’s dress is red. If you wear the same dress as her again…” She trailed off, letting Lucy’s imagination fill in the rest.
Lucy paused with her drink halfway to her mouth. “Shit.” She looked over at Marnie. “Her dress is red, too?”
Marnie bobbed her head, going pale. “Oh God.” She was a bubbly blonde whose greatest achievement in life would always be her status as an alternate on the cheer squad. At age thirty-three, there was still a yellow and blue ribbon in her hair. “What are you going to do?” She gasped in genuine horror. A tragedy of this magnitude froze her round face into an overly mascaraed jack-o-lantern. Wide eyes and a gaping mouth, with nothing but the faintest flicker of light illuminating the empty interior of her skull.
Airhead or not, Lucy didn’t blame Marnie for the look of fear, though. Taffi’s reaction to Lucy’s red dress would make the Lusitania seem like a Disney cruise. The tantrum would ruin a trip that was already teetering on the edge of “maybe I should swim for shore” rotten.
Wonderful.
Typically, Lucy wasn’t a big drinker. When she drank, she did stupid things, like get tattoos. But, alcohol really was the best option here. She belted back her third margarita and slammed the glass back down on the bar top. “I have to go find another dress. The ship has a gift shop, right?”
“On level three. You’d better hurry. Dinner’s in an hour.”
God, this whole weekend had been such a mistake.
Lucy headed for the elevator, brooding. She hated high school reunions even more than she’d hated high school. Maybe it would’ve been different if she’d become the kind of super success everyone had imagined. She’d been valedictorian of the class. The smartest kid in school. She was supposed to go out and change the world.
Obviously, the world had made other plans.
If she’d had a super-terrific job or even a husband and some cute pictures of their 2.3 kids to pass around, maybe she wouldn’t feel so miserable. But, in the end, Lucy hadn’t been nearly so special as everyone assumed. All she’d accomplished was getting a master’s degree that couldn’t land her a job beyond checkout clerk at Barnes and Noble and having a social calendar so empty little tumbleweeds sometimes blew across the blank squares.
Hell, the closest she’d gotten to a man in years were her dreams.
Actually, the dream last night had been the best part of the trip, so far. Soundly beating highpoint number two: free Mardi Gras beads with every drink. (There were only so many strands a girl could wear and still look respectable.) Last night, though, she’d fallen asleep on her small balcony, rather than go to the tedious class mixer. The antisocial tendencies thing, again. Mrs. What’s-Her-Name the guidance counselor would’ve been so disappointed.
In her nostalgia-and-travel-commercial fugue state, Lucy had sprung for the upgraded room. Rather than eat dry chicken with morons, she’d figured she might as well enjoy the sea view that VISA would be charging her twenty percent interest for until the turn of the next millennium. It had been a warm evening. She’d been wearing her favorite silk nightgown, staring up at the stars and feeling lonely.
Lucy always felt lonely.
Maybe she really should just buy a cute little dog. She was always talking about it. Dogs seemed easier than people. No matter how much she disliked joining in, she’d always wanted somewhere to belong. Somewhere she’d feel welcome. She’d just never found it.
When Lucy nodded off, she’d been seduced by her caveman.
Since high school, she’d been dreaming of the same guy. Bits and pieces of him, anyway. Just enough to make her feel depressed and achy to wake up by herself. About once a year, give or take a couple months, he showed up and it was always like Christmas morning to see him, again.
Looking at the caveman, everything seemed to make sense. It seemed like he was the place she’d been searching for. The spot where she belonged.
…But in the morning she was always alone. It was like the caveman was taunting her, showing her all the things she could never have. Hell, she’d gotten a paleontology degree, because she’d been so caught up in the fantasy of being closer to him.
Sometimes it seemed like the caveman was the realest part of her life.
Usually, Lucy just had fragments of him, but this dream had been so clear. So real. She’d been able to see him better than ever before. Her caveman was… perfect. No one else could compare to his long tawny hair and big calloused hands. He was handsome and tender. And huge, with a chest straight out of an action movie and the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
Last night was better than any real sex she’d ever had and they hadn’t even gotten to finish. He’d wanted her so badly he was shaking. For a second, he seemed to get overwhelmed by his desire, but then he got himself under control and started touching her like she was delicate. Like he was afraid he might hurt her. Despite the fact he could probably bench press a car, he’d been careful with her. She always felt safe with the caveman. Cherished.
…And incredibly turned on.
God, all she had to do was think about him and her pulse kicked into overdrive. This time it had seemed like she might get to finish in the dream. That would’ve been a first. And she’d been so close. But, right as things were about to get interesting, it got all earthquake-y and symbolic. Typical. Lucy had jerked awake with her body weeping for him and her heart pounding.
Also, the straps of her nightgown had been torn. That had been weird.
The elevator door binged open and Lucy shook her head. She started for the small store, still thinking about the dream man. His name was Rhawn. She’d always wondered about that.
Since he only existed in her mind, she supposed she could’ve just made up a name for him years ago. It had never occurred to her to do that, though. Crazy as it seemed, she’d always known he’d tell her when he got the chance. Just giving him a fake name wouldn’t have meant nearly so much as him sharing his real one. Which was completely crazy, but…
“Moose-y!”
She froze at the dreaded nickname, horror filling her. Faith came easily in times of disaster and she began to pray for a miracle. “Don’t let it be Warren. Don’t let it be Warren.”
Warren Ples appeared, conclusively proving that God hated her. “Well, I don’t know what all those rumors are talking about. You haven’t packed on too much more weight since graduation.” He gave her a thumbs up. “Good for you.”
The hate. The hate.
It swept over her again, the clearest memory of her high school experience. Warren was Satan in a letterman’s jacket. Every day for four years, she’d detested breathing the same air as Woodward High’s “star” quarterback and now she was right back in the pit with the bastard.
Lucy slowly turned to face him. “Warren, didn’t we have a pact never to speak unless one of us was on fire and needed a heads-up? Even then, I think we had a hand signal worked out.”
“Yeah, but that was because you were such snotty bitch.” He told her easily. “We’re passed that now, ya know?”
Warren had the irritating habit of turning every statement into a question by adding “ya know?” to the end. It was one of the ten-thousand things she detested about the man.
Physically, he looked pretty much the same as he always did. Not quite as attractive as he pretended to be, with the bulky build of a football player who hadn’t made the cut for a scholarsh
ip offer. His final game at Woodward High had been such a catastrophe that they were still shaking their heads about it around Clovis. No college would put him on the field after the Homecoming fiasco, even though he’d been an above average player up until then.
One bad day ruined it all for Warren and nobody was even surprised when it happened.
Warren was a guy who juuuust missed the mark in everything he did. Everyone knew it, so they didn’t even expect him to hold things together. His whole life was an “almost.” Bad choices, bad luck, bad timing… He was just doomed to failure. These days, he had two of the meanest ex-wives ever spawned and sold Saturns on his dad’s car lot.
And probably still made more per hour than Lucy did.
Ass hat.
“I’ll always be a snotty bitch to you, Warren.” Lucy assured him and headed off to find a non-red dress. Given the state of her day, it was no surprise that pretty much all the gift shop offered in the way of clothing options were bathing suits, sarongs and terrycloth bathrobes. Why couldn’t this be one of the luxury cruises with the onboard malls?
Warren followed her around the small store, not taking the hint. His dark hair seemed to have been affixed to his head with Crisco to hide his developing bald spot. “Seriously, you had --like-- some kind of Goth-girl-from-The-Breakfast-Club thing going on in high school.” He informed her, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing his Woodward High football jersey, which was all kinds of sad. “All you did was read books in the library and dress in man-hating flannel and whine about how the ball players didn’t take the same tests as the rest of the class, ya know?”
“Because, your tests were easier.”
“Because, we needed good grades to stay on the team! You fucked up all my weekends with your complaining. I had to stay home and study.” He frowned at her. “Fifteen years and you still can’t admit that you were wrong about that?”
“Fifteen years and you still don’t see that I was right about that?” Lucy snapped back. But, it annoyed her that Warren was little bit right, too. Not about the tests, obviously. And she’d never been a full on Goth kid, nor had she hated men. She just hated Warren. She’d definitely been a loner, though. It was her nature to stand back and roll her eyes rather than join in.
“Taffi broke-up with me, because I couldn’t take her out on Saturdays.” Warren insisted. “Otherwise, we’d probably be married now and this would be my boat, ya know?”
Jesus, it was like the Mobius strip of tenth grade debate all over again. “Taffi’s husband works for the cruise line, first of all. They don’t own this boat. Secondly, Taffi’s husband works for the cruise line. If she’d married you, we wouldn’t even know about this boat, because we’re only here due to the fact she married to him.” She paused. “Also, you broke up because she screwed Craig Turkana at her birthday party.”
Warren’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to apologize, are you?”
“That’s it. We’re reinstating the rule.” Lucy decided. “No talking to each other, unless one of us spontaneously combusts.” She turned back to the racks of clothes, picking up a t-shirt without much hope. “It’s the only way you’re getting off this ship with all of your limbs attached.”
“The least you could do is…”
“Where is she?” Taffi slammed into the gift shop, interrupting his complaint. Her expression was wild and her eyes narrowed in a way sure to cause premature wrinkles. Her plastic surgeon would have palpitations if he saw. “You bitch! You think you’re stealing my dress, again?”
Damn Marnie-from-third-period-bio. That pumpkin-headed twit always did have a big mouth. She must have rushed off to tell Taffi all about the impending maritime disaster.
“I’m buying a new outfit, Taffi. Just calm down…”
“Damn right you are!” The artful layers of Taffi’s hair flew in all directions as she advanced on Lucy. She looked like she was wearing a scaled down version of the infamous blue dress, complete with corsage. Where the hell had she found a freaking corsage at sea? The woman just wasn’t sane on the subject of proms. “You won’t spoil this for me, too, Lucy!”
“Hey, Taffi.” Warren gave her a leer, somehow managing to telegraph to everyone in the cute little boutique that they’d once had lots and lots of sex. “How you doin’, babe?”
“Fuck off, Warren.” Taffi didn’t even glance his way. Instead, she glared at the shirt in Lucy’s hand. “You think you’re wearing that to Formal Night? Do you want to ruin the beautiful dinner that the Alumni Committee has planned? Is that it?” She shook her head. “This is why we’ve been enemies since kindergarten, you freak.”
Lucy decided to wear the damn shirt just to piss Taffi off. It was neon orange, with the silhouette of the cruise ship on the front and its name written in gold glitter: The Arden. It would serve Taffi right to…
From out of nowhere, Lucy remembered the dream, again.
Rhawn’s stark face as he whispered, “It’s the Ardin. The sinking.”
A strange premonition swept over Lucy. The same feeling she got the day her grandfather had died a hundred miles away or when she switched seats on a bus just before the driver had sideswiped a telephone pole. A deep, inexplicable knowing.
Oh God.
Lucy’s eyes widened in panic. Not bothering to put the t-shirt down, she headed out of the shop. “We have to get up on deck! Now.”
“What?” Warren followed her, but he didn’t look happy about it. “Why?” He pulled out his folded shipboard itinerary to double-check the schedule. “All we’re missing are shuffleboard lessons, ya know?”
“Lucy, you didn’t pay for that shirt.” Taffi protested hotly, trailing after them like the eternal hall monitor. “My husband is a vital member of this crew and I’m not going to let you just steal from his ship.”
Lucy ignored them. All she could process was the pounding of her own heart as she ran up the stairs. Goddamn it, what level were the lifeboats on? Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to that stupid TV safety message they’d played yesterday afternoon?
Craig Turkana, Woodward High’s “most likely to get the electric chair,” watched her race by. He wasn’t some handsome rebel in the Fonzie, James Dean, Luke Perry tradition of high school bad boys. He was just the kind of low rent scumbag who dealt drugs behind the cafeteria and sold pictures of his sister in the shower.
Lucy had no idea why Craig had even bothered to come to the reunion. Maybe he’d just needed a way to flee the state.
“Where you goin’ in such a hurry, Meadowcroft?” He called, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and an ancient shirt that read “Fuck the World” covering his chest. “Brainiac marathon?” He chuckled at his own barley coherent wit. Lucy obviously wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the cruise’s open bar. “For real, I’m glad you’re here, though. There’s some stuff I’ve waited fifteen year to say to…”
Lucy cut him off. “Get up on deck!” She ordered, although she probably should’ve just spared Craig’s future victims the heartache and let him drown. “This boat is going to sink.”
“Huh?” Warren said with a typical show of razor-sharp intelligence.
“That’s crazy.” Taffi sputtered. “This ship can’t sink. We have it rented until Monday.”
Craig was a bit quicker on the uptake. He might have been a career criminal, but he’d never been stupid. Even half-drunk, he quickly assessed the situation and saw that Lucy was serious.
Perhaps remembering the twelfth grade library fire she’d shown up to douse seconds after he’d started it… Craig believed her. For whatever reason, he’d always insisted that she’d had some kind of psychic flash that day and he held it against her. It was another example of people ascribing Lucy with a specialness she just didn’t have. Really, she’s just smelled the kerosene.
“Do we have time to get the life vests from the rooms?” Craig sounded nearly sober.
“I don’t think so. I think we just have to get to the…”
Sh
e was cut off when the Arden suddenly listed to the left. Port, she mentally corrected herself, because nautical precision was important when you were caught in The Poseidon Adventure. They were listing to port.
Lucy held on as the entire ship rolled to a sickening new angle. All around her, she heard people shouting in panic and objects falling. Metal creaked. Glass broke. Sirens started going off. She thought she smelled smoke.
Oh yeah. Taffi was definitely going to be giving her a refund for this “vacation.”
Using the decorative bannister of the staircase as a ladder, Lucy pulled herself upward. She had to get to the deck or she’d be caught inside when ship went down.
Warren and Taffi changed their minds about her mental state and frantically climbed after her, as the ship twisted further onto its side. Behind them, there was a reverberating crash. Lucy turned to see half the steps she’d just climbed fall away. Taffi and Warren barely made it to the jagged piece of landing that remained. If she hadn’t left the store when she did, they all would’ve been stranded down there.
It’s the Ardin. The sinking.
Rhawn’s warning had saved her life.
So far.
“Go!” She shouted at Craig.
He didn’t need the prompting. He sprinted for the exterior door at the top of the stairs. It had swung open when the ship made its ominous roll. Outside, Lucy saw lightening flash. It hadn’t been raining before, but now a storm raged like something out of a George Clooney film.
Lucy hesitated, suddenly more afraid of what lay behind the door than what she’d face inside. Wait. How could the weather have deteriorated into a typhoon in a matter of minutes? What was going on?
“Move!” Warren shrieked. “Move! Move!” He shoved passed her, pushing Lucy through the door in the process.
She stumbled out onto the sharply-angled deck, forgetting about the mysterious hurricane. All that mattered was getting to the lifeboats. On the wall, she spotted an emergency sign pointing towards the stern and she automatically headed that way. Just a few more moments and she’d be safe. All she needed was a few more…
Once Upon a Caveman Page 3