by Natasha West
Eden took another spoonful of bad bisque, wishing to god she could at least claim a gerbil. But no, as ever, she was the dull one. Though that didn’t seem to matter to Steph, who was eyeing her up from across the table. Why was it always the young ones? Why couldn’t she attract the ones in their mid-thirties, like her, someone she could relate to a bit better?
She glanced over at Maggie, who seemed about her age, and at least from initial observations, semi-substantial and pleasant looking. But she was chatting animatedly to the woman next to her, a very good-looking make-up artist called Isabella. She had an arsey way about her, sneering at everyone and everything from the moment she sat down. Maggie was apparently into that.
‘So, Eden,’ Steph called over, ‘What do you do for work.’
‘I work in PR.’
Steph’s eyes glazed over immediately. ‘Oh?’ she said, trying with very little success to feign interest. ‘What exactly is PR?’
‘It can be a lot of things, but generally, we run a company’s social media presence, organise campaigns, push positive stories in the media, strengthen brands,’ Eden told her. ‘What do you do?’
‘I work in a high-end gym,’ Steph said. She turned to the person sat between them, Mary. ‘Hey, can we swap a sec?’
‘By all means,’ Mary said, and Steph was suddenly right up close, Eden was dismayed to find.
‘Is that fun, working in a gym?’ Eden asked though she didn’t care.
‘It can be. We get a lot of drama,’ Steph said. And then she launched into a rather banal story about a thief who’d made off with dozens of fluffy towels over the course of months before he was discovered. ‘It was me that cracked the case in the end,’ Steph crowed. ‘Noticed his bag was significantly bigger than when he went in. Caught him red-handed, three in his bag, his biggest haul.’
‘Why did he need so many towels?’
‘We asked him that. He said he didn’t need them. It just made him feel alive to take them.’
Eden was trying to think of what to say to that when Isabella’s voice suddenly rose, and everyone turned to see her saying very loudly to Maggie, ‘Look, it’s night one. I’m not going back to your room. I’ve barely met anyone.’
Maggie’s face was flush with embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t… I was just asking if you wanted to…’ Maggie turned to the table. ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ she told everyone.
Beatrice picked up her drink and muttered, ‘The first drama, and we’re not even on the main.’
Everyone at the table looked away from Maggie and Isabella, turning their attention to their food. Eden realised there were worse things than being the least interesting person at the table. She was slightly shocked at Maggie, she wouldn’t have thought she’d be so quick on the buzzer. She had a whole week. But maybe she just wanted to make sure she had something to write about? Well, she’d achieved that.
‘So, what’s everyone doing after dinner?’ Beatrice asked the table, trying to smooth over the little bump.
‘I think I know what I’m not doing,’ Isabella muttered.
Maggie tutted. ‘Christ, I just said a drink in my room. I didn’t say-’
‘Because there’s karaoke at nine,’ Beatrice went on.
‘Oh, I’m a terrible singer,’ Eden said automatically.
‘I’m sure you’re not,’ Steph said with a smirk.
‘No. I really am,’ Eden assured her. Her tone-deafness was legendary. When she was fifteen, she’d gone Christmas carolling, and numerous people had come out and paid her to stop.
‘Ooh, karaoke? Lovely,’ said Mary. ‘I wonder if they’ve got You Oughta Know by Alanis Morrissette?’
‘I guess I could come along, but I probably won’t sing,’ Eden said. If a sixty-year-old former nun was going to sing about going down on people in theatres, it was worth a look. But she was starting to wonder if this cruise was going to be all she hoped. Looking around the large packed room, at everyone talking, schmoozing, flirting, she thought maybe things would be like they always were. Eden, alone in the crowd.
Five
Natalie was being taken somewhere, Max leading her by the arm. Saz and Caz were in front, Angelique bringing up the rear of the party, Florence straggling, threatening to peel off and go back to her room, but never quite doing it. Natalie wasn’t exactly sure where they were all going because she’d gone to the toilet and when she’d come back, everyone was getting up, and Max was saying, ‘Come on, we’re leaving.’
Natalie, fairly tipsy, didn’t ask where, just let herself be led. Before she knew it, she was in a large, dark bar, a fresh drink in her hand, supplied by Max.
‘You’re buying me another drink?’ Natalie asked tentatively. What she really wanted to ask was, ‘Are you trying to get me drunk to have your wicked way?’
‘Relax, it’s just a Diet Coke,’ Max assured her.
Natalie sniffed it.
‘Seriously. It’s Coke. Look, if you have to get a girl drunk, what’s the point?’ Max asked with a grin.
Natalie wasn’t sure what to say to that. Max was really pushing it with the flirting. Natalie hadn’t really decided what to do if she took it beyond talk. What she did know was that Max, though rather hot, wasn’t really girlfriend material and didn’t seem to want to be from all the talk of swiping. And wasn’t that the point of all this? To find love if it was on the boat to be found?
Still, she’d had a couple of drinks and was feeling rather loose. Plus, it was rather hard not to enjoy the attention of a gorgeous young woman who could have anyone she liked. Natalie had to wonder where this evening might end up.
Natalie realised the music in the bar sounded a bit odd, and she turned to its source to see an older lady with a kind face and a large crucifix around her neck standing on a stage, belting out a surprisingly committed version of You Oughta Know.
‘We’re at karaoke!’ Natalie exclaimed.
Max nodded. ‘It’s a bit boring waiting around for your turn, but it’s lesbian catnip. Everyone will be here.’
Natalie hated karaoke. It wasn’t the singing part; it was the part where everyone watched you do it. Natalie couldn’t bear that type of scrutiny. ‘I’m not singing.’
‘Not even a little duet?’ Max asked with a small smile.
‘I, err…’ Natalie stammered.
‘Come on, Angelique’s finding us somewhere to sit,’ Max said, grabbing Natalie by the arm and dragging her through the crowd to find the dinner crew sat around yet another table. Max sat down, and Natalie sat next to her.
Caz and Saz were pouring over a list of songs, getting pretty excited. ‘Ooh, they’ve got Don’t Stop Believin’! Caz shrilled.
‘Florence, you doing a turn?’ Saz asked the woman.
Florence raised an eyebrow. ‘I suppose I might if they’ve got any Patsy Cline.’
Caz dove into the book. ‘They’ve got Crazy!’
‘Not that one,’ Florence sighed, stroking Jonty.
‘I’m doing Whitney, so no one else even think about it,’ Angelique noted.
‘Wow, going big,’ Max noted.
‘What about you, Natalie?’ Angelique asked.
‘I don’t do karaoke,’ Natalie said politely.
‘I’m working on her,’ Max told Angelique.
‘I bet you are,’ Caz said. Saz exploded with laughter.
Natalie was just about ready to burst into flames by now. She didn’t like the way Max’s flirting had become an open topic. It was like being back at school, everyone teasing you about some boy who’d pulled your pigtails. It felt like people were expecting them to hook up. Natalie didn’t know if she wanted that, but if she did, it wasn’t going to be because of bloody peer pressure.
Natalie suddenly felt like she wanted to be alone. She wondered if anyone would care if she left. She was just trying to come up with a good excuse to go back to her room so she could sit in the bath and wait to sober up, when there was some sort of din from the table near the front of the stage, a few metre
s away. A young woman who looked like a knockoff Megan Rapinoe was saying loudly, ‘Go on! You’ll be great!’
Natalie tried to ignore the scene, starting up her exit speech. ‘So, anyway, I’m feeling kind of…’ But before she could get to the excuse part - something about feeling funny from the bisque - she heard a voice say, ‘Maybe another time.’ Something about the voice snagged Natalie’s ear, a familiarity. Natalie turned to it to see its owner. As her eyes found the speaker, her mouth dropped open. She stood and began to drift toward the woman, to confirm or deny what her slightly drunk eyes were telling her. Before she knew it, she was only a foot away from Eden Tyler.
‘What the hell?!’ Natalie said to herself. But it was louder than she thought because Eden spun around. They were now eyeball to eyeball.
‘Natalie?’ Eden exclaimed.
‘Err… I… Hi,’ Natalie said, trying to collect herself.
‘Hi,’ Eden said, her eyes round with surprise. ‘I didn’t… This is… Wow.’ Eden shook herself. ‘Sorry, I’m sort of taken aback.’
‘Me too,’ Natalie said, her hypnotic state starting to melt. ‘I hadn’t realised… I mean, I didn’t even know that you…’
‘Same here,’ Eden replied. ‘I mean, if you were going to say what I think you were going to say, which is that I wouldn’t have expected you to go on a singles cruise and that I didn’t know you liked women.’
‘That’s pretty much right,’ Natalie stuttered. Classic Eden, always one step ahead. Even now.
‘Who’s your friend?’ asked fake Megan Rapinoe loudly, right over a whispery version of Since U Been Gone, breaking the concentration of the singer for a second.
‘Oh. This is… It’s actually someone I work with,’ Eden said, in much more respectful tones. The Kelly Clarkson fan recovered herself and carried on.
‘Well, does she want to come and sit with us?’ Fake Megan asked, gesturing at the table.
‘You wanna meet… I guess my new friends?’ Eden asked with a bemused smile.
Natalie didn’t want to do any such thing. ‘Sure.’
Eden led her over to the table, and she sat down. Fake Megan was on her like a jackal immediately. ‘You work with Eden at the…’ She trailed off like she regretted starting a sentence she didn’t know how to end.
‘At the PR company,’ Eden completed with a small smile.
‘Yeah. Eden’s my boss,’ Natalie told the table.
‘Kind of,’ Eden corrected, and then she went around the table naming everyone. Beatrice, Maggie, Isabella, Mary and it turned out fake Megan was called Steph. Just as Natalie was trying to fix those names in her head, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see Max looming over her. ‘Hey, where’d you go?’ Max asked.
‘Oh, I just met someone I know, sorry,’ Natalie said apologetically.
Max looked at the table. She saw Eden. ‘Well. Hello again,’ she said with a mild leer.
Natalie could have sworn Eden’s smile went a bit tight. ‘Yes, hello.’
Max glanced around the table, and Natalie saw her eyes land on Isabella, who was watching the bad singer with a pained look. Max gave a little nod to herself and said, ‘You know, maybe this is the table to be at, Natalie. Mind if I sit down?’ She plonked herself down without an invite.
Natalie was mildly horrified. She hadn’t been planning to stay at this table, and now she was trapped because Max, as ever, was playing the odds. Though maybe she could whisper in her ear? She could explain that she didn’t want to be here because Eden was her boss, and this was awkward as fuck. But then Caz and Saz were waving from their table. Max gestured to them casually, and Natalie watched in utter dismay as they dragged Angelique and Florence across the room.
‘So, this is where the party is?’ Caz said. She started nicking seats from nearby, and everyone at Eden’s table budged in, apparently happy for the fresh blood. Names were swapped, hands shaken, and the group had grown and mutated. But Max had placed herself between Natalie and Eden, and Natalie thought that was the only happy thing about this. They couldn’t talk.
Meanwhile, everyone else was chatting away. Even Florence was conversing with a woman named Beatrice. Apparently, they knew some people in common, and they set to ripping them to shreds immediately. Maggie was talking to Caz and Saz, asking them if they’d like to be interviewed for an article she was writing. Angelique was talking to Mary about Alanis Morissette. Isabella was sitting back sipping on a drink, glancing disdainfully at everyone. Max was talking to Eden, with interjections from Steph, who was clearly unhappy about the encroachment on her territory. And Natalie? Natalie was odd woman out, as ever. But it was way worse than before because her beautiful, smart, popular boss was there to bring a little bit of Natalie’s real life with her. If there had ever been a chance that Natalie could reinvent herself on this trip – which had been slim, Natalie had to admit – that opportunity was now buggered. It was business as usual. People fawning over Eden while Natalie sat there, forgotten.
Six
Eden was in hell, stuck at a table between sleazebag Max and desperate Steph. The evening was now officially a shitshow.
She glanced over at Natalie, who was watching a lady with a fauxhawk singing One Way or Another with a bit too much intensity. Eden had now worked through some of her shock at seeing Natalie and was trying to understand why the universe had done this to her, placing her co-worker on this ship of fools to watch her attempt to meet someone. And what in the world was Natalie doing here, anyway? Of all the people she might have expected to come across on this boat, Natalie was only slightly behind Elizabeth II and Donald Trump. She was a serious person who looked all wrong at singles karaoke. The only context where Natalie made sense was behind her desk, deep in focus, getting things done in that dogged, determined way. Not here, on a boat full of people looking for love.
But Eden had to remind herself that she didn’t really know anything about Natalie’s personal life. She hadn’t even known she was queer. Then again, why would she? You knew about Natalie only what she wanted you to, which was roughly nothing. Eden could relate. Everyone at work thought they knew her, but they just saw the veneer that Eden draped over herself. She supposed she and Natalie had that in common.
Eden would have loved to find out something about what had led Natalie here. But she was trapped between these two piranhas, snapping at her flesh.
‘So, you’re Natalie’s boss?’ Max was asking as though she couldn’t think of a single thing more fascinating. ‘Did you know she was going to be here?’
‘No, actually,’ Eden replied. ‘Complete surprise.’
‘That’s crazy,’ Steph noted.
‘It really is,’ Eden agreed.
‘You work closely?’ Max asked.
‘Her office is next to mine,’ Eden said by way of reply. Because they did work together, but Eden didn’t know if she could use the word ‘closely.’
‘Wow, that is one hot workplace,’ Max said. ‘I don’t know how anyone gets anything done. I’d be knee-deep in drama if I worked there.’
Eden laughed. ‘Yeah. I bet you would.’
Max sighed. ‘I only work with one woman at the coffee van, and she looks like Groucho Marx, so…’
‘The gym’s like that. So much drama,’ Steph jumped in. ‘I’ve slept with loads of women there.’
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘How many?’
Steph calculated. ‘At least three.’ She saw the unimpressed look on Max’s face, and she began to scramble. ‘I mean, five. You know what, I was forgetting a few, it’s over ten. In fact, I don’t even know how many.’
‘Right,’ Max said dryly. ‘What a stud.’
‘Oh, you’re up to your tits in women, are you?’ Steph said defensively.
‘I don’t talk about that,’ Max said smugly. ‘People who are genuinely successful at getting laid don’t need to. Too busy doing it for a start.’
Isabella, quiet until that moment, suddenly spoke. ‘Oh, wow. Must be great to have that
many STIs.’
‘Was anyone talking to you?’ Max shot back. Isabella laughed and turned away again.
‘You’re fucking rude, you are,’ Steph told Max.
Eden knew then that things had tipped. ‘Err, guys?’ Eden said calmly. ‘Why don’t we take it down a notch-’
‘Eden, darling, I’m cool as a cucumber. But I think someone is getting a bit red in the face because she’s been trying to get your attention and maybe she’s not your cup of tea?’ Max said to Eden though the statement was obviously aimed at Steph.