by Tonia Brown
“You’re too good for this kind of work. Why don’t you retire and get out of the game?”
“Because I play the game very, very well.” Penny winked at him. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Banjo took the hint and left her to finish getting ready. He made his way to the lower deck, and he couldn’t help wonder what really kept a girl like Penny mixed up in such a dangerous trade. Sure, Banjo’s work had dangers all its own, yet a hit man was nothing like a prostitute. Penny made her money taking advantage of folks when they were at their most vulnerable, and Banjo plied his trade taking advantage of …
With a smile, Banjo cocked his head at the notion that perhaps he and Penny weren’t so different after all.
Chapter Nine
Platinum Blonde
A bit after eight o’clock
“Boy,” Walter said. “You weren’t kidding about folks leaving you be.”
Otto nodded in agreement. Save for the ghost of his dead uncle, Otto sat alone at a small table in the back of the dining room. Folks wandered about, drinking and carousing, eating and chatting. No one drank or ate or caroused or chatted with Otto. There were a few times when it looked like someone might take the only seat across from him, hopefully dethroning the ghost in the process, but no. Otto remained bereft of living company.
“You reckon they all know you’re a pervert?” Walter said. “Or just the staff? Because it seems like everyone is avoiding you. I guess that could be part of your natural charm.” The corpse chuckled.
Otto cut his eyes at the dead man.
“What in the world are you drinking?” Walter said. “Looks like a martini. Tell me that ain’t a martini.”
Otto sipped at the martini and didn’t answer.
“Martinis are for women and gay men,” Walter said. “The only man who can get away with a martini is James Bond. You are nowhere near being double oh seven, son. No wonder the women won’t sit with you.”
Otto shrugged and sipped again.
“Come on,” Walter said as he crossed his arms. “I’m bored. Talk to me. It’s not like talking to yourself is gonna matter to this crowd. Everyone already thinks you’re a weirdo.”
“Leave me alone,” Otto said into his napkin.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to wander off and let you spend a few quiet hours planning on how you’re gonna spend all of my money.”
Otto glared at Walter over the brim of his martini glass. Why was everything about money with the man?
“Well you can forget about that,” Walter said. “I ain’t going nowhere. I plan on sticking to you like stink on shit until you get my ashes in the water.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Otto said, much more loudly than he intended. “I don’t even have your ashes with me!”
Feeling the pressure of eyes on him, Otto slowly turned about in his chair to find a pair of old ladies ogling him from the next table.
Otto nodded as he lifted his martini. “Ladies. Nice boat, isn’t it?”
The pair stood from their table and huddled together, whispering gossip back and forth as they walked away.
“Happy now?” Otto said softly. “You’ve made me look crazy atop being a weirdo.”
“You don’t need my help looking crazy,” Walter said. He stood and stretched, his corpse popping and cracking like a dry log tossed onto a wild fire. “Oof. Murder is murder on the back. Hey, Eightball, did you hear what I did there?”
“I heard.”
“Then why didn’t you laugh?”
Otto motioned around him, trying to remind Walter that no one else could see or hear the man, and every time Otto opened his trap around the ghost, he ended up looking like a complete loon.
“Fine,” Walter said. “Be like that. I’m tired of you anyways. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Where are you going?” Otto whispered.
“Don’t worry, I won’t go far. I’m just gonna wander about a bit and see what the other passengers are up to. Something tells me not being seen will come in handy with this crowd.” Walter leaned down to Otto to add in a low voice, as if anyone else could hear him, “You can’t imagine what folks get up to when they think no one is watching.”
“I’m afraid I can,” Otto said as Walter wandered off.
Otto downed the last of his martini and decided he better put some food behind it, lest the alcohol dull his senses. Considering he had almost a million of a mobster’s money, he needed all the sense he could get. He bellied up to the buffet only to frown at the Mexican themed selection. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Mexican food; he thought it was both colorful and flavorful. His ulcers, however, thought it was poisonous and deadly. Otto gave a soft sigh and picked across the buffet, looking for the mildest dishes offered.
After he filled his plate with what amounted to a small hill of beans, Otto returned to his table and made himself comfortable again. He ate, and drank his second martini of the night, pondering the possibility of calling for room service should he get hungry later. He wondered if they charged extra for such things, and if so, did they add it to your bill or did you pay as you went? Otto hoped for the latter, because he was beginning to run out of small bills. It wouldn’t do to pay for a pizza with a hundred dollar bill. Though, he supposed, the staff might be used to such things.
Through his haze of bean flavored thoughts, Otto heard someone ask, “Mr. Waldorf?”
Looking up from his plate, Otto recognized the security guard from earlier that morning. “Officer Jones. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Robinson wanted me to give you this.” The man flipped out a key fob at Otto.
“The cruise director?”
“Yes sir.” Jones waggled the fob. “This is the key for your mutt’s pen.”
Otto took the key cautiously, a lump of worry rising to his throat. “Is Finster okay?”
“Who is Finster?”
“My dog.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jones gave a nervous laugh. He seemed even more on edge than Otto, which was saying a lot.
“So?” Otto said. “Is he okay?”
“Who?” Jones said.
“My dog?”
“Ah, yes. Yes, he is fine. And you can see him if you want. Your dog, I mean. You can see your dog. Tonight. Maybe?” Jones grinned far too wide and nodded.
Otto nodded with the man. “Okay. I’ll see him tonight.”
“Soon?”
“When I’m done eating.”
Jones let out a breath that sounded a lot like a sigh of relief. He checked his watch and nodded. “Good. That’s great. Don’t forget. Right after you eat, okay?”
“Okay.” Otto shook the key at the man. “Thanks again.”
Jones bounded away, looking quite pleased with himself.
“What a strange, strange person,” Otto said.
“Did you just call me strange, sugar?” someone said.
Otto swallowed his embarrassment and turned to deal with the speaker, and came face to face with a blonde angel.
Like most men, Otto often found his eyes drawn to a woman’s body when meeting her for the first time. Or tenth time. In this case, there was plenty of body to draw the eye, but thanks to body’s owner leaning over the table, Otto’s gaze landed straight onto a pair of bright green eyes. Those eyes blinked a few times, the lids fluttering like Otto’s nervous stomach. Otto leaned back a bit to casually take in the whole package, and almost dropped his jaw at the view beyond the eyes.
She possessed what Uncle Walter referred to as an “all day” figure; that classic hourglass shape, with breasts and hips so plump they clocked twenty-four hours, maybe more. Her buxom bosom threatened to burst from her skin tight red dress. Otto found himself aroused by the prospect of such a mishap, almost hoping for it to occur. So much bountiful flesh. So many delicious curves. Otto had always been drawn towards thicker ladies, yet somehow ended up with a waif for a wife. This Rubenesque beauty was no waif. She was all woman, and then so
me. And then some more.
With nothing better to do or say, Otto smiled.
She smiled in return, a wide, almost forced grin. “Well, did you call me strange or not?” Her voice bore that deep southern twang more common to the hills of the Carolinas, rather than the coast.
“No,” Otto said. “I didn’t. Why would I?”
“I’m sorry. I was walking past and I thought I heard you speaking to me.”
“I was talking to myself. I do that sometimes.” Otto could’ve bitten his tongue in two. Why did he always say such stupid things around women? To his surprise, she didn’t excuse herself and take off in a screaming run.
She giggled.
The sweet sound of it ignited a fire of passion in Otto’s soul.
“I thought I was the only one that did that,” she said. She pulled the now empty seat away from the table and pointed to it. “Mind if I sit here? I hate to ask, but there isn’t another table free.”
Otto furrowed his brow and leaned back to get a better view of a half dozen empty tables. He looked back to her, to that bright smile, and wondered how many screws the woman had loose. “I suppose so. If you don’t mind the company.”
“Mind it? Why, I’m looking forward to it, sugar.”
She pulled the chair around to his side of the table and sat beside him—so very near to him rather than across from him or far, far away from him—and it dawned on Otto that she was flirting with him. A woman was flirting with Octavious Waldorf. A beautiful, blonde, voluptuous woman that smelled of strawberries and wine. There was only one thing he could do in response.
Panic.
“I, uh, I,” Otto stammered.
“Yes?” she said.
“I, uh, I … I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I’m not very good at small talk.”
“Then don’t say anything at all,” the woman said. “That’s why they call it small talk. It can go as small as you like. And sometimes I find folks are better company if they shut up from time to time. Don’t you?”
Otto laughed aloud. He couldn’t help it. Her candor was too adorable.
“I love to see a man laugh,” she said. “People don’t laugh enough these days.”
“They certainly don’t,” Otto said. He offered her his hand. “Octavious Waldorf. You can call me Otto if you like.”
“Otto it is.” She took him up on the offer of a handshake. Instead of a weak, delicate pawing, she scooped up his hand and shook it with a strong grip. “Penelope Lane. You can call me Penny. Everyone does.”
Otto tipped his head to one side at the sound of her name. “Your name is Penny
Lane? Like the song?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said as she relinquished his hand. “My daddy’s idea of a joke, I’m afraid. Most folks don’t get it, though every once in a while someone clever comes along.”
Clever? Otto had never been called clever by a woman. He had never been called clever by anyone. “Oh I’m not clever. I just have good taste in music.”
“Yes you do.”
“You have to admit, it’s an original name.”
“Are you kidding? If it was original, I wouldn’t be named after something that was named after something else, would I?”
She chuckled again, and while Otto nodded, he couldn’t help feeling silly for saying something so stupid. Especially after she had called him clever. She didn’t seem to mind his stupid comment, however. It didn’t drive her away or leave her staring blankly at him in total silence. She laughed, warmly, and even tucked her hair behind her ear. Wasn’t that some kind of subconscious sign of sexual attraction? Otto couldn’t remember. Without warning, all the years of reading dating advice columns and lonely hearts websites abandoned him, leaving Otto without guidance.
“What brings you out on international waters?” she said.
“A ship,” Otto said, without thinking about what she was asking.
Before he could apologize for another stupid statement, she laughed once more, this time touching his elbow when she giggled. Otto was sure he remembered reading somewhere that the elbow move was important.
“You are such a hoot,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I met anyone with a half decent sense of humor.”
“That’s me, half decent all over.”
“Really?” She leaned in closer to ask, “Which half is the indecent part?”
Otto face went hot with embarrassment. “Oh, my. That isn’t what I meant. I’m so sorry. That was rude of–”
“Not at all,” she interrupted. She covered his hand with hers, giving it a soft squeeze. “Nothing wrong with a little indecency now and again.”
Otto laughed with her this time, relaxing a bit as she continued to squeeze his hand. Something about her touch set him at ease. He couldn’t explain it. He knew it wasn’t love, because he had been in love once before, with Miriam, and this was nothing like that. Besides, this woman was a complete stranger. Love involved getting to know someone.
“So,” she said, “is there a Mrs. Waldorf?”
“Yes,” Otto said. “We’re divorced though.”
She shook her head, laughing softly.
“I can’t take credit for that one,” he said. “I learned how to talk to women from watching too many Cary Grant films.”
“He’s a great mentor.”
“Yes. Though I learned how to deal with women from Woody Allen. Which means while I talk a good game, I’m too neurotic to follow through.”
Penny chuckled. “You’re pretty funny, you know that?”
“I’ve been told. Usually the word funny is usually followed with ‘looking’ or ‘acting’ or ‘smelling’.”
“Speaking of talking to women, how did you do today?”
Otto shrugged, unsure what she was asking.
“Have you hooked up with anyone yet?” she said “Or are you still looking? Because I’m still looking.” She squeezed his hand much harder.
Otto recoiled at the question. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt about it. It was still the first day, for Pete’s sake. Certainly folks didn’t “hook up” quite that fast. Did they?
“Ah,” she said. She lost her smile and released his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought with this being a singles’ cruise, you were looking for … I’ll leave you alone.” She stood to do just that.
“Don’t leave me alone,” Otto blurted out. He winced at the sound of the desperation in his own voice. “I meant, don’t go. You weren’t being rude. I’m a bit rusty at this kind of thing. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the dating scene.”
“Is this your first singles’ cruise?”
“Yes. Is it that obvious?”
“I know you aren’t asking for help, but can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Oh, yes please.”
Penny took her seat again, that grandiose smile returning. “These trips only last a few days, hon, so things move a bit faster than the normal dating scene. Flirting rushes into come-ons really quickly. In fact, most of the folks here are just looking for some action and nothing more.” She leaned in close again. “So don’t be surprised when a lady asks what your cabin number is even before she asks for your name.”
The smell of strawberries pricked Otto’s nose once more, and he breathed her in as deeply as he could. Inhaling her glorious scent, it struck him that Penny had left a conversational window wide open. Otto considered his choices; he could either close said window, peep into it, or flat out crawl through the thing. With his divorce ten years behind him, he supposed he had spent far too long closing such windows. And while he didn’t mind being thought of as a peeping Tom to keep folks off his back, perhaps it was time to do more than just look. No, it was time to do more than merely window shop. It was time to pick up a little something for himself.
“Four,” he blurted out.
“Four?” she said.
“My cabin number. It’s four. Upper deck. First class.”
“First class? Ain’t you fancy?
”
“Too fancy. I wanted something less conspicuous, but it’s all they had left. My uncle say’s it’s a waste of money.”
“Uncle, you say?” She looked around the dining room, as if searching for someone. “Is he traveling with you?”
“Yes,” Otto said before he could catch himself.
“Yes?”
“Well, no?”
“Which is it? Yes or no?”
“He is, yet he isn’t. Two single guys on a singles’ cruise together? Don’t be silly. We are just two single guys who happen to know each other on a cruise not together.”
“Ah, I think I see. So, I take it he isn’t sharing a room with you, is he?”
“Oh, no. No, he has his own room. Somewhere else. Far, far away. Somewhere that isn’t my room. With just me. Alone. In my room.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Otto grinned.
“Sure, you know what they say. Two is company, but three costs extra.”
The air filled with her tinkling laugh again, and Otto couldn’t help join her. He laughed and laughed, not sure he got her joke yet riding the wave of her good humor nonetheless. Otto’s laughter choked short when he caught site of Walter rushing into the dining room.
“Speak of the devil,” Otto whispered.
“And his imp shall appear,” Penny said. She looked in the direction Otto was staring. “Is he here?”
“No, he isn’t. You were telling me about these cruises. Do you take them often?”
“Well, I won’t lie. This isn’t my first one. I think this is my fifth.”
“Really? Which did you like the best?”
While Penny described her history of cruises, Otto tried his best to shrink, hoping Walter wouldn’t remember where they were seated. But no, the ghost spied Otto straight away and headed right for him.
“We gotta split, Eightball,” Walter said over Penny’s casual conversation the moment he reached the table.
Otto cleared his throat and nodded to Penny, hoping the spirit would get the idea.