Pleasure Cruise

by Yolanda Wallace

  “Doesn’t it get old after a while?” Amy asked as they examined their respective menus. “In my job, there’s always a new resort, cruise ship, or excursion to explore. There’s only so much you can do with a bunch of zeroes and ones.”

  Spencer set her menu down. “Gender isn’t binary, and neither is coding.” Her eyes burned with an intensity that belied the gentle tone of her voice. “Computer programs are more than a bunch of random letters, numbers, and symbols. For me, reading a complex program is just as enjoyable as reading a classic piece of literature. When a program’s written well, it can be like poetry.”

  “I believe you.” Amy thought Maya Angelou, Emily Dickinson, or Robert Frost might beg to differ, but she found it hard to refute Spencer’s argument when she could see how passionate Spencer was about the subject.

  A member of the wait staff ventured to the table to take their drink orders. Spencer ordered a glass of white wine, while Amy settled for a glass of sparkling water. She would kill for a glass of champagne, but she couldn’t drink anything alcoholic for a few more hours. Her workday wouldn’t end until after the second of tonight’s two scheduled shows. When that finally happened, she might eschew the glass and drink straight from the bottle. Today was the first of many long days to come. She could only hope the days that followed would be as relatively uneventful as this one. Aside from this afternoon’s false alarm, the rest of the day had been drama-free. Just the way she liked it.

  “Would you like to go ahead and order dinner, or do you need a few more minutes?” the waiter asked.

  Amy forced herself to turn her attention from Spencer to the eight women sharing the table with them. “I can’t stay long. I have to head back to work soon.”

  “At this time of night?” Spencer asked.

  “There are two shows scheduled for tonight. I have to make sure both go off without a hitch before I’ll be able to call it a day. In the meantime, why don’t we start with a round of appetizers for the table?”

  “Sounds good,” someone said. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

  Amy ordered a mix of light and heavy appetizers from the vast menu. The small snacks probably wouldn’t fill her up, but they should provide enough fuel to get her through the next few hours. Then she could grab something from the buffet before she crawled into bed and fell into an exhausted sleep or hit the disco to dance off what remained of her nervous energy. First days were always a challenge, and today certainly hadn’t disappointed. At least the guests seemed to be having fun. In the end, that was all that mattered.

  “When was the last time you had a real sit-down dinner?” Spencer asked after the waiter left.

  “A meal that involved more than a few pieces of shrimp and didn’t arrive in a cardboard or Styrofoam box? Longer than I care to remember.”

  “Then it sounds like we have something in common. I’m used to putting in long hours, especially when a project’s due.” Spencer spread her arms. “I have to say, though, that the view from my office isn’t usually this nice.”

  “It’s addictive, right?” one of the women at the table said. Her name was Sheila Ford, and she was a tax attorney from Cincinnati. Amy recognized her and her wife from past trips. “That’s why Mavis and I wouldn’t dream of traveling any other way. We spend all of our vacations—and most of our disposable income—with SOS.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Mavis said, “we’ve already signed up for our next trip. We weren’t planning on going on another one so soon, but the deep discount for booking onsite is pretty hard to pass up.”

  “Awesome.” Amy loved repeat customers. They not only kept the company afloat, they helped cement its reputation. At the moment, SOS could use as much positive publicity and good word of mouth as it could get. “Which trip did you book?”

  “The luxury cruise to Tahiti. I’ve dreamed of going there since the first time I saw the series of paintings Paul Gauguin created while he lived on the island.”

  “She wants to frolic naked on the beach,” Sheila said. “I just want to sit around drinking something deceptively strong from a pineapple shell.”

  Amy took a sip of her mineral water. “I’m glad we could help you make one of your dreams come true.”

  “Are you going to be in charge of that trip, too?” Spencer asked.

  “I don’t know yet. It’s a long way off. We’ll see when the time comes.” The resort was incredible the first time she had visited it. She would love to make a return trip, but she would be equally grateful if the company was still in business by then. Her bosses kept telling her this trip wasn’t make-or-break, but she couldn’t stop feeling like the company’s future was riding on her shoulders. “How did the mixer go this afternoon?”

  Spencer’s face lit up. “It was awesome. I didn’t expect to enjoy myself, but I had a really good time.”

  Icebreaking events were usually hit or miss. They were either rousing successes or colossal failures. They didn’t often fall somewhere in between. Amy was glad to hear that the event Breanna planned had gone well. Surely that boded well for the rest of the week.

  “Did you win?” she asked as the waiter set three platters of steaming appetizers in the center of the table.

  Spencer began to fill her plate with some of the delectable dishes. “Hannah won the first round so fast we wouldn’t let her play again. I came close in the second game, but I lost by one square. I couldn’t find anyone who’s been to Coachella.”

  “I didn’t have as much fun there as I did at Burning Man,” Amy said, “but I’d still recommend it.”

  “See? I knew you should have stayed.”

  “Maybe next time. What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

  Spencer took a bite of her grilled shrimp. “Why? Do you want to pick my brain about that, too?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “That’s not really a fair tradeoff, is it? You asking all the questions while I get to have all the fun.”

  Amy shrugged. She and Breanna had scouted the trip well over a year in advance. She had already taken part in most of the excursions Spencer had yet to experience. She and Breanna had already formed their own opinions about the outings. She was eager to hear someone else’s. “I have to stay close to the ship this week to make sure nothing goes wrong. I have to live vicariously through someone. Why shouldn’t it be you?”

  “Because you might be bored to tears, that’s why. Have you considered that possibility?”

  Amy had considered many possibilities since she’d met Spencer Collins that afternoon, but being bored definitely wasn’t one of them. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  “Because I can’t trust the judgment of someone who hates chocolate.”

  Amy couldn’t help but laugh as Spencer returned to what was becoming a familiar refrain. “I’ll tell you what. If you have dinner with me every night this week, I will spend the last night of the trip eating every chocolate-themed confection you place in front of me.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Are you up for it?”

  Spencer leaned toward her. “I’m game. Are you?”

  Amy was more than ready to play, but would she be willing—or able—to stick to the rules?

  “Count me in.”

  Day Two

  Located on the promenade deck, the Illusion Lounge was the Majestic Dream’s main showroom. Instead of a concert or comedy show, the expansive space was currently serving as the venue for an informal question-and-answer session featuring retired tennis stars Laure Fortescue and Sinjin Smythe. Even though Spencer had made it a point to arrive early, space was hard to come by. All of the seats closest to the stage were already filled, as were many in the soaring balcony overhead.

  “There are a few seats left in the back of the room, if you don’t mind craning your neck to see over some of the heads in your way,” the SOS Tours staffer at the door said. “If you’d prefer to have an unobstructed view, you’d be better off heading up to
the balcony.”

  Spencer took a quick peek upstairs. A long line of women was steadily streaming down the aisles, guaranteeing that the seats that hadn’t yet been claimed wouldn’t remain that way for long.

  “A bird in the hand beats two in the bush,” she said to herself. “Down here’s fine.”

  “Cool,” the staffer said with a bright smile. The name tag pinned to her yellow polo shirt said her name was Sunny, an apt name given her cheerful disposition. She tore a small rectangular ticket off the large roll in her hand and handed it to Spencer. “Make sure you keep this in a safe place. At some point during the session, Amy’s going to give away a BOGO.”

  “What’s a BOGO?”

  “A buy one, get one free. My favorite shoe store has them all the time.”

  “So does my favorite grocery store, but I can’t imagine SOS doing something similar. Wouldn’t it cut into your profit margin?”

  “I’m no economics expert by any means, but I’d be willing to bet a booked room beats an empty one every time.”

  Spencer couldn’t argue with Sunny’s logic. “How many BOGOs do you do on average?”

  “Not many. They’re only a fraction of our overall business. We’ll probably give away four of five of them this week, and we send emails to chosen customers throughout the year as spaces become available. Before you ask me what the catch is, there isn’t one. Instead of being able to get two pairs of killer shoes or, to use your example, two bags of potato chips, for the price of one, whoever wins is able to book two passengers on a trip and pay for only one fare.” Sunny lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the trip Amy’s giving away today is a riverboat cruise from Montpellier to Monaco. The trip’s been listed on our website for only a few days, and the reservations are filling up fast. At this rate, most of the cabins are going be sold out. Not surprising, given the riverboat holds less than a hundred passengers.”

  “That sounds intimate. How long is the trip?”

  “Eight days and seven nights with a two-night stay in Marseille featuring dinner in an honest-to-God chateau. If you book the vacation stretcher, you can zip over to Barcelona and spend some time walking up and down Las Ramblas. It’s kind of touristy, but that just makes for better people-watching.”

  Spencer memorized the number on the front of her ticket before she slipped it into one of the many pockets on her cargo shorts. The trip sounded amazing. And expensive. But, hopefully, she wouldn’t have to pay full-price.

  She had never won a raffle in her life, but she desperately wanted to win today’s giveaway. Not for herself. A trip as romantic as this one sounded should be taken with someone you love, not by yourself. Or, even worse, with a friend who was gracious enough to tag along to keep you company. Woefully short of friends and lovers, Spencer longed for a chance to repay her parents’ generosity. Her mother loved French food, and her father adored James Bond. Her mother would be over the moon at the prospect of being able to have a multi-course meal in an historic chateau. Her father, meanwhile, had always longed to don a tux and play a few rounds of blackjack at the Casino Royale, the ritzy establishment that served as the primary locale for Ian Fleming’s first book featuring a certain globetrotting and bed-hopping spy. If she were able to give both of her parents what they wanted, she’d earn brownie points for life, freeing her up to look for love on her own schedule instead of someone else’s.

  “Good luck,” Sunny said.

  “Thanks.”

  Spencer took a seat in the back of the room. The stage was so far away it seemed like she and it were located on opposite ends of the ship. Not that she was complaining. Far from it. She felt giddy, and she hadn’t had even a single drop of wine from any of the dozen or so bottles lining the display table that had been placed behind the three director’s chairs in the center of the stage. She was excited about several things. The upcoming program and the chance to win a luxury vacation, naturally, but she was even more geeked at having a chance to see Amy again so soon after their laughter-filled evening the night before.

  Amy hadn’t mentioned she would be facilitating this morning’s Q and A session before they parted ways last night, so her presence today was an unexpected surprise. They had plans to meet for dinner tonight, but that was hours away. And even though the meal was work-related, it wasn’t the same as seeing Amy in action.

  Spencer liked watching people do their jobs, especially when they enjoyed their work as much as Amy seemed to. She liked her job, too, but the long hours she often put in occasionally made her feel like she was on the verge of burning out. The money was nice, but the stress level was often off the charts. She envied people like Amy who could work practically around the clock without losing their desire to show up and do it all over again the next day.

  Amy had many other attributes that were worthy of admiration as well, but Spencer was trying to ignore those. Trying and failing. She could still see Amy wearing that sexy little sundress she had been sporting last night. She could still feel Amy’s smooth skin beneath her fingers as she removed the price tag Amy had forgotten to discard. She wondered what kind of outfit Amy would wear tonight. Something casual but professional, or something even more alluring than that sundress?

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Spencer stopped daydreaming about fashion choices and looked up to find a gorgeous brunette pointing at the empty seat next to hers. The brunette, who appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, had soft brown eyes, a dazzling smile, and tawny skin that hinted at Latin American roots. “Not yet.”

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “No, please do.”

  “Thanks.” The brunette claimed the seat next to Spencer and stuck out her hand. Her wrist was adorned with a series of plastic, metal, and fabric bracelets that made her liberal political affiliations clear. One bracelet read Resist. Another sported the slogan Nevertheless, she persisted. A third read #notmypresident. A fourth said We the people means everyone. The rest of the bracelets were overlapped, preventing Spencer from seeing what they said, but she was pretty sure the wording on them was in the same vein. “I’m Jordan Gonzalez.”

  “Spencer Collins.”

  “Did you go to UGA?”

  Spencer glanced at the Georgia Bulldogs T-shirt she was wearing. The agenda said today was Spirit Day. Passengers were encouraged to wear clothes or accessories that indicated what town or state they called home. Spencer had opted to advertise her college roots instead of her hometown ones. UGA had much better name recognition than Pipkinville, allowing her to spend far less time explaining where she was from.

  She’d had a blast during her four years in Athens. She often wished she could go back. Not to the town but the time. She wanted to relive the sense of wonder, the sense of freedom she had experienced while she was on campus. Pipkinville was so small that everyone knew everyone else’s business. In Athens, where the population was exponentially larger, she had been able to be herself, not worry about living up or down to anyone’s expectations of her.

  She could have set down roots anywhere after graduation. Instead, she had chosen to return home. She was starting to wonder if she had made the right choice. She adored her family and she loved her job, but her personal life often felt like it was a weak-hulled ship on a collision course with an outcropping of especially nasty rocks. So far, the trip had done nothing to dispel that feeling. The women she had met the past couple of days had made her realize she had been going through the paces in her life, not truly living it. Would she be able to resume that sad existence when the ship returned to shore next week, or would she finally be able to accept the fact that it was time for her to make a change?

  “Yes, I did,” she said, answering Jordan’s question. “Did you go to—” Jordan’s shirt seemed to have been cobbled from three other ones. Spencer slowly sounded out the seemingly nonsensical word that had been created as a result. “Wi-kle-ga? Sorry, but I’m going to need a little help with that one.
”

  “No worries.” Jordan pointed to each panel of her shirt as she explained the meaning behind it. “I grew up in Wisconsin, I graduated from UC Berkeley, and I live in Georgia.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Jekyll Island. My girlfriend and I run the Remember When Inn, a hotel on the beach. Technically, she runs it since she’s the manager. I’m the marketing wiz behind the scenes.”

  “Wait. Are you talking about the place where the rooms are patterned after classic TV shows, and the employees dress up like the characters?”

  Jordan beamed. “The costumes were my idea.”

  “Talk about a small world. My parents stayed in your hotel for their thirtieth anniversary last year. My father wanted the M*A*S*H room, but my mother booked the I Dream of Jeannie one instead.”

  “That’s our most popular room. Circular beds tend to have a certain effect on people, if you catch my drift.”

  Spencer didn’t want to think about the acts her parents might have performed in that circular bed. As far as she was concerned, she was a product of Immaculate Conception and no one would be able to convince her otherwise. “Should we save a seat for your girlfriend?” she asked as she looked around the crowded room.

  “No, she signed up for a spin class, so she’s busy working up a sweat in the gym with a hot fitness pro who looks like Shane from The L Word.”

  Spencer noticed the frown lines furrowing Jordan’s brow. “Are you worried about your girlfriend or the hot fitness pro who looks like Katherine Moennig?”

  “I know I shouldn’t worry about Tatum, but I can’t help it.”

  “How long have you been together?”

  “Almost four years. My grandmother and I used to go on vacation together every summer. I met Tatum the year Grandma Meredith and I drove from Racine to Jekyll Island. Tatum and I fell for each other while Grandma Meredith was busy reconnecting with the love of her life, a former Army nurse she served with in Vietnam. Grandma Meredith and I must have similar taste in women because Tatum is the niece of the woman she fell for all those years ago.”