“Thanks for the advice. I’ll tell her what you said. What should she do in the meantime?”
“Watch her back to make sure no one’s trying to stick a knife in it.”
* * *
Amy marveled along with the rest of the crowd as tonight’s featured artists went through their paces. The Fallen Angels were acrobats whose feats of aerial wizardry were made even more breathtaking by the fact that they often performed in the nude. Their only adornments were the oversized wings they removed after they took the stage and the fine sheen of sweat that coated their sculpted bodies as they performed.
Amy had watched every awe-inspiring minute of their first show and treated herself to part of the second before she headed to the cruise director’s office so she could prepare for tomorrow morning’s staff meeting. She looked up when she heard someone tap on the half-open door.
“Hey, Bree. What’s up?”
“Wrong one. Try again.”
Amy noticed the flower in her visitor’s hair was positioned behind her left ear instead of her right. “Oops. Sorry about that, Leanna.”
“I’ve had twenty-seven years of practice. Believe me, I’ve gotten used to it by now. May I talk to you for a second?”
Amy set her notes aside so she could give Leanna her full attention. “Is this about Bree?”
Leanna took a seat in the cushioned chair in front of the desk. “Were she and Jessica on the outs again? If so, they must have patched things up. When I talked to her this afternoon, she sounded like they were practically engaged.”
Relieved she hadn’t betrayed Breanna’s confidence, Amy blew out a sigh. “I was starting to wonder if they would ever get their collective act together. I’m glad to hear they’ve worked things out. How are things going with you? We don’t see each other much outside the office.”
Leanna grinned. “That’s because you keep me so busy while we’re in the office. There’s only so much of you I can take.”
“Whatever. What did you want to talk about?”
“I have a question about tomorrow’s program.”
“The cooking demo? Before you ask, yes, all the samples will be gluten-free, and there won’t be any peanuts involved in case anyone’s allergic.”
“Good to hear, but that’s not what I wanted to ask. One of my Wahines wants to propose to her girlfriend, and she wants to do it during the cooking demo.”
“Why then?”
“She says her girlfriend’s kind of a drama queen so she wanted to come up with a suitably dramatic gesture when she pops the question. Do you think Griffin would mind if we take up part of her time? I don’t want to get in the way of her doing her thing. If she doesn’t want to share the spotlight, we can try to come up with something else. But if she’s amenable, we can add the proposal into her performance somehow. Perhaps she could ask the drama queen to be her sous chef and hand the mike over to her during the question-and-answer session.”
“The demo’s scheduled to last an hour. Griffin has a no-bake dessert planned. I can’t think of a reason why she’d object to devoting part of her time to something other than meal prep.”
“The last celebrity chef we booked for a cruise was a bit of a diva. We weren’t allowed to have any input on her presentation, and her contract rider was longer than Mariah Carey’s.”
“True, but Griffin’s a lot more down-to-earth than that. Even though she won one of the most prestigious cooking competitions on TV and her restaurants make money hand over fist, she’s not prone to making all sorts of ridiculous demands just because she can. I’ll talk to her tonight, see what she says, and try to have an answer for you by tomorrow morning. That way, we’ll have plenty of time to brainstorm in case we have to come up with plan B. We’ve had dozens of commitment ceremonies. Have we ever had an actual proposal before?”
Leanna thought for a minute. “No, I think this is our first one.”
“Then let’s make sure we get it right. For better or worse, we’re going to be part of this couple’s story for the rest of their lives.”
“I’m aiming for better.”
“So am I.”
And one day, perhaps she would eventually be asked to say, “I do,” instead of making it possible for someone else.
Day Six
Spencer made her way to the promenade deck twenty minutes before the cooking demonstration was scheduled to begin so she could reserve a section of seats for her, Finn, Luisa, Tatum, Jordan, Raq, and Bathsheba. She wouldn’t have to find places for Hannah and Maneet because they, along with Bonnie, had signed up for the poker tournament currently taking place in the casino one floor above. If the poker tournament lasted as long as the ones she watched on TV from time to time, Spencer would be able to head to the upper promenade deck after the cooking demo ended. Then she could spend the rest of the afternoon watching Hannah and Maneet compete—and finally lay eyes on the elusive Bonnie. After five days of missed connections, she was looking forward to finally being able to put a face with a name.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t go bust in the first hour. Otherwise, I might be telling her good-bye before we’ve even had a chance to say hello.”
She walked through the double doors and scanned the room. The culinary arts center was stocked with so much state-of-the-art equipment it could have doubled as the kitchen of a professional restaurant. A large workstation divided the food preparation area from the rest of the room, which featured enough seats to accommodate around two hundred people. Most of those seats, unfortunately, were already spoken for. A few empty ones remained here and there, but not enough to accommodate Spencer’s entire group. The rest of the seats were either already occupied or marked with laminated Reserved signs.
“The next time we do this,” she said when Finn, Luisa, Tatum, Jordan, Bathsheba, and Raq finally showed up, “someone’s going to have to volunteer to camp out the night before. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to sit together.”
Jordan stepped back to remove herself from consideration. “Don’t look at me. I plan on sleeping in as long and as often as I can. This week is the first time in years I haven’t been forced to share a bed with an eighty-pound German shepherd. I’m enjoying not having to hug the edge of the mattress or twist myself into a pretzel every night.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tatum said. “I’ve got us covered. Give me a sec.” She conferred with an SOS Tours staffer for a minute or two, then beckoned everyone to follow when the staffer began to lead them to the front row.
“How did you manage this?” Jordan asked as she settled into one of the seven reserved seats.
Tatum grinned. “The war hero angle gets them every time. It worked on you, didn’t it?”
“Not right away. I had to see you in uniform before I was truly convinced.” Jordan leaned over and gave Tatum a kiss. “Nice job on the seats, though.”
“I do what I can.”
Raq and Luisa began a whispered conversation. Spencer couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked much too serious to be discussing dessert and cocktail pairings, the topic of today’s demonstration. Bathsheba let them talk for a few minutes before she finally stepped in. “Break it up, you two. You’re supposed to be on vacation, not talking shop.”
“What’s going on?” Finn asked.
“Nothing to worry about,” Luisa said.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Seeming to realize she couldn’t get away with giving Finn such a pat answer, Luisa sighed and said, “Raq and I had a conversation last night with Jessica, one of the fitness trainers.”
“She teaches the spin class I’ve been attending,” Tatum said. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”
“I’m not sure,” Luisa said. “She said she had a friend who needs help getting out of a difficult situation, but Raq and I both think she was asking questions on her own behalf, not someone else’s. I was just asking Raq if she thinks we should talk to her again to see if she changes her story.”
“I
think she’s ready to flip on whoever’s got her under their thumb,” Raq said. “She just needs someone to talk to. Someone she trusts.”
“Someone like you?” Bathsheba asked.
“I made a connection with her the day after we got here. She and Luisa bonded a little last night. Maybe we can use the relationships we’ve formed with her to—”
“Don’t,” Finn said forcefully. She sounded scared rather than angry. “Bathsheba’s right. We’re on vacation. Leave the work stuff at home.” She turned to Luísa. “This trip was supposed to put what happened in Cancún behind us. I don’t want to dredge up those emotions again. I don’t want to risk losing you again. I know it’s your job to put your life on the line every day, but you’re not on the job right now.” She fingered her necklace, a misshapen bullet dangling from a chain. The bullet had been dug from Luisa’s Kevlar vest after Javier Villalobos fired a round at her during the fatal gun battle that had claimed his life and had nearly claimed Luisa’s as well. “I call you super cop for a reason. You’re willing to take risks no one else will.”
“That was before I met you,” Luisa said. “I’m much more careful now.”
“Then let someone else take the risk this time. There’s probably nothing going on, but what if there is? If you go looking for trouble, you’re sure to find it.”
“Sometimes, you don’t have to go looking,” Bathsheba said. “Sometimes, trouble finds you.”
“Hey,” Finn said, “I thought you were on my side.”
“Even off-duty, a cop can’t turn off her instincts,” Bathsheba said. “At the moment, though, none of us are in position to do something about it. If you think something’s up, babe, tell the ship’s security team so they can look into it. Don’t get mixed up in it yourself.”
“I don’t want Jessica to get scared and clam up,” Raq said. “Then she’ll be even worse off than she is now. Let me take one more run at her before I bring someone else into it. Finn’s right. Luisa and I might be overreacting. But if we’re not, I want to do whatever I can to help. She’s good people. She got into something she didn’t expect, now she’s stuck.”
“What do you think she’s into?” Spencer asked.
“Money laundering or drug smuggling, most likely,” Luisa said. “Maybe even a bit of low-level dealing. The ships she’s assigned to visit dozens of international ports each year and are filled with thousands of potential customers. Cartels would pay dearly to have someone like her on the inside.”
“Like that flight attendant who got caught smuggling sixty pounds of cocaine into LAX and hauled ass without the Gucci shoes and designer luggage she left behind,” Raq said.
“I remember that,” Bathsheba said. “She took off like she was a member of the Jamaican sprint team.”
“Jessica might be doing something along the same lines,” Luisa said. “Bringing the product in and handing it over to someone else to sell. She probably only deals with one or two people and doesn’t even know who she’s working for.”
Raq picked up on Luisa’s train of thought. “But if we follow the money until we reach its source, we can find out who the top dog is and take that person down.”
“This is starting to sound a little too familiar,” Finn said.
Bathsheba nodded in agreement. “To me, too. Do what you have to do, Raq. Just be careful. You know better than I do that when people get backed into a corner, they tend to come out fighting.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a strong chin.”
Rubbing her hands together, Jordan steered the conversation in a decidedly less serious direction. “Is everyone looking forward to this as much as I am?”
“I don’t think anyone is looking forward to this as much as you are,” Tatum said with a laugh. “You’re such a chocoholic, I’m surprised your blood type isn’t cocoa.”
“You could coat anything in a layer of chocolate and I’d eat it,” Jordan said. “Strawberries, pretzels, crickets. Even liver. I don’t care. “
“You had me until you mentioned crickets, but I know what you mean,” Bathsheba said. “I draw the line at chocolate-flavored wine, though. Chocolate and wine are two things I enjoy together, but not in the same glass.”
“I bought a bottle on a whim once,” Jordan said.
“And how was it?” Bathsheba asked.
Jordan wrinkled her nose. “Thick.”
“Exactly my point.”
The chocolate-themed conversation reminded Spencer of Amy and her aversion to the treat Jordan seemed to love so much. Spencer still remembered the feel of Amy in her arms. The taste of her on her lips.
The kiss they had shared yesterday had been amazing but bittersweet. Amazing because it was the best kiss Spencer had ever received. Bittersweet because Amy had kissed her in order to convince a pair of total strangers that they were a couple when odds were they would never actually become one. Not as long as Amy was willing to bend the rules but not break them.
The next time you kiss me, Spencer had told her as they prepared to return to port, do it because you want to, not because someone might be watching.
She wondered if that time would ever come. She hadn’t seen Amy except from a distance since they boarded the ship after their trip to Loterie Farm. Was Amy using the time apart to try to figure out how to respond to the edict Spencer had given her, or was her absence the only answer Spencer needed?
Spencer turned to the group rather than continuing to dwell on a problem she couldn’t solve on her own. “Who knows? Chocolate might not even be on the menu today. The theme is dessert and cocktail pairings. That could be anything.”
“Well,” Jordan said when the house lights dimmed, “we’re about to find out.”
* * *
Amy felt uncharacteristically anxious. She had addressed much larger crowds than this one with no qualms. Today, though, she was a bundle of nerves. She wondered if the brides-to-be were equally on edge. One was completely clueless about what was about to happen. The other was all too aware.
Amy practiced reciting Griffin Sutton’s bio one last time. She needed to get the rhythm of the words down so she wouldn’t stumble over any of them when she kicked off today’s demonstration. She wanted today to be perfect from beginning to end. One way or another, today was a day to be remembered.
“Let’s make sure it’s for the right reasons.”
When she was done practicing her lines, she strode over to Griffin, the Newport Beach-based chef who would be headlining today’s demonstration. Even though Griffin was conversing with her wife, Rachel, she kept a close eye on her team of assistants to make sure the desserts she had prepared earlier and planned to serve to the audience later were being kept sufficiently chilled.
Amy knew from experience that nothing ruined a good time faster than bad dairy. During a trip to the Mexican Riviera, dozens of guests had contracted food poisoning after ordering strawberry cheesecake that had been accidentally allowed to reach room temperature. Amy was glad to see Griffin was taking all the necessary precautions to ensure her food was being handled properly. SOS couldn’t afford a repeat of the previous debacle.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Amy said. “I wanted to check in with you one more time to make sure you don’t mind the changes we’ve made to today’s program.”
Griffin was wearing black motorcycle boots and tight jeans with frayed hems. A faded concert T-shirt with a picture of Florence Welch on the front peeked through her unbuttoned chef’s coat. “Today is supposed to be about the sexy side of food. I can’t think of anything sexier than love, can you?”
“Nothing immediately comes to mind.”
Rachel had been scheduled to act as Griffin’s sous chef today until Amy and Leanna altered the script. Thankfully, she seemed to be taking the demotion in stride.
“I’m crushed about not being able to take my turn in the spotlight,” Rachel said with a smile, “but I get to go home with the chef so I think I’ll survive. Knock ’em dead, babe.” She gav
e Griffin a kiss for luck, then left to take her seat in the audience.
Griffin’s flagship restaurant was in California, where she and her family lived, but she had recently opened an establishment in New York City as well. Though both restaurants were wildly successful, Griffin didn’t seem to have the requisite oversized ego to show for it.
“Thank you again for agreeing to do this,” Amy said.
“It’s my pleasure.” Griffin adjusted her headset microphone and buttoned her chef’s coat, a crisply ironed maroon jacket with her name monogrammed on one side and her restaurant’s logo emblazoned on the other. “Let’s do this.”
The crowd applauded wildly when Amy stood on her mark in front of the workstation.
“Griffin Sutton looks like a surfer, dresses like a biker, and occasionally swears like a sailor, but please don’t let her mother know.”
The crowd’s warm welcome had caused some of Amy’s nerves to dissipate. When the opening line of her introduction drew a laugh, her nerves disappeared altogether.
“She has competed in and won the most prestigious cooking competition on television, Cream of the Crop, and her signature restaurant, the Sutton Family Café, is one of only a handful of establishments in southern California that has been awarded three Michelin stars. Its New York counterpart, SFC East, boasts a waiting list that’s longer than the run of some Broadway shows. If that’s not enough incentive to taste what she has in store for us today, I don’t know what is. Please welcome Griffin Sutton!”
Griffin bounded out of the backstage area with the energy of an unbridled colt. Eager to watch her work, Amy quickly exited the stage.
“Thank you for the flattering introduction, Amy. It’s a pleasure to be here and an honor to meet all of you. My wife and I have only been on board since yesterday, but everyone has made us feel right at home. Are all of you having as much fun as we are?”
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