by Maggie Way
"For being hated," I insert.
He goes on as if I haven't spoken. "You have rediscovered your high school sweetheart." I start to correct that overly optimistic description, but instead decide to let him finish. "And you've had a night of mind-blowing sex with the super-hot magic man of your dreams."
I nod, admitting that what he has recapped is mostly accurate. "That's a whirlwind of wild activity, even in my crazy life."
"Ooh-whee!" he yells, despite our close proximity. "Can we trade bodies for a little while? I want to be you, Sweets."
I shake my head, grinning at this silly, kind-hearted man. He has somehow managed to make me feel better about the entire situation with the show. I have been focusing on all of the wrong things. So what if I looked bad on one episode? I can easily shift that perception and win over the world.
"I'm not the hateful, spoiled brat they made me look like on the show," I say aloud to Syd, feeling a sudden epiphany.
"Of course not." His brow furrows slightly as if the thought of me being bratty is ridiculous.
"I'm kind and thoughtful and loving," I add.
"You are indeed," Syd affirms.
"I just need that side of myself to be portrayed on the show," I decide. "Once the reality-television-watching portion of the world sees how I feel about Andrew, they'll realize that I'm worth rooting for. And everyone will love Andrew. How could they not?"
I raise my gaze up to Syd, who shrugs his shoulders as if to say he cannot imagine someone not loving Andrew.
"The audience is already behind Cam and Bellamy––Team CamBell. I just have to get the producers to add Andrew to the show, so we can let everyone see how great Team RuRew is!"
"Team RuRew...I love it!" Syd seems sincerely excited. "Go get 'em, Tiger."
Feeling fired up, I turn to open the door and put my plan into action. I'm almost to the hallway door when I hear Syd say, "Hey Babe, you might want to brush your teeth and change out of yesterday's dress before you take over the world."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Scrubbed clean, and in a fresh dress, I emerge from my room––now ready to win over the world. I head down to the lobby and sense that my luck is already turning around when I spot T.J. near the concierge desk.
I boldly walk over to him, prepared to justify my case and negotiate getting Andrew added to the show roster.
T.J.'s face lights up with fake enthusiasm at my arrival. "Ruthie, darling," he air kisses both of my cheeks.
"I need a favor," I tell him firmly, deciding that he owes me after the way he and his cohorts made me look on the show.
"Anything for you, my dear," the sarcasm is dripping from his voice.
How did I not see what a complete phony he is before? I wonder. It is amazing how the chance at fame had blinded me to the obvious.
"Someone from my past is on the ship, and I would like for him to be made a part of the show." The idea that Andrew might not want to be included on the show crosses my mind as the words exit my mouth, but I squelch that fear. He makes his living on stage, so the extra publicity would have to be good for him, right?
T.J. blinks a couple of times, pondering my request. "Well, if he's with you, he'll be a part of the show," he says logically. "We just need him to sign a waiver." He gestures to Jamie, who flips pages in her clipboard until she finds what she's looking for and hands the requested paper to me.
I nod and walk away before he changes his mind. That was much easier than I had expected. Now, I just need to convince Andrew that he should agree to be on the show.
Heading straight to his room, I knock on his door before I can chicken out. It takes him a bit to open it, and my breath is taken away as I gaze at him. His damp hair indicates that he is freshly showered, he's still shirtless, and he's handsome as sin.
"Hi," I breathe out, my other words having left me at the sight of him.
"You're back," he smiles before pulling me in for a crushing kiss. "I was afraid you had bolted and that last night was just an epic one-night stand."
That thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but I suppose waking up alone after our passion-filled night of rolling around his bed would make him wonder why I slipped out so quietly. I can't stop the joy from bubbling up over his use of the word 'epic' in reference to our phenomenal night. I felt that way about it, but the confirmation that it was fantastic for him too is life affirming.
He stands back to let me walk through the doorway, and I trail a hand along his taut abs on my way. He sucks in a breath at my light touch, and I am relieved to see that our lust for each other hasn't lessened in the slightest. The rumpled bed catches my eye, and I am tempted to rejoin him there, but the paper in my hand reminds me that I am on a mission.
The smell of bacon lures me out to the balcony, and I am pleased to find a nice room service spread on the tiny side table. I give him a questioning look over the sheer amount of food.
"I was hoping you would come back," he reveals, joining me outside.
I plop down on one of the chairs and swipe a slice of pineapple, but my face falls when I see the open laptop sitting on the other chair. My sister, Roxy's face is frozen on the screen. "You're watching the show?" My voice goes slightly higher at the end, although the question is rhetorical. I don't want him to get a bad impression of me, and I'm utterly embarrassed by the selfish air the show portrays me in.
"I wanted to see what we are dealing with here." He closes the laptop and sets it inside before rejoining me on the balcony.
I am beyond touched that he has referenced what 'we' are dealing with. It makes me feel like he and I are already a team.
Deciding to be completely upfront, I hold the paper out towards him. "I'd like for you to be on the show."
He doesn't take too long to contemplate his decision. "Anything for you," he says as he gets up and takes the paper inside to scrawl his signature.
I just hope he doesn't grow to feel like he has just signed his life away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We are now anchored at a tiny, quaint island in the Bahamas, so Andrew and I decide to take advantage of the opportunity to walk around the port. Glancing back at the ship, I am once more astounded by its sheer size. The massive monstrosity dwarfs everything else on or near the island. It makes me wonder about the logistics and equipment required to dig the deep trench that permits big cruise liners entry to the port.
As we walk along the boardwalk towards the shore, I'm surprised to find that I almost feel like the ground beneath me is moving. When I mention the odd sensation to Andrew, he smiles down at me, "You already have your sea legs."
"Umm, great...I guess." I mutter, wrinkling my nose, not at all sure that this is a good thing.
Upbeat Reggae music is being pumped through evenly spaced speakers along our path. The fun tunes make it difficult to stress about anything. Andrew takes my hand and swings me around as our steps begin naturally falling in time to the music. Jake, evidently the cameraman who has been assigned to cover our island excursion, seems to have no trouble walking backwards to capture every moment. I'm in awe of his grace, considering that I would probably fall over my own feet if I attempted such a maneuver.
I am relieved when Andrew mentions that he is doing another shipboard show later this week, meaning he will not be flying home from the island as I had initially feared. When the relaxing and familiar song, "Don't worry, be happy" begins playing, I decide to truly take it to heart and let my troubles melt away.
The pastel colors of the tiny beachside shops are eye-catching and there is a plethora of tiny straw huts with natives selling wares to the tourists from the ship. I have the feeling that the little island comes alive with boisterous activity when a cruise ship filled with people arrives at the dock. The locals probably enjoy the chance to make extra money, but still likely breathe a sigh of relief as the ship sails away leaving them alone on their peaceful slice of paradise.
There is a warm breeze blowing off the ocean that helps ease the
heat from the intense sunshine. I am thankful for the gauzy cover-up that Syd presented me with this morning to protect my tender skin from further burning. I'm also wearing the enormous sunglasses the waiter purchased for me.
Stopping at a shopping hut, Andrew purchases me a huge, floppy straw hat with a purple ribbon to provide me further protection from the sun. It perfectly completes my gaudy tourist ensemble.
We spend the entire day shopping, walking along the white sandy beach, splashing in the warm turquoise water, attempting to sneak away from Jake to make-out, failing at giving Jake the slip but making out anyway, eating fresh seafood, looking for shells, and having the absolute best time of my life. I don't want this glorious day to ever end.
Before heading back to board the ship, we decide to make a quick stop at a shaded hut to sit in high-backed chairs and sip Rum Runners from hollowed-out coconuts. Andrew generously buys one of the icy beverages for our videographer, Jake, so our stalker-for-the-day actually gives us some space and sets down the camera to enjoy it.
I take advantage of the off-camera time to gush a little bit. "This day has been absolutely phenomenal!"
"The best," Andrew agrees, nodding before picking up his coconut. He slides the straw into his lips and makes a silly, puckered sucking face as he draws the delicious icy coolness up to his mouth.
I laugh with him before turning serious. "You are even better than I imagined, and I already figured you were pretty fantastic," I tell him honestly.
"How did I ever let you get away?" he asks, rubbing the back of his finger along my cheek.
I lean into his touch, happier than I ever remember being. Despite knowing that this relationship has been a complete whirlwind, I am unable to keep the hope at bay––maybe, just maybe, I have finally found my happy ending.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The ship gives a loud, warning blare of its horn. Andrew, Jake, and I share a panicked look. We all go from slumping, lazily relaxed in our seats to bolting upright––our eyes bulging in similar looks of alarm.
"Does that mean...?"
I don't bother to finish the question because Jake is already grabbing his camera and making a run for it. "I guess so," Andrew responds, even as he throws money onto the table, waves to the bartender, grabs my hand, and hightails it out towards the pier.
I am wearing high-heeled sandals, so I have to take tiny steps. My legs get in three strides to each one of Andrew's. The shuffle-scurry I am attempting has to look ridiculous, so I'm relieved that Jake is in too big of a hurry to film us. I just hope there aren't any cameramen on the top decks of the ship capturing our tardiness.
"Wait, please wait!" I yell even as I see the aft of giant ship easing away from the dock. We run to the end of the wooden platform, but it is of no use. The ship sails smoothly past the end of it and out towards the open ocean. It clearly isn't going to turn around for us.
"Well, crap...now what?" I turn to the stunned men standing next to me. They are both giving me wide-eyed questioning looks as if they expect me to know what to do.
Eventually, Jake pulls out his cell phone to make a call––presumably to one of the producers of the show. He walks away from us, back towards the pier entry, likely craving some privacy to blame our missing the ship fiasco on Andrew and me.
I notice for the first time a young man fishing off the end of the pier. Deciding that he must be a native to the island, I ask him about the possibility of finding a hotel room for the night. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, making me think we might be out of luck.
The realization that our passports and other valuables just sailed away on the ship begins to make me feel slightly panicked. We only have with us what we needed for a day at the beach, not supplies for an overnight (or longer) island stay. "We have to get back on that ship," I mumble, thinking out loud.
"You can try the Pilot," the teenaged fisherman informs me, "but Cap'n ain't gonna be happy." He raises his arm indicating the small black boat with white lettering spelling "Pilot" that is alongside the cruise ship.
"The Pilot, of course!" I feel like kissing the young man, but sense that wouldn't be appropriate. We watch in the distance as the Pilot's captain, who has guided the massive cruise vessel out to sea, steps back onto his own much smaller boat before its return to the dock.
I lick my lips nervously as we watch the crew of the pilot boat work to secure the ropes to the pier. "Hi, there!" I give a friendly shout, wiggling my fingers in what I hope is a flirtatious gesture. My uneasiness kicks up a notch when I realize that Jake has ended his phone call and rejoined us with his camera rolling to capture this entire exchange.
The gruff, crusty captain doesn't acknowledge me, but I will not be deterred. "We were hoping you might be willing to help us out." The grouchy, white bearded man still gives no outward signs that he even hears me, but I forge on. "You see, we missed our ship," I start.
At this, he crosses his arms to rest over his plump belly and gives me a weary look. He doesn't utter a word out loud, but his nonverbal communication is screaming, I've heard it numerous times before, Lady, and I don't care! His stance indicates that he is clearly annoyed, but I can't back down. We need to get back on the ship.
Evidently deciding that cash is king, Andrew retrieves several bills from his wallet and holds them up in an attempt to tempt the captain into giving us a ride. This earns him a disdainful sneer from the man, who is clearly unimpressed with the bribe.
I'm not overly hopeful that it will work, but I am desperate for his help, so I try mentioning the show. "I'm filming a television show on the ship," I raise a hand towards Jake as verified proof that what I am saying is true, "and we really need to catch up to them."
He raises his eyes to mine, but they are bereft of any concern for our predicament. His cool glare indicates that nothing I can say will convince him to give us a ride out to our sailing away ship.
Seeming to decide that the television angle is our best bet, Andrew jumps in. "Yes, we are both on the show now, actually. It's called Cruising for Love, and you can watch it online."
I almost chuckle at his desperate attempt to win over the grumpy man, who clearly wouldn't have any interest in watching our cheesy reality tv show. I nearly fall over in surprise when he squints up at us for a closer look. "Ruthie?" he finally asks.
Amazed that he would have even seen the show, let alone know my name, I nod in answer. "Where's Cameron?" he asks me after giving Andrew the once-over.
"Probably with Bellamy," I answer flippantly.
"Team CameRu isn't going to work out?" His face looks crestfallen, as if we have just told him someone he cares about is critically ill. I shake my head, shocked that this man––who doesn't appear at all to be our target audience––is a fan of the show.
He seems to mull over my revelation for a moment before asking, "Are he and that hot red-head really an item?" Before I can answer, he covers his ears with his palms. "Wait...Don't tell me. I don't want to ruin it. I'll just watch the show."
He reaches out a hand to help me on board his boat, and shoos away the money Andrew offers as he climbs aboard, followed by Jake. "We are so looking forward to the next episode of the show. Wait till I tell the wife I met you." He is practically giddy with excitement––a complete about-face from the previous staid grump he appeared to be just seconds ago.
After radioing the cruise ship that we are on our way, he maneuvers the Pilot away from the dock and zooms to catch up with our vessel. When we pull alongside the ship, they open a door and drop a ladder for us to climb aboard.
"Thank you so much," I smile at the man who saved the day for us.
"Could I take a picture with you?" He seems almost nervous as he asks the question.
"Of course!" I am thrilled to comply as he holds his cell phone up to take a selfie of us.
He leans in close to my ear after snapping the photo. "I knew you couldn't be nearly as bad as they made you look," he tells me before kissing my cheek.
Unsure how to respond to that, I smile and give him a hug before turning to climb up the scary, rope-lined ladder to our ship. I ignore the appreciative whistle from below, uncertain which of the men looking up at me has done it. I'm guessing my dress is affording them all a full view of my bikini-clad bottom. I just hope Jake isn't capturing the entire crotch shot on video for the world to stream at will.
Andrew and Jake make short work of the flimsy ladder, and the Pilot sails away from our ship. The captain makes a big production of blowing me a kiss, which I feign catching and smacking to my lips.
"Super-stardom pays off," Andrew teases near my ear.
Unfortunately, my new notorious status can only take us so far. Standing before us is the same ticket agent who had greeted me when I originally boarded the ship. Judging by the snarky look he is giving me, I can tell that he remembers our previous encounter, and he is not impressed that he has been called back to welcoming duty due to our tardiness in boarding the ship.
Jake presents his ticket, hands over his camera for inspection, and makes his way through the metal detector. Retrieving his camera, he turns it on us.
Andrew hands over his ticket and personal belongings, not seeming to notice that I am holding back. Now it is undeniably my turn, and Mr. Not-So-Friendly is holding out his hand, waiting for my ticket. I hand him my driver's license from my purse, praying that this will be enough.
"Ticket, please," he snaps, dashing my hopes of easy mid-sea entry.
"I still don't have a ticket," I admit before adding, "But don't you remember me from before?"