by PJ Sharon
I took two steps backward, totally flustered. Met with a cocky expression of amusement, my heart skipped and my cheeks burned. A crooked smile that seemed to light up his face caught me off guard—like he knew something I didn’t know.
“No...I...um...I’m exploring the boat.” Could I sound less convincing?
“Technically, it’s a ship.” He sounded just like Maddie. His grin widened and I was instantly annoyed. With his dark brown hair trimmed short, he could have passed for a military school cadet, the Mr. Perfect type I was so not into.
“Right.” I tucked my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “Well, I’m going to keep...exploring.” I turned my back, my face hot as I retreated down the hall.
“Hey,” he called. “You know if you go this way, you’ll find the forward elevators. They’ll get you down to your room on deck four.”
I spun to see him pointing down the other hallway and my face blazed hotter.
“Oh? And how do you know where my room is?” I sniped, walking back toward him and stopping a few feet away, my arms folded across my chest.
“Because I saw you and your grandmother go into room 4052 a couple of hours ago. You’re right down the hall from me.” He held up his key card. “Room 4064,” he said, grinning like I should be ecstatic about this news.
“Okay, so we’re neighbors.” I avoided eye contact by sizing him up. I didn’t like how smooth, how confident, how crazy good looking he was. Boys of about eighteen—which is what I judged him to be—should not be that comfortable in their skin. It made me nervous, and I thought of Seth of the nasty beer breath, his clammy paws all over me. I squirmed in my sandals.
As if he was in my head, Mr. Smooth gave me an innocent look and said, “I’m harmless. I wasn’t stalking you or anything. I was just wondering how you were feeling after that rough flight.”
“Yeah...the flight...sorry about that.” I stared down at my feet, my mortification complete.
“No worries. It’s not the first time I’ve been puked on.”
When I glanced up, he was still smiling and looking like a cross between the two brothers on Supernatural, Dean and Sam, all rolled into one. I wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment. Should I be grateful that my puking on him wasn’t that bad and say thank you? Or should I apologize again and skulk away before I said or did anything else to embarrass myself?
I decided on both. I couldn’t be a total coward. “Thanks for saying that, but I am sorry. I don’t travel well,” I added lamely. It was hard to meet his eyes, which had an empathetic gleam to them. Dressed in Dockers and a collared polo shirt, he exuded a certain charm that made me feel like Thompson Lake was very far away and much less sophisticated than the world he knew.
“Try this.” He dug in his back pocket and handed me a foil package. “It works great. Take one every night before you go to bed and the motion won’t bother you so much.” Noticing my doubtful frown, he added, “I can get more from the ship’s Medical Officer. No worries.”
I took the package, wondering if he might have something a little more potent in his pocket. The thought of being without weed for the next three weeks had me heaving a sigh.
“Thanks again. I should get going to dinner. I’m supposed to meet my grandmother there at five. It must be pretty close to that now.
He checked his watch. “You have fifteen minutes. Didn’t anyone mention its formal night?” He looked me up and down for a moment, and taking note of my involuntary expression of horror at his scrutiny, covered, “You have plenty of time to change...” When my eyes grew wider he stammered, “I mean...I wouldn’t worry about it. It usually takes me a couple of days to get my bearings when I travel.” He smiled broadly, working his dimples to try to make me feel less self-conscious—and failing miserably. “It’s not like they’ll throw you overboard or not feed you.”
I had to crack a smile at that. He was trying to be nice, and I couldn’t make up my mind if I should be on my guard or accept his charitable gesture. He was obviously a rich kid with not a care in the world except to feel sorry for me—the lost, lamely dressed, motion sick girl who needed sympathy like I needed a fork in the eye. I stood up to my full height, squaring my shoulders so that I was only an inch shorter than this sweet, intimidating, captivating, and completely out-of-my-league guy. “You go on a lot of seniors’ cruises, do you?” I asked coolly.
“This is my third cruise actually—although this is my first time in the Mediterranean and I don’t usually travel with seniors.”
“Are you here with a relative or did someone ditch you?” I asked, wondering if we at least had that in common.
For the first time, his face faltered, a tiny crack in his armor of self-assurance. “My dad is meeting me in France. Until then I’m on my own.” He recovered and the crack closed up, but he knew that I knew it was there, and I could tell he didn’t like me knowing.
Not one to miss an opportunity to prove the Medusa Lady right, I capitalized on his weakness so I could make my own inadequacies less glaring. “Does your dad make a habit of leaving you on cruise ships alone in the middle of the ocean?” My voice sounded both skeptical and sarcastic, exactly what I wanted in my effort to gain the upper hand in the conversation.
This time, however, he held his face in perfect composure, the cocky guy returning to the forefront, his lips curled into a condescending smirk. “Technically, the Mediterranean is a Sea, not an ocean. And not that it’s any of your business, but the trip was a graduation present. My father is a cardiac surgeon. He was called for a consultation in Paris and this was the only ship arriving in France on the day we were supposed to meet.”
“Oh...” I said, deflated. Not only had I insulted him, but I’d accused his famous father—who sounded like he might be up for a Nobel Peace Prize—of abandoning him. I shrugged, my cheeks growing warm again. “You’re right. It was none of my business. Sorry.”
We stood awkwardly for a minute, neither of us making eye contact. Finally, I broke the silence as I slipped past him toward the elevators. “I’ll be going to dinner now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“If you’re going straight to the dining room, you need to go the other way—toward the stern.” He pointed down the hallway I’d just come from and gave me the abridged version of the crooked smile I’d seen a few minutes before. This one, forced and polite. So much for making friends. From the look on his face, I’d done a fair job of blowing any chance of fun on this trip—right out of the water.
Chapter 7
A half hour and several wrong turns later, I made it to the dining hall, a huge chandeliered room filled with bustling waiters delivering silver covered trays to what seemed like hundreds of tables. With the red tablecloths and everyone wearing fancy suits and ball gowns, my clothes completely set me apart. As the waiter assessed my apparel—likely preparing to remind me how underdressed I was—Maddie stood and waved.
The waiter bowed politely, showed me to our table, and pulled out the chair across from Maddie, gesturing for me to sit.
“Oh, dear...is that the nicest outfit you brought with you?” Without waiting for my response, she continued, “We’ll pick you up a few things on our travels. Don’t you worry.”
I squirmed, trying to ignore the stares from the next table. Then I noticed we were one of the few tables for two and wondered why we weren’t part of the larger seating arrangements like most of the other passengers, who—I noted—were all pretty much gray haired and old.
Maddie gave me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you and I could use a little one on one time to get to know each other. Besides, your grandfather and I always had a private table when we dined.”
I stared at the menu, deciding on the Mesclun salad and the pasta something-or-other that I couldn’t pronounce. “Aren’t you sick of me yet? Everyone else seems to be.” My tone came out snippier than I’d intended, but it was the first real thing I’d said to her since the trip started.
She lowered her menu and eyed me over t
he glasses she’d just slipped on. “No one is sick of you. Although, it seems your behavior is getting out of control, don’t you think?”
I didn’t want to get into defending myself at the start, but I couldn’t let the comment slide. “I’m not ‘out of control.’ If marijuana wasn’t illegal, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Perhaps not, but the fact is, until the Federal Government decides differently, marijuana is illegal, and you’ve been caught twice breaking the law—three times if I choose to tell your mother about your little party incident on the beach.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled the menu up in front of me again.
“Lexi...Ali...listen to me.” My grandmother’s face turned stony as she reached across and lowered my menu. “I remember what it was like to be young. I ran with a fast crowd in my day. Back in the sixties when I was modeling in New York and doing the Broadway circuit, I saw my share of parties. Don’t act as if your generation invented getting high.” She laid down her own menu and removed her glasses. “But if I hadn’t been so caught up in my career and living the high life, I don’t think...well, I don’t think your father would have had such a hard time...with alcohol.” Her voice was low and her eyes a sad and glassy blue.
“This isn’t about my dad. Or Amanda,” I said before she could throw my sister in the mix. “I don’t know why everyone wants to blame my actions on someone else. It isn’t a big deal.”
I turned my attention to the waiter who arrived to take our order. He was young, and like most of the wait staff, appeared to be Indonesian, according to Maddie. We ordered our dinner and when the waiter left, the silence between us was somber. I hadn’t thought about my father in a while, but being with Maddie, it was hard not to. I’d stopped wondering why he drank. I figured it was about some childhood drama that he never resolved. Maybe this was it. Maybe he felt his mom didn’t love him. Or maybe there was more to the story. I wasn’t certain I really wanted to know. Dredging up the past was a waste of energy as far as I was concerned. Besides, I barely remembered him.
Maddie broke the awkward silence. “What is it you want out of life, Lexi?”
The question startled me and I had to think for a minute. “I don’t know. I just want to finish school and be out on my own...like every other teenager.”
“What about college? Don’t you have a dream? Something you’re passionate about?” Maddie continued as the waiter delivered our first course—white plates adorned with a smattering of greens, sliced pears, glazed pecans, and what looked like feta cheese. “Don’t you want to see the world?”
Her eyes took on a far-off look as she stared beyond me out the long windows to the darkening sky. I followed her gaze. As much as I was grateful I wasn’t feeling sick, I still couldn’t help but notice the subtle movement of the ship through the water and the horizon gliding by. I dropped my focus to my fork and plate as I considered her question.
“Well...I like playing guitar, but my grades haven’t been that great this year, and Mom won’t let me take lessons again until I pull them up. I don’t really care, though. It wasn’t like I was learning anything from my teacher that I can’t figure out myself.” I stuffed a forkful of greens, drizzled with tangy dressing, into my mouth.
“Guitar, huh? And I suppose you want to play in a band.” Maddie folded her napkin across her lap, nibbled on a roll, and sipped her wine.
“My friends have a band...but...I don’t really like playing in front of people.” I picked up a pecan that slipped off my fork, and popped it in my mouth. The conversation was leading down yet another road I didn’t want to go. I played for myself and no one else. How that could possibly translate into a career in music, I couldn’t imagine.
Not that it mattered. Mom thought my guitar was one more thing distracting me from getting better grades. Math and science weren’t bad, but I had let my English and history grades slide. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just wasn’t any good at being a student—having people tell me what to do all the time—tell me who I should be and how I should think. Mom would never go for music school anyway. Too much money for too little return, she’d say, more practical than ever since Mitch was basically supporting us. I dismissed the idea for the hundredth time.
“Your grandfather played guitar when I first met him.” Maddie’s eyes got the same misty, far-off look again. “He gave up on music all together once we moved to California and he started the shoe business. He didn’t seem to play much after Nicholas was a few years old. I guess he got too busy. I was surprised when your father picked it up as a teenager. It must run in the blood.” Her voice sounded strained.
I ate my dinner in silence, putting together the unfinished pieces of my father’s life and listening as Maddie reminisced about Grandpa and the “good old days.” All I remembered about Grandpa Henry was that he smelled strongly of cologne and gin. He was funny in an oddball sort of way, always cracking jokes and laughing at things that amused only him. We didn’t see my grandparents much after Dad died, so I missed the opportunity to get to know my grandfather better. The one clear memory I had of him was that the light had gone out of his eyes after his only son died.
As far as my dad and his guitar, I vaguely remembered him showing me a few chords when I was small, but I’d all but forgotten the sound of his playing. Mom had given me his old Gibson when I turned ten and started me with music lessons to keep me from driving her crazy by plucking away at the strings trying to teach myself. I had an electric guitar I played unplugged when I didn’t want to be heard, but his old acoustic was my favorite—the only piece of my father that still meant something to me. I tuned back in to Maddie’s stroll down memory lane just as the waiter arrived to take our plates and hand us the dessert menu.
“Ahh, dessert. Henry’s favorite part of the meal. Remember, we’re on vacation, so order anything you like.” Maddie’s eyes lit up as she oohed and ahhed over the delicious choices on the menu. “I think I’ll have the crème brulee,” she said finally.
“Me too, I guess.” I handed the menu to the waiter, glad not to have to come up with a decision on my own. As much as I was sick of everyone treating me like a kid, the responsibilities that lay ahead terrified me. The most money I’d earned was a few hundred bucks the summer before, cleaning stalls at the horse stables at Thompson Lake. Once school started, I’d had to give it up or flunk out. Time management and setting priorities were not my strengths. The Medusa Lady tried to convince me that my lack of focus was a weed issue. I wasn’t so sure since I’d never been able to match Amanda’s natural efficiency and ability to juggle everything at once.
“Tomorrow, we begin exploring the Mediterranean.” Maddie’s voice cut through my painful thoughts. “I can’t wait for you to see Santa Margherita. It’s such a beautiful little village.”
Before I could ask what was on the agenda for the tour, a familiar face entered the dining hall. My new friend seemed to be following me. His gaze roamed through the crowded tables searching for someone. I wondered who he might be sitting with when his focus landed on me, and a smile stretched across his face. Crud...he was heading our way. I slid up in my chair and straightened my shirt, pulling it down lower to cover my midsection and the new post in my navel, still a bit red and itchy from the piercing. I kept my eyes cast down, hoping he would veer off toward another table.
“Hi again,” he said as he approached.
I lifted my gaze and my face turned instantly warmer. Dressed in a sport coat and tie, and a pair of black slacks, complete with a polished belt buckle and expensive dress shoes, he looked like he’d stepped off the cover of Prep School Boys edition of GQ magazine. Maddie set down her napkin and turned to greet our visitor.
“Hello, young man.” She glanced from him to me and back again. “I assume you two know each other.” Then her gaze fell on me. “Lexi didn’t mention she’d made a friend.” Her eyes sparkled and her lips turned up into a suspicious but satisfied grin.
“Ethan Kaswell,
ma’am. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, meeting her grip for a moment and making eye contact, and then there it was—that thousand watt grin.
Maddie’s eyes lit up. “Would you care to join us?”
“I’d hate to intrude,” he said with a quick glance my way.
“Of course not,” Maddie replied before I could object. She signaled to the waiter and asked him to bring another chair, despite the fact she and I had all but finished eating. The waiter complied and before I knew it, Ethan was sitting beside me, patiently enduring Maddie’s interrogation. His ability to eat while being visually dissected, and simultaneously answering the onslaught of questions heaped on by my grandmother, was impressive. I ate my dessert in silence. As much as I felt bad for the guy, I couldn’t help but appreciate Maddie’s ability to get to the vital stuff fast.
It turned out that Ethan was from New York, he’d attended a prep school in Connecticut for the past four years, and had recently graduated at the top of his class. He’d been accepted to Columbia’s Pre-Med program in the fall on a Lacrosse scholarship. As I fought not to choke on the crusty sugar coating on my crème brulee, I couldn’t help but be impressed...and annoyed. He was exactly the kind of guy Amanda would have dated in high school, the kind she could pretend to be perfect with—the kind I steered clear of. My chest tightened, and I reached for water, unable to swallow past the scraping in my throat from the crystallized sugar.
“So where are you going to school in the fall?” Ethan asked, innocently turning his eyes toward me as he shoveled another bite of steak into his mouth.
“I still have a year of high school,” I said, my ears heating up. “I haven’t thought much about college yet.” I eyed Maddie, who looked all too pleased with herself.
Ethan swallowed, set down his fork, and sipped his water. “Taking some time off for the summer to explore the world, huh?” Although obviously meant to make me feel better about my inferior status and lack of direction, there was a hint of longing in his voice. Maybe having your life mapped out wasn’t as appealing as it seemed.