“Romeo!” Kamiko blurted, tripping over her heels. Her dress spun as Brandon caught her and twirled her smoothly, swing style.
“Do you mind if I have this dance?” Brandon asked without missing a beat.
“Uhhh…” Kamiko was wide-eyed with embarrassed excitement.
Brandon led while Kamiko fell into step with him. They were actually quite good together, although Brandon towered over her.
Kamiko flashed me and Romeo a look of stark disbelief. She silently mouthed the words, “I can’t believe I’m dancing with Brandon!”
“Thank me later, darling,” Romeo smiled. Turning to me and Christos, he said, “May I have this dance?”
“Huh?” I said. “You want to dance with me?”
“No, you crazy loon! I want to dance with your boyfriend!”
“Why not,” Christos chuckled.
Before I could object, Christos grabbed Romeo around the waist and led him in a circle like a ballroom dancer.
“Squueeeeee!” Romeo cried as his eyes fireworked with delight.
Christos laughed and released Romeo after a couple of good-natured twirls.
Romeo literally sagged to a sitting position and pooled on the deck. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Sam.”
Everybody laughed, even Brandon.
“I think I need another drink or six,” Romeo said, pushing himself to his feet. “Help me Sam, it’s the least you can do after stealing the hottest man on the planet from my greedy grasp.”
“We’ll be right back,” I said to Christos.
“No worries,” Christos said. “I may have to cut in on Brandon in a second. He’s having a bit too much fun with Kamiko.”
Kamiko goggled with girlish glee.
“They’re fighting over you, Kamiko,” Romeo said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
I followed Romeo down the steps to the main deck. We walked over to the kitchen where fresh drinks were being poured. I got a refill on my champagne, but Romeo wanted a mixed drink. I think it was an excuse for him to flirt with the guy in black and white tending the bar.
I walked to the back deck on the main floor to enjoy the view.
I didn’t know how far we were from shore, but I saw no lights whatsoever, not even the glow of city lights over San Diego. Only the stars above glinted on the vast ocean surrounding us.
After a time, I decided to find everyone inside. I turned around and nearly bumped into Tiffany as she was walking out of the main cabin. “You,” she sneered. “Why can’t I ever get rid of you?”
My stomach twisted ominously. “Hey, Tiffany,” I said, trying to sound friendly, hoping to set her at ease.
She glared in response.
Ooooh-kaaaay. I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, this is such a great party, Tiffany. And you really have a beautiful boat.”
“It’s a yacht,” she corrected.
“Well, it’s really nice. And dinner was nice too. Everything was totally yummy.” I flashed a nervous smile.
“What is it with you?” she hissed.
“Huh?” I was confused. How did she manage to always make me feel like an insignificant idiot, no matter what happened? I think it was her super power.
“Why did you have to come along and ruin everything?” she snarled.
“What, I didn’t—”
“First Christos, then Brandon.”
“I’m not with Brandon,” I said defensively.
“I see the way he looks at you,” she leered.
“I’m not interested in Brandon. I’m with Christ—”
“You think you’re all that, you stupid bitch?” she snapped, interrupting me.
Bitch…
She continued her tirade, “Coming into my world and glomming onto Christos? You think it’s that easy? You’re fucking wrong, you dirty slit.” Tiffany had the fangs out now. “I’m sure you gave it up to Christos the day you met him, just like every other slut has.”
Slut…
“That’s not true—”
She cut me off dismissively. “That’s all he wants from you, or any of them,” she hissed. “Because that’s all you have to give. Just your skeevy, skankish, poorhouse cunt.”
I held in my gasp. Tiffany was drunk. I wasn’t playing into her torrent of insults.
“I’m the only one good enough for Christos,” Tiffany slurred. “He’s not going to stay interested in you for long.” Tiffany held her glass of champagne in her hand and extended an accusatory finger at me. With each sentence she thrust her hand forward, causing champagne to slosh inside the glass. “As soon as he’s had his fun with you, and I can tell you’re nothing more than a slimy slutcrack so it won’t take long, he’s going to move onto the next one, and the next. Until he finally figures it out.”
Figures what out? I wondered.
“Sooner or later,” she sneered, “the game will get old for Christos, and he’ll end up with me, where he belongs. Not. You.” She jabbed her glass on her final words and champagne spilled over the rim.
The grim mask of despair on her face was horrid. I’d never seen her so ugly. Her sweaty drunkenness and smudged makeup made her look even worse. She scowled at me, but I detected more than anger brimming beneath her contorted features.
It was obvious that frustrated desire was torturing Tiffany to her soul, but I didn’t think the anguish of unfulfilled love was what ate away at her. It was her greed, her lust for the one thing she couldn’t have.
Not having Christos was killing her.
Tiffany swayed lazily and a final dribble of champagne splashed onto her shoes. “You ruined my shoes, you boorish whore.”
Whore…
I wasn’t going to let her get to me. Tiffany wasn’t going to take me back to my past.
Bitch. Slut. Whore…
I was stronger than her. Tiffany was pathetic.
She curled her lips and said, “These Louboutins cost more than your car, you asscap. Get off my boat.”
“What? We’re in the middle of the ocean!”
“You heard me, get off my boat!” She lunged at me.
I sidestepped.
Tiffany stumbled into the handrail. “Oof!” She folded over the metal bar and almost went over edge.
I grabbed for the back of her dress. “Tiffany! Watch out!” If I hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen and face-planted on the transom deck at the back of the yacht, eight feet below.
“Let go of me, you cunt!” She spun around and slapped me in the face.
CRACK!
It sounded like a pistol shot. I reeled back, my face stinging. I imagined the red hand-print that would inevitably form on my cheek. I was mortified. Did this yacht have any lifeboats? I needed to abandon ship.
Holding my hand to my cheek, I backed up a step and bumped into Madison. Romeo stood next to her.
Madison gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Sam. You didn’t deserve that,” she consoled.
“Thanks, Mads,” I whispered, still in shock.
Romeo murmured under his breath. “That rabid vagina has no class, no matter how fancy her yacht is, or how much money she has.”
Tiffany sagged against the railing. struggling to keep herself on her drunk-ass feet.
Romeo patted my shoulder. “Forget about that uber goober.”
Tiffany glared at him, then flexed her fingernails at me. She looked ready to lunge again.
Madison stepped in front of me. “Relax, Tiffany. You’ve had way too much to drink.”
Tiffany ignored Madison. Her sights were still laser-focused on me. She rocked unsteadily on her feet, either weighing the odds, or too drunk to punch.
Madison balled her petite fists and growled, “Back off, Tiffany. I’m warning you.” Now she had Tiffany’s attention.
“You’re no better than she is, stupid whore,” Tiffany hissed at Madison.
“Is everything okay?” Christos said as he pedaled down the stairs from the top deck.
Kamiko followed. “What happe
ned, you guys?”
“Uh…” I was speechless.
Tiffany stopped in her tracks. The look of anguish that flashed across her face as she gazed at Christos almost broke my heart. Poor thing. But I was all done being compassionate with her. When someone tries to slice your eyes out, it’s time to give up on the goodwill and leave it at polite pity.
Everyone surrounded Tiffany.
I felt like I was witnessing some sort of old-world shunning ceremony where everyone officially scorned the village shrew for taking things a step too far.
Christos walked up to me and I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him. He draped a protective arm over my shoulders.
“What happened, Samantha?” Christos asked, taking in the situation. “I thought I heard a scuffle down here.”
I rested my stinging cheek against Christos’ chest, hiding the red evidence of Tiffany’s ire. “It’s nothing,” I whispered.
Tiffany’s eyes brimmed with tears. A heavy mask of abject panic and profound misery weighed her down. Her head sunk between her shoulders. She barged past the crowd that had formed on the back deck to gawk at the scene. She plowed past, into the living room, then made her way down the narrow staircase beside the kitchen.
You could’ve heard a pin drop, the crowd was so silent. The sound of a door slamming downstairs shattered the silence momentarily, but it returned as everyone gaped wordlessly at each other.
I hoped Tiffany would stay locked in whatever room she’d retreated to for the remainder of the trip.
Why did I have the sinking feeling that whatever Tiffany did, tonight or in the days to come, she would make sure that someone’s voyage ended up at the bottom of the sea?
I just prayed it wouldn’t be mine.
SAMANTHA
When the commotion died down, and I reassured Christos that I was okay, we all rejoined the crowd inside. Because the alcohol had been flowing for awhile, it didn’t take long for everyone to rekindle the party atmosphere. Conversation picked up, and soon the main room filled with celebratory laughter and good cheer.
The dark haze I’d felt after Tiffany’s outburst faded from my memory. A few more drinks helped push away the bad vibes. I was in a saucy mood.
“You ready to snoop around the rest of the boat,” Romeo asked mischievously, “while the wicked witch is asleep?”
I giggled. “Why not? Maybe we’ll find her magic mirror or her bubbling cauldron.”
“Or mermen trapped in the cargo hold,” Kamiko slurred, then hiccupped. “Mermen are hot. I require the services of my own personal merman right now,” she said lustily.
“Have you been drinking, Kamiko?” Romeo gasped.
Kamiko’s eyelids were at half-mast and her cheeks glowed red. Frowning, she said, “So fucking what? It’s New Year’s Eve, you vag hag, and I’m not the one driving the boat.”
Madison and I burst out laughing.
“Goodness gracious!” Romeo feigned offense. “Who knew Kamiko was such a mean drunk?”
We made our way down the cramped spiral staircase beside the kitchen. A number of closed doors encircled the downstairs hallway.
“How many frickin’ rooms does this yacht have?” I whispered.
Knowing Tiffany was down below somewhere had me vaguely worried. I suddenly felt like I was in one of those trapped-at-sea monster movies, and some creeping deep-sea Tiffany might burst through one of the cabin doors any second, roaring and raging like a spurned she-shark. We’d all be trapped belowdecks while she rampaged and bit everyone’s heads off.
“It’s really quiet down here,” Kamiko mumbled. “Do you think Tiffany’s dead?”
“We can hope,” Romeo said.
A doorway at the end of the hall stood open a crack. I peeked inside, expecting to see Tiffany sprawled out on the bed, either dead or sleeping off her drunk. Nope, the room was empty.
The four of us crept inside. I closed the door and fumbled for the light switch. The room was beautiful. It must have been the master suite.
“This is nicer than most of the hotels I’ve stayed at,” Madison said.
Romeo flipped on the lights in the bathroom.
“OMG,” Kamiko said. “They have a bidet on their boat.”
“That bidet is bigger than my bathtub,” Madison said.
“My dorm doesn’t even have a bathtub,” Kamiko said longingly.
“Tiffany is scary rich,” Madison said. “You’d think she’d be less of a bitch with so much money, but I guess it doesn’t work that way.”
I stuck my head in the bathroom. “We should go, you guys. No one else is down here.”
Romeo turned and squeezed out of the bathroom first. “Would you look at that,” he said, staring at the large painting over the queen-sized bed. “It’s that painting of Tiff the Quiff.”
“The one Christos sold at Brandon’s gallery!” Kamiko blurted.
I’d totally forgotten about it. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told us it was going in her yacht. The painting depicted Tiffany in a bikini, lounging beside the infinity pool behind her dad’s mansion. The night of Christos’ show, Tiffany had bragged that her dad had paid $25,000 for it.
Romeo stepped up onto the bed, heedless of the fact he still wore his shoes.
“What are you doing, Romeo?!” I gasped.
The bedspread bunched around his feet. “Whoops!” he said, giving the covers a wrinkling twist with his shoes.
“You know Tiff’s going to make the servants fix the bed,” Kamiko said dryly.
Romeo considered. “Maybe it will piss them off enough that they decide to poison her in her sleep.” He ran in place several strides, tearing the covers up.
“Get off the bed, Romeo,” Madison said.
He ignored her. “I always thought this painting needed a finishing touch. A final flourish, if you will.” He pulled a black marker out of his pocket.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked, worried.
“What, the pen? An artist is always prepared.” He uncapped the black marker and leaned toward the painting, one arm resting on top of the picture frame.
“Romeo,” I warned, “you should stop now.”
Kamiko and Madison were both wide-eyed, but no one seemed to be jumping in to save Tiffany’s painting. I couldn’t blame them.
“Don’t, Romeo!” I pleaded half-heartedly. Well, make that quarter-heartedly.
“Worry not, dearest Sam,” he said. “It’s water-soluble.”
“But what if it doesn’t come off?” I asked.
Kamiko suddenly went vicious. “Tiffany has been a total bitch to you all night, Sam. She was trying to claw your eyes out and throw you in the ocean. She totally deserves it,” Kamiko argued. “Do it Romeo,” she goaded, “Unless the meatballs between your legs have turned into cotton balls.”
Romeo was never one to be outdone in a comic standoff. “Very funny, Kamiko. I’m sure your gargantuan lady balls swing between your legs like a gorilla’s musty nutsack. Anyway, I don’t see the pen in your hand, Zorro.”
Kamiko parried, “You’re the Gay Blade around here, not me.”
There was a pregnant pause before Madison, Kamiko, and Romeo snickered their way into boozy belly laughs.
Wow, they were all drunk. This situation was now officially out of hand. I was surrounded by intoxicated idiots.
Romeo was about to resume his penmanship practice when I grabbed for his arm. He dodged clear, almost falling off the bed, but caught himself. “Careful, Sam, the artist is at work.” He tilted his head from side to side, examining the painting in preparation. “That Tiffany is such a total bitch—”
I couldn’t disagree with him there.
“—she’s like one of those train-track melodrama villains,” Romeo continued, “but Christos’ painting doesn’t quite capture that.” He leaned forward and drew a small, twisty black line.
“I don’t know Romeo, maybe this is too much,” I said nervously, certain we’d be caught. I reached for his arm ag
ain, but he shrugged me off.
“Wait,” he whined. “I need to get the twirliness just right.” Romeo squeezed his monocle into his eye socket. His tongue jutted from the corner of his mouth as he scrawled the other half of a mustache onto the painting of Tiffany’s face. “There. Perfect.” He stood back to admire his work and let his monocle swing free from its button-string.
“Oh my god, Romeo,” I said. I couldn’t decide if I was horrified or mortified, or maybe just a bit satisfied.
Tiffany had been a Bitch On High to me at every turn since day one. No matter what I did, she hammered me down with obvious delight. A little temporary water-soluble disfigurement of her treasured painting might do her some good. Remind her that she wasn’t permitted to walk through life hurting people, free from consequence. Maybe I’d been cutting her too much slack all along, and she needed a wake-up call.
“It captures her inner spirit, don’t you think?” Romeo asked joyfully.
I had to agree. Twirly-mustached Tiffany was definitely an improvement. “But it needs one more thing,” I said. I stepped onto the bed, took the marker from Romeo, and drew Where’s Waldo glasses on Tiffany. Wow, that felt really, really good. I smiled at my handiwork.
“That’s more like it!” Romeo cheered.
Madison and Kamiko chuckled.
I handed Romeo his pen and he capped it before shoving it in his pocket. He pulled his smart phone out of his other pocket and snapped a picture. “For posterity,” he smiled at me, “And my blog.”
He stepped carefully off the bed and helped me down. “I still can’t get over how fancy this yacht is,” he said. “It’s some kind of James Bond boat. I keep expecting Tiffany to strut in wearing a bikini, carrying a loaded harpoon gun like that Octopussy chick.”
“What’s an octopussy?” Madison giggled.
“Haven’t you seen that James Bond movie?” Romeo asked.
“No,” Madison answered.
“You mean Octiffany,” Kamiko suggested. “She totally has eight arms she uses to snare her unsuspecting prey and eat them alive with her toothy maw.”
I think watching Adventure Time all the time had finally gone to Kamiko’s brain in all the wrong ways.
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