by K. J. Larsen
Behind us the DeLuca bash was in full swing. The bass sent vibrations through the bottoms of our feet in time with the music. Champagne flowed like Niagara Falls. The twins each tilted a bottle to the sky in a speed race to see who could guzzle a bottle first. There was loud, drawn out belching followed by boy giggles.
Captain Bob’s daughter tromped over in a black sequined maxi dress with a slit up the thigh. “Hey, gorgeous,” I said.
Ellie hissed in my ear. “How dare you, Catarina DeLuca. You’re the one who upset my parents. Leave my mother out of this!”
“Don’t do this, Ellie. You and I have been friends forever.”
Ellie dramatically spun on her heel and stomped away.
“I know you were driving that day,” I said.
Ellie froze and I went to her.
“Geez, girl. We were what? Fifteen? What happened?”
“Billy Bonham and I played hooky from school. Some band was in town and Mom was away for the day. It was late. I dropped Billy at home and I heard this horrific sound. Steel crushing bone and flesh. I still hear it today. I have nightmares. If I saw the hit, I don’t remember. Is it possible to block out something like that?”
“I dunno. Talk to someone who can help you, El.”
“I was scared. I drove home and told my mom. She put the van in the garage and then one morning it was gone.”
A server floated by and Ellie grabbed two glasses of bubbly and handed one to me.
“Thanks.”
She tossed hers down. “How did you know?”
“It was the blue bird. Your mom had after-school craft projects for us. You remember the bird we made out of papier mâché? With a red tail.”
“And a ton of glitter.”
“A friend of Danny’s witnessed the accident. He saw it hanging from your mirror. He didn’t see you. He saw the bird.”
She smiled. “Guess that’s a dead giveaway.”
“First I thought your mom was driving. A few things didn’t add up. And then she said she was driving north.”
“I was going south.”
“Yeah.”
Ellie hugged me tight. “You’re the best friend I ever had.” She held me a moment and I heard a little gasp.
“Come to Mama,” she breathed.
“Huh?”
She grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Who’s that hunk of gorgeous?”
She was ogling Max.
“That’s Max. Ex-Special Forces. Ex government spy. Just about Tino’s best friend. Drives a Hummer and a spankin’ new Jag.”
“Will my parents like him?”
“They’ll love him.”
“Dammit.”
She fluffed her hair and licked her lips. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous. Go ask that delicious man over there to dance with you.”
Ellie crossed the room from the left as Sophie, my switched-at-birth sister, swept in from the right. Sophie saw Ellie going for Max and she started to run. But Ellie had long, determined legs and a long, dry spell without a man between them. She reached Max first, attached herself to his arm, and hung on.
I could read Ellie’s lips. Back. Off. Barbie.
Sophie’s shoulders slumped and her husband, Peter, swept in. He took Sophie in his arms.
“Good gawd,” Papa said in my ear. “Are they doing the tango?”
“I believe they are.”
“Who the hell is leading?”
“Believe it or not, Papa, it’s Peter.”
“It’s disturbing to watch your daughter dance like that.”
“Perhaps they could finish the dance in the Caribbean. If you and Mama will babysit, Savino can hook them up with a beach house.”
“I’ll ask her.” He grabbed another champagne. “All these bubbles are giving me gas.”
“Chance says there’s good whiskey at the bar.”
I took the glass from his hand and tossed its contents down my throat.
***
There was the feedback of a sound system firing up and the captain’s voice welcoming us aboard and announcing we would be casting off in ten minutes. We drifted back to the party and the Savinos started mingling around the edges.
Chance and I were immediately the center of attention.
“Have you set the date yet?”
“Your babies will be so Bee-U-Tee-full!”
“Gonna make an honest woman of her, eh?” Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
I felt a little giddy and wondered how much champagne I’d had. I’d have to be vigilant lest I played into the devious mamas’ hands.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mama shove Father Timothy through the crowd. Mama looked like the Wrath of God pushing his unwilling prophet into the belly of a whale. I looked up at Chance and caught him staring down at me again with that same inscrutable look I’d seen earlier.
The moral high road talk was about to commence.
Suddenly a piercing note sounded overhead. We all jumped and looked up. The boat’s horn was announcing our departure. The crowd cheered, Champagne bottles popped. We felt a slight sway under our feet as the boat began casting off.
Savino pulled me to him and I lay my head on his chest. His heart beat strong on my cheek and my own fell in sync.
The sound system hummed back to life and a voice sounded overhead.
“Good evening, my name is Chad and I am your cruise director for this evening. On behalf of the crew and those serving you tonight, welcome aboard and thank you for choosing Omega Cruise Lines, the greatest cruise line on the Great Lake of Michigan!
“Tonight’s route offers unparalleled views of our world-famous Chicago skyline. As we leave Chicago Harbor, we will begin north past North Avenue Beach and then swing about to the south. We’ll be dropping anchor near the Planetarium and Shedd Aquarium, just outside Burnham Harbor, where you will enjoy the best view of our stunning skyline and this evenings fireworks from Navy Pier.
“Tonight’s cruise is in honor of two people who are getting engaged tonight! Or is it a wedding? I’ve spotted a priest with us. And our custom three-tiered wedding cake has mysteriously been added as part of tonight’s buffet!”
I slugged down my champagne and glanced up at Savino. The cobalt blues took my breath away.
The sound of a nearby horn cut into the night.
Savino smiled. “That’s Stan. He’s our ride.”
I giggled. “We’re escaping Mama’s sabotage cruise?”
“Happy anniversary, Babe.”
“Woo hoo!” I slapped a high five. “Who’s Stan?”
“We were partners when our prisoner escaped from the MRI.”
A thundering voice boomed over the boat’s speaker. “Attention Spirit of Chicago! This is FBI Agent Stan Cross on the Mr. I Free. Cut your engines and prepare for two passengers to disembark.”
I blinked. “You stole your fugitive’s boat?”
“Temporarily. The feds always lose stuff.”
Savino grabbed my hand and we pushed through the crowd to the port-side deck and leaned over the rail. A sixty-four-foot Princess yacht hugged our boat.
“Su-weet,” I said.
Chance’s ex-partner waved. He had a bad-boy smile and a fresh sunburn. He’d been playing pirate since he and Chance arrested their MRI fugitive.
Stan tossed up a rope and Savino secured it to the rail.
Papa dashed a tear from his eye. “Finally! They’re eloping!”
I scrabbled over the rail and shimmied down the rope with Savino hot on my tail. Our feet hit the deck of the Mr. I Free and Stan jammed the yacht in gear. We were off and running.
Chance gathered me into his arms and kissed me. A long and slow kiss like savoring chocolate.
The Spirit of Chicago exploded with cheers. I decided the happy sobs w
ere Cleo’s. Maybe Frankie’s too.
And yet, above all the hoopla, Mama’s clicking sound cut across the water. Her shrill voice pierced the night.
“Caterina, come back! You forgot the priest!”
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