Gwen watched quietly as her friend proceeded through the kitchen toward the swinging, steel doors that led out into the dining room.
The dining area had tan-colored panels all around and golden columns stood twenty-feet apart on each side of the spacious room. Circular tables royally dressed with fancy, over-sized, white table cloths sheltered several tucked-in chairs. Cloth napkins neatly folded and stainless steel silverware graced the top. The tan carpet speckled with an array of darker and lighter hues covered the entire floor, and multi-colored stained glass of a breath-taking design had been set in the ceiling surrounded by dozens of white, recessed lights. A luminous, crystal chandelier hung in the center. However, double staircases with dark purple rails that led to the upper seating area gave the room a final compliment it deserved.
Several people were seated throughout the room, including Floyd Weathers and the strange men Dellie and Gwen had seen with Junior when they first boarded the ship. Other kitchen staff were taking care of their requests. Junior and Mattie were seated at a table with Captain Bruce Arahna. They were chatting quietly.
Standing in close proximity to the kitchen door, Dellie retrieved a small writing pad and pen from a nearby stand. She took a deep breath, then headed toward Junior and company. The captain's back was to her when she arrived at the table. Junior looked up with delight.
"Good morning," Dellie started. "How are you all doing this morning?"
Bruce and Mattie returned the pleasantry. Dellie noticed that Mattie looked rather tired in spite of how elegantly dressed she was with her flawlessly touched up face.
"Much better now that you're here," Junior said with a rather cunning smile. Mattie's attention was now focused on him.
Dellie's discomfort was rapidly elevating, but she was determined to conceal it. "Can I get you all something to drink first?"
"How about we order everything one time?" Junior proposed.
"Great idea!" Bruce interjected. "I just need to grab a quick bite and get back to work."
"Ah, take your time, Bruce. Dwight's got everything covered, I'm sure," Junior told him.
"I'm sure he does. He's a smart kid, but I like to be in the know at all times — as much as possible anyway."
Dellie took their orders which consisted of coffee, hot chocolate, omelets and croissants.
"I'll be right back," she said, feeling Junior's eyes penetrating her back.
The men continued chatting as Mattie watched Dellie leave.
"I don't know why I have to take breakfast orders too," Dellie said to Gwen after handing the order to Ted. Gwen was cutting up vegetables.
"They made it clear to us that we'll be cross-training on this journey," Gwen reminded her.
Dellie was standing next to her looking quite bothered.
"So how did it go in there?" Gwen asked.
"Not sure. Seems to me like he's getting a kick out of disrespecting his lady friend."
"In what way?"
"He's being flirtatious right in front of her. Rich guys like him sometimes think they have every woman wrapped around their little finger."
"Or on top of…"
"Don't say it!" Dellie sharply interrupted.
"Well, you know what I mean. Well, are you at all interested seeing that you and Rob are heading down to divorce court? You seemed like you had your mind made up about your marriage."
"Interested in who?" Dellie looked bewildered. "Junior?"
Gwen nodded.
"Hell no! He's not my type at all. Furthermore, I'm not looking for anyone. I'm hardly out of the jacked up commitment I'm in now," Dellie exclaimed.
"I only asked because I figure if you got him interested in you maybe you'd have it made in the shade. You could move up in Dragos Inc. rather quickly and look out for a particular friend who's always got your back." Gwen hinted.
"No thanks. Just having a stable job for a change is good enough for me."
"I don't blame you."
Dellie looked at her suspiciously.
"I was wrong for even bringing it up." Gwen sighed.
"What're you thinking?"
"What I really wish is that you'd reconcile with Rob. He's your husband still. Sure, he's made some mistakes. I mean, a lot of mistakes, but you can understand why he's the way he is, Dell. I don't think he's a malicious human being; he just has deep-seated problems."
"I don't want to go down this road with you again, Gwen. I just don't want to hear it," Dellie replied in an exasperated tone.
"You need to hear it, Dell! I'm your friend and if I'm not free to state my opinion about things, well, what kind of friendship is that?" She was cutting the vegetables now faster than before.
"Now stop that! You know you freely express your opinion all the time," Dellie retorted. "Look, I don't care how sentimentally you put it or how much of that forgiveness talk you try to throw at me, you're just wasting your time. I don't want to hear Rob's name on this trip anymore. I needed this getaway and your blabbering about him is just ruining it for me. Leave it alone, Gwen! I'm telling you, leave it alone."
"Dellie!" Someone called from out front.
She hurried off without saying another word.
* * * *
Dellie sat at the poolside before retiring to bed, intent on taking advantage of every luxury she was afforded while on this journey. She knew that if she landed a permanent job on the cruise ship, she might not get to enjoy the amenities that paying passengers would. Gwen had long turned in since she had lightened up on the coffee that day.
Dellie's eyes veered over to the gigantic rock climbing platform which she couldn't ever before fathom being on a cruise liner. It looked like something straight out of the movies, intricately hand-crafted with the most ingenious skill. Sitting out there late at night after most or all of the employees had already turned in and absorbing the mystifying goodness all around her was nothing less than therapeutic.
"May I join you?" a voice crept up to her.
She was initially startled because no one was in sight after a small crowd of mostly maintenance workers had left the pool — hillbilly Jack Andrews included. Looking up, her eyes met the gaze of a young man dressed in sailor attire. His short, black, wavy hair was for the most part slicked down except for some strands that had probably surfaced due to the slight breeze of the night.
"Sure," Dellie soon answered him, though with a bit of reluctance.
"Thanks. I'm Dwight." He sat next to her and cordially extended a hand.
"Nice to meet you, Dwight," Dellie returned the handshake.
A smile immediately formed on the officer's face. "So, you're not gonna tell me your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Dellie. I wasn't really thinking for a minute there."
Dwight grinned. "That's all right. Your mind must be quite far away."
Dellie looked straight ahead at the ocean.
"I'm deputy to the captain."
"I figured as much. I saw you at the meeting before we boarded," Dellie noted.
Dwight smiled again. "I noticed you too. You were sitting in a row near the front. How could I miss a face as gorgeous as yours?"
"Um… look, Dwight," she made eye contact with him, "I'm not trying to be rude, but if you're here to flirt with me, I'm going to cut this conversation short because I'm not interested."
He was taken aback by how blunt she was, but wasn't insulted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just noticed something about you and thought you might take it as a compliment. I wasn't trying to pick you up or anything," he explained.
Dellie only sighed.
"If you'd rather be alone, I can just go somewhere else until my break's up," he added.
"No. You don't have to leave," Dellie replied. "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. Just have a lot on my mind and I came out here to kind of…relax."
"I understand. You sure you don't want me to give you some privacy?" he pressed.
She shook her head. "So, have you been a sailor long?"
>
He was surprised by her sudden interest. "No, not long, but I've been trained by the best in the industry. Landing this job next to Captain Arahna is like a dream come true."
"That's nice." Dellie's face softened.
"So, you know his reputation?"
"Sure do. I assume everyone in this town knows. He's pretty well-known internationally too."
Dwight nodded in agreement. "How long have you been with Dragos?" he asked her.
"About a year and a half now."
"Like it?"
"I do. It's a job." Dellie was frank.
"Do you have a family?" He pried.
"You mean — a husband? Kids?"
"Yup."
"No kids. I'm married; soon to be divorced," she returned rather casually.
Dwight wasn't sure how to respond. "I'm sorry," he finally said.
"Don't be."
Realizing he had probably just wandered into the proverbial "shark-infested waters", he cleared his throat nervously. "So, you've found peace with it —with the upcoming divorce, I mean?"
Dellie's head was resting against the lounge chair. "The way I see it is that everything has a beginning and an ending. My marriage is no different."
"I guess you're right, but some people are lucky enough not to see that ending except 'til death. When I see my parents together and how they've made it work for nearly thirty years so far, I want that for myself. I'm sure you wanted that too when you first got married — 'til death do you part…"
"Sure. It just didn't work out that way. What about you? Are you married?"
"Nope. An eligible bachelor, I like to say," Dwight quickly replied. "That's why I can't help, but notice beautiful ladies like you." Then he realized, he had played the "flirt card" again. "I'm sorry," he quickly said. "I didn't mean to…"
"I get it. It's just something eligible bachelors often do." Dellie started to get up. "I have to go now. It was nice chatting with you."
Dwight lightly bit his bottom lip, but he could have punched himself. "Yeah. Nice chatting with you too." He watched as her curvy, attractive physique moved away from the moonlight and he seriously wondered what it would be like to get to know her better. After all, he had never really had a real relationship before. Dellie Hayworth was beautiful, soon-to-be-available and mysterious. The mysterious part was what piqued his interest even more.
* * * *
Floyd Weathers was stretched out in bed, twiddling his toes and watching his favorite game show. He was wrapped warmly under the covers, wearing his animal-print blue pajamas and totally engrossed in the program when a burning, nauseating stench hit his flared nostrils. He raised his head, sniffing to make sure he was really smelling something out of the ordinary. It started off subtly, but was rapidly intensifying. Weathers sat up as he sensed a peculiar wave of something rush through his lungs and he started to cough profusely. He could feel the squeeze of his throat, but the more he struggled, the tighter it became. The cough was persistent and he knew if he couldn't grasp hold of air really soon, he would likely choke to death right there. Suddenly, in the midst of heightened frustration, his throat cleared up completely and the sickening smell was gone.
Now, the crying. The sound of his television was muted by loud wails from what seemed like a multitude of sources. TV channels were now switching erratically, then the black screen took center stage. The crying never let up and Weathers covered his ears tightly as if the sound was too much to take. He grimaced in amazement as he watched a scene appear on the TV screen of a woman outfitted in a black, lacy gown with a matching head scarf. She was standing next to a casket at a grave-site, crying. Many people were with her all in black attire and their sobs, cries, and wails matched the sounds he was hearing in his cabin. The woman gently tossed a single, red rose atop the cream-colored casket and the noise inside the room grew louder and louder until Weathers sprung out of bed and darted out of the cabin.
Ashamed to tell anyone what had just occurred, he quietly slumped down in the passageway several feet away from his door. When he finally worked up the nerve to go back and check, he found the room completely silent, other than for the television which happened to be on the same game show he had been watching.
Chapter Seven
Six days had passed since the crew had first boarded The Caesar. It was sailing uninhibited toward the half-way point of their two week journey.
To her dismay, Dellie had been assigned to take care of all of Junior's meals, aside from her other kitchen duties. On top of that, she was made by Weathers to make regular trips up to Junior's cabin with fresh towels, among other frivolous requests. Sometimes, it was a bottle of fine wine. Other times, an ice bucket or cigarettes, or a chocolate bar from the vending machine. Each time, Junior tipped her a ten dollar bill, but always managed to slide his hand over hers whenever he did. She hated the way he stared at her like a hungry beast with saliva dripping from its mouth, tasting its prey ahead of time. Mattie was always nearby, smoking, drinking or gazing at herself in the mirror, or outside through the window at the sea. She barely made eye contact with Dellie anymore and Dellie started to wonder why. Perhaps, her "friend" insisted she didn't or else! Dellie surmised. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to hurt her head over their issues. Catering to Junior's every need and whim was problematic enough for her.
She had appeared that particular morning with more shampoo and conditioner. Junior had made the request through Weathers, who had seen that Dellie got up there right away with the items. After lightly tapping on the cabin door, it swung open widely as Mattie, without acknowledging Dellie in the least, made her way out clutching both front ends together of a large, brown coat. She brushed past Dellie and headed over to the elevator. Dellie only glanced at her as she left before Junior appeared in front of her wearing a black, silk robe.
"Good morning. Mr. Weathers asked me to bring these items to you," she said, not feeling especially good about being there at that particular moment.
"Come in," he said in that gentle, yet demanding tone she had heard the first time that night on the deck.
Dellie's feet didn't immediately move. She had never ventured inside Junior's cabin while he was alone.
"Remember, I don't bite," he added.
Dellie walked in slowly, leaving the door ajar. Junior quietly shut it behind her. She was standing there awkwardly with the dark, shiny bin that contained the shampoo and conditioner.
"Just rest that on the table there and have a seat on the couch, will you?"
"Sir, I really have a lot to do in the kitchen. Mr. Baker expects me to come right back," Dellie forced herself to say.
"Andy works for me. You don’t need to rush back to anything when you're with me," Junior replied matter-of-factly.
Dellie sat on the white, plushy couch and he next to her. There was about a foot of space between them.
"Can I help you with something, sir?" she asked.
"I think you can." He inched in closer as she fought against everything inside to slide further away. "I've noticed how you've worked over the past several days, Dellie, and must say that I'm impressed. As you know, each worker's performance on this trip could make the difference between promotions or stagnation in my company. You're aware of that, right?"
"Yes, I am aware of that, sir," Dellie answered.
"I must say that from what I've seen so far, I'm seriously considering recommending you for a rather lucrative post at Dragos Cruises. Would you like that?" he asked.
"I think any employee here would like that, sir," Dellie replied, very suspicious of what might be coming next.
"We're not talking about any employee, Dellie. We're talking about you."
"Yes, sir."
He inched in even closer and Dellie, on reflex, slid a bit to the left.
"You don't have to be uncomfortable. We're just talking okay?" His voice had lowered to almost a whisper. He cleared his throat. "How does a twenty-thousand raise per annum sound to you?" he asked in a serious tone.
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Dellie looked at him, drawn by the figure he had thrown out.
"You don't have to answer. I know you can use it," he continued. "Who can't use it? Hell! I can use a twenty-thousand dollar raise myself right now!" He laughed.
Dellie was silent.
"I'll be running this part of the operations, Dragos Cruises. My father has dropped that into my very capable hands. I figure since Miss May will be retiring in a couple of months, I'll be needing a new executive secretary to take her place. You can type, can't you?"
"I can. I got a certificate in Secretarial Studies after graduating high school."
"I know," Junior whispered in her ear, then backed off as he saw her reaction. "I've done some checking up on you."
"I'm sure you have, sir," Dellie replied.
He crossed his legs and leaned back slightly. "You can have the job if you want. I can put that in writing right now."
Dellie was looking his way. He appeared more stand-offish now for some reason. "I…I would be delighted, sir, if you really think I'm qualified."
"You're more than qualified." There was a grin interlaced with his words. "I just need a bit of commitment and good faith from your end."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Can I hold your hand for a minute?" He leaned forward again.
Dellie wasn't sure why, but she allowed it.
"I'd just like for you and me to be special friends. Friends who share things and do things together — nice things, pleasant things."
Dellie knew this was what he would eventually get at. She smelled the rat from the instant she was invited inside. "You mean, like how Mattie is your special friend?" she returned rather boldly.
Junior sighed, looking up, then his eyes met hers again. "Mattie's on her way out and she knows it and accepts it. She knew from the beginning that she and I weren't serious. It was all fun for both of us," he said. "I would like more than that from you. I find you very attractive."
Dellie slid her hand away slowly. "I'm flattered, sir, but I can't."
"You what?" he looked bewildered.
"As much as I can use the money that comes with the position, I can't. If I can't get a job based on my own merit, I would just have to bypass it until something else becomes available," Dellie explained.
Haunted Cruise: The Shakedown Page 4