He was now staring at her and she could see the fury in his eyes. "Do you realize who it is you're talking to? You're talking to the man who pays your salary. I dictate whether or not you have a job! I'm here offering you an even better position with benefits that other employees don't enjoy and you're turning me down? A mere maintenance worker turning Clyde Dragos Jr. down?"
"I think I need to go now." Dellie started to get up.
Junior stood as well. "You know what?" He was right in her face. "You either accept my proposal by the time we get to Finland or you can consider yourself unemployed and will find your own way back home!"
"You can't do that!" Dellie couldn't believe her ears.
"Don't forget whose ship you're standing in either. You have until we dock at Finland. Shut the door on your way out!" He turned and looked out of the window.
As Dellie left the cabin, she felt lower than the ground she walked on. She knew that what Junior was doing to her had a legal term affixed to it: It was sexual harassment in every sense of the word. She was also aware that if word got out, it could cause a major scandal for Dragos Inc.
Walking down the stairs to each adjoining floor, she thought about how long she had waited for a good career and how much she enjoyed being a part of such a large and reputable company. Now, that very job was being threatened by a snot-nosed, rotten kid who had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Though she didn't want to have anything to do with a scandal, Dellie was prepared to hold on to her job no matter what.
As she was passing one of the lounge areas, she spotted Mattie sitting alone, smoking a cigarette.
She decided to go over there. "May I?" Dellie asked.
Mattie nodded, giving her approval to sit down. "You should take him up on his offer - whatever that is," she said, looking straight ahead into nowhere.
"You two discussed this before I came?" Dellie was curious.
"We didn't discuss anything other than the fact that he wanted to speak with you privately. You think I don't see how he looks at you? I'm not blind!" She took another puff of her cigarette.
"Look, Mattie. I'm not interested in taking your place. You can rest assured of that. I'm not a threat to you."
Mattie looked her way, surprised at her response.
"You don't understand," she started. "When you've grown up as poor as I did where some days my siblings and I had to go hungry, you breathe a real sigh of relief when someone who can't identify with your way of life, showers you with everything you never thought you would ever be able to afford on your own. Drawing such a man's interest in you is one thing, but keeping his interest and fighting to do so every day becomes wearisome after a while. He doesn't love me. He never did and he never will. If he doesn't pick you up, he'll eventually have someone else and I'll be a thing of the past — a nothing and no one just like before."
Dellie couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She identified with those feelings of not being "good enough" when she was unemployed for all those years and couldn't even afford to buy a single cup of coffee without relying on her husband. She knew that Mattie was crying out in her own way and wished there was something she could do to help her. She leaned forward and reached for Mattie's hand.
"I know how you feel," Dellie told her. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Mattie, but you have what it takes inside to stand on your own two feet. You don't have to allow yourself to be used by a man, wealthy or not, as some sort of sex slave. You're a person, a human being. You can work and earn your own money and do what you can to move up in life."
Mattie shook her head for a moment. "I appreciate what you're saying and I know you're right. But I'm not going to do the type of work you do — breaking my back on a low paying job and living from paycheck to paycheck. You said 'do what you can to move up in life'. I'm doing that now. Whenever Clyde gets tired of me and throws me away, someone else will eventually come by and pick me up."
Dellie slid her hand away. She couldn't believe her ears nor could she imagine that this woman could be so lost.
"I can tell that you're a nice person, Dellie, but you and I are nothing alike. I might have been poor, but I'm a classy lady. Otherwise, Clyde Dragos wouldn't have given me a second glance from the get-go. I'm truly grateful for the advice, but I'll pass."
Dellie sat back, then slowly stood to her feet. "Okay. Well, you take care of yourself. Have a good day."
"And you do the same." Mattie took another puff of her cigarette as Dellie walked off.
* * * *
"You should report that punk to the police when we get home and sue his ass off! How dare he threaten your job?" Gwen was furious after Dellie filled her in. They were in Gwen's cabin, sitting on her bed.
"I'm not trying to add fuel to the fire, Gwen. I need this job," Dellie responded. "I'm thinking that once I can get a meeting with his father, I'd be okay. He's always seemed like a fair and good man. Don't know where he got that son of his from."
"How on earth do you think you'd get an appointment with the old man? That's close to impossible, Dell. You know that! When Weathers set up all those people to be fired, none of them was able to get a meeting with Dragos. So much for being fair and good!"
"You're right, but I will. Somehow, I will."
Gwen was stupefied. "As much as that guy insulted your intelligence and as easy as it is for you to get a good lawyer to take on this case pro bono and sue the pants off Junior, you're worrying more about the company's reputation and a job that currently pays little to nothing?"
"It helps to pay the bills," Dellie retorted.
"Helps is the operative word, Dell. You're talking divorce now. If Rob moves out, how can your salary take care of all the bills?" Gwen was deathly serious.
"I'll do my best. I'll manage."
Gwen shook her head contemplatively. Clearly, Dellie hadn't figured any of this out, from her impending divorce to her decision not to publicly rat out Junior. She had to make her see one way or the other.
Chapter Eight
Captain Bruce Arahna sat up in bed and pushed the automated button that drew back the curtains of the large, rectangular window. He was sweating profusely again, just like the night before and the night before that. Moving in closer to the window, he rubbed his eyes and peered out at the sea. Nothing was in plain sight, other than the usual brush of waves. However, it was the seventh night and the seventh time he had dreamed that same dream.
"I don't know…" he muttered, "must be losing it."
He got up and walked to the bathroom, and with every step, the anxiety associated with the events he had seen in his mind's eye grew frighteningly stronger. He took a leak, washed his hands, then looked into the mirror. Even he had to admit that he wasn't quite looking like himself lately. His eyes were a little off — somewhere between light pink and off-white, and slight bags had crept beneath them. After taking in very little sleep each night before he dreamed that dream again, only to pitch up when it got to the worst part, he did the usual: Washed his face and got dressed to join Dwight in the bridge.
When he walked in, Dwight was sipping coffee.
"Had another rough night?" the young man asked.
"Yeah. Something like that," Bruce replied, tiredly.
"Trust me, Captain. I've got everything under control. You should try and get some more rest."
"I know you do." His eyes scanned the vast sea.
"Why do you do that?" Dwight asked.
"What?"
"Every night when you come back, it seems like you're looking for something out there. What're you looking for, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Nothing." Bruce shook his head. "Nothing at all."
"Are you sure it's nothing important? Nothing that I should know about?" Dwight probed.
"No. Nothing important."
* * * *
Weathers decided to hold a meeting with staff members the next morning. Junior and Mattie were not present, and neither were the engineers.
The me
eting was held on the main floor near the Evans' coffee shop. Francesca and Ben Evans were not required to be there as they were not technically "Dragos staff". However, they stood quietly near the front door of their shop to eavesdrop, just the same.
Dellie and Gwen stood together and listened as Weathers rambled on about 'performance' and what the company expected, not forgetting to remind them all about what was at stake.
"Dellie Hayworth!" he called out after he had given his rather long and irritating speech. "You'll be switching to janitorial duties for the ninth floor, recreational areas that are currently in use, and bridge for the remainder of the journey."
"Pardon me, sir?" Dellie answered back through the crowd, making her way to the front and wondering why she was informed of a new task in that fashion.
Iris Higginbotham, who was standing alone, looked over at her. The woman in her early thirties didn't look like she weighed more than ninety pounds and could pass for a little school girl. The ninth floor was her assigned area.
"What? You didn't hear me the first time?" Weathers barked at Dellie after she arrived up front.
"I wasn't sure I did," Dellie retorted. "Is anyone else here being transferred to janitorial duties? This is the third switch for me in a week. First, it was kitchen help, then I was told to take on the dining room as well, now you're switching me to janitorial. May I ask why?"
"Need you be reminded, Mrs. Hayworth, of the meeting we had before any of us boarded this ship? Everyone here has taken on a duty different from what they did at the shipyard. You were well informed of this. You are all being cross-trained, so consider yourself fortunate to have been trained in three different areas during this short journey. Report below in ten minutes. That's all." He turned away and called out Iris. "Iris Higginbotham, you are to report to Chef Baker. You'll be on kitchen duties until further notice." A smile stretched across Iris' pale, sunken face.
Weathers ended the meeting and promptly went his way.
Gwen met up with Dellie after the meeting. She could see the disappointment on her face. "It's just absurd," she told her. "I don't trust the guy."
"Neither do I," Dellie replied. "You are aware whose cabin is on the ninth floor, aren't you?"
From the expression on Gwen's face, Dellie could tell that a light switch had gone off inside her head. "My goodness! They've planned this!"
Dellie nodded. "He wants to make the remainder of my trip as miserable as possible."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Junior thinks it's either his way or he forces me out somehow, but that will happen over my dead body." She started to walk off.
"Where are you going?" Gwen asked.
"To the lower deck - janitorial."
"Okay. See you later."
"Yeah." Dellie didn't look back.
As the employees headed back to work, most were somewhat anxious as Weathers' didn't seem particularly pleased with anyone's performance. They all knew what that could mean.
Walking toward the stairway, Dellie heard a spphh twice and saw that Francesca Evans was trying to get her attention from the door of the coffee shop. Dellie looked at her skeptically as the woman was aggressively motioning for her to come over.
She went to her.
"Oh, poor dear! We heard everything," Francesca acknowledged. Ben, standing nearby nodded in agreement. "That's an awful man putting you on janitorial duties like that. I don't like his attitude."
"Neither do I," Ben remarked.
Dellie sighed. "There's nothing I can do about it. I just have to roll with the punches until we get back."
"I know dear," Francesca said pitifully. "You don't know how many times I see him walking past this shop with his nose high up in the air as if he's smelling something up there and with his hands folded behind his back like he's somethin' special. I keep wishing he would trip over something and Ben and I could get a good laugh at him."
Dellie couldn't resist a smile.
"Don't worry about it," Ben said. "I've seen people just like him in action all my life. Sooner or later, reality hits them and they realize they weren't the best thing smokin'. Usually, by then, it's too late; their time is up."
"Ben's right, dear. Don't you hurt your pretty, little head. One day, providence might have it where you own your own business one day like we do and you won't have to put up with anyone's crap. Even if it's a janitorial business, it'll be yours and you'll make it a success!" Francesca nodded.
Dellie's mood lightened as she noticed the sparkle in their eyes. "Thanks so much, both of you. I feel better."
Francesca smiled widely, feeling like she had accomplished yet another great deed. "You have a good day, dear."
Dellie thanked them again before heading off to face Weathers a second time.
* * * *
Floyd Weathers gave Dellie precise instructions of what her duties consisted of. On top of other things, he insisted that the bridge be cleaned at eight o'clock every night. Marian, the head janitress for the journey and also at the shipyard, walked her through what needed to be done.
"Just take it in strides," Jack said to her as Dellie collected the cleaning supplies from the long, dark closet after Marian walked off. Surprisingly, it was the first time he had spoken to her since they boarded the ship.
"Haven't seen you around that much, except some nights at the pool," she replied, reaching for a mop.
"I'm stationed downstairs in engineering. Guess they decided to toss me where my mechanical skills could be utilized. But I'm learning a lot from the other guys down there. Making sure everything's operating properly, like the engine, is serious stuff, especially when out here at sea."
"Yeah. Serious stuff," Dellie agreed. "That's a tell-tale sign that your job is pretty safe. You may even land a promotion." Talking to Jack this time around felt better to her, somehow; maybe due to all the stress she suddenly found herself under.
"I could really use one — a promotion, I mean," Jack replied. "I got three kids to support and a wife. We're common law, but we function just like any other couple."
"I'm sure." Dellie answered.
"Things have been tight for us recently, so every extra buck I can earn would be a good help."
"I know what you mean."
Jack paused for a moment, then said: "Looks like Weathers' got it in for you. Three switches in a week?"
"It's not him. He's just following orders." Dellie instantly regretted the last statement. She wanted to put her foot in her mouth.
"From who?" Jack asked, curiously.
"No one. Forget I said that, okay? It's nothing, really." She placed the last item in her trolley and started to leave.
"Hey!" He called behind her.
She stopped and looked back.
"You're all right?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Must be going now."
Jack had a strange feeling inside. He didn't know Dellie that well, but figured a blind man could see that something wasn't quite right.
Chapter Nine
Dellie stood outside the cabin for what seemed like hours. She dreaded having to see his face again, but finally forced herself to knock.
The door opened instantaneously as if he sensed she was there. "Why, howdy! Great to see you, Miss Dellie!" Junior exclaimed.
Dellie could see that whatever drugs or booze he had ingested, perhaps the night before, hadn't totally worn off as yet. She glanced past him and spotted Mattie lying on the couch. She appeared to be sleeping.
"I'm here to clean. Would you like for me to come back when you're out for breakfast or something?" she asked.
He put his left arm up against the door frame. "Have you given any more thought to what we discussed the other day?" He whispered in her ear. She smelt the sour scent of liquor.
Clearing her throat, she coolly replied: "No, I haven't because there's nothing for me to think about. I'm not a cheap whore."
He stared at her and she felt his disgust towards her like before, but this time, he contained his f
ury. "Well, come right on in." He waved.
His invitation felt sinister, but she assented, nonetheless, and went about to tidy the rather plushy stateroom. She looked down at Mattie who was stretched across the couch wearing only a brassiere and panties. One of the bra straps was hanging halfway down her slender arm. Dellie could tell that she was completely stoned and was doing, perhaps, the best thing she could do for herself at that very moment.
Clothing and shoes, wine bottles, trash and little, clear plastic containers which held much to Dellie's imagination were strewn across the floor. She didn't remember the place looking that bad when she was there before. The sloppiness of the room seemed like overkill to her and it harbored an offensive smell that made her reluctant to enter the bathroom. She avoided that area for now and tried to work as quickly as possible to get out of there as she felt Junior's eyes boring into her like the pointed end of heated spears. He said nothing more the whole while, but found a comfortable spot on the couch next to Mattie with his legs stretched out in front of him and arms folded.
The bathroom would be her last spot to tackle, though she realized for some people in her position, it would have been their first. Upon opening the door, she felt like she had been hit with a wave of the absolute foulest odor imaginable. The toilet lid was shut and she dreaded what was inside awaiting her inspection. Wearing blue, plastic gloves, Dellie grudgingly went over to the toilet and quickly raised the lid. On doing so, she staggered back a bit after seeing a heap of feces that she felt no single human could have dumped at one time. She then heard bellowing laughter near the bathroom's doorway. Junior was standing there getting a huge kick out of the horror he had witnessed on Dellie's face after she had lifted the lid.
"We'll see how much you enjoy cleaning duty on the ninth floor, pretty face," he said after calming down enough to speak.
Haunted Cruise: The Shakedown Page 5