by Gina LaManna
“Leaves time for this.” I pecked him on the cheek, and then made a dodge for the edge of the bed.
It took a few tries to break free, what with Anthony having the jump on me. I swear his arms flailed like octopus tentacles in every direction, dragging my body back to bed while I shrieked and squirmed with laughter.
By the time I escaped to the bathroom, we were both red-faced with giddiness, and a big huge part of me wanted to lock the two of us in this room and spend all day playing around together. I was simple. We were simple. I didn’t need a yacht.
But I’d go to the yacht because I had a friend. A good friend, and that’s the reason I had to leave Anthony with a toe-tingling kiss after I’d brushed my teeth, a sneak peek of what was to come later this evening.
“You’re evil,” Anthony said, still lying in bed as I tiptoed out of the shower and grabbed my clothes from the dresser. “Don’t stay out late tonight.”
I slipped into jeans and a pretty blouse, since I’d freeze my butt off if I wore a dress, and covered up with a parka afterward. It’d be extra windy on the lake.
Anthony still didn’t seem to be deterred, despite my layers of clothing.
“You’re crazy,” I told him. “I’m wearing a parka.”
“And I know what’s underneath.” He climbed out of bed and brushed a kiss against my hair. “Please don’t get in trouble today. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
***
With Meg, trouble was inevitable.
That had always been the case, and I never should’ve believed otherwise. Especially when she showed up in Patty, her old clunker, with all the seats completely full.
“You can hop in the trunk, or we can squish,” she called out the window. “The guest list grew.”
“Ah, the guest list,” I said, eyeing the passengers. “Of course.”
“Hi, dear!” Nora waved from the front seat. Vivian sat in the back, waving talon-like nails in my direction. Alessandra sat on the other side, the only one of the group not waving or looking otherwise enthusiastic.
“Hop in, Lace,” Vivian said, sliding out of the car. “You’re skinny. You can sit in the middle.”
“Oh, great, thank you. Best seat in the house,” I said, sidling past her and briefly mentioning that I could drive myself.
“Don’t be silly,” Meg waved a hand. “Look at how much fun we’re having. Right, ladies?”
A cheer went up from three of the five women, myself and Alessandra not included. I gave her a quick look, hoping she’d roll her eyes with me, but she was lost in her own fog.
She’d arrived back at the estate last night, sometime after my chat with Nora. When I’d finally come downstairs, Harold mentioned that Alessandra had returned home and retreated to her room already. He added that she preferred not to be interrupted. So, I’d gone home alone and fell asleep while waiting for Anthony.
“Here we go!” Meg cried once I’d gotten situated. “Happy Bachelorette Day, Lacey.”
She roared away from the house, pointing us toward the other side of the city. To the rest of the cars on the highway, we probably looked like a life-size game of Chubby Bunny—the dangerous game that involves shoving as many marshmallows into one’s mouth as possible. With puffy jackets all around, there was barely enough air to breathe, let alone to relax.
For the entire hour-long car ride.
When we finally arrived at our destination, Meg unlocked the doors, and we all sort of oozed out of the car. Vivian hopped out first, I sort of fell out after, and as always, Alessandra gracefully stepped out from the other side.
“Welp, here we are!” Meg gestured toward a dock. “Boat should be here anytime.”
“Anytime? I thought... I thought we were running late.”
I looked at my watch and, sure enough, we were thirty minutes later than the scheduled departure.
“Yeah, but the unexpected snow flurries slowed him down a bit,” Meg said. “Good thing the ice went out a few weeks ago—otherwise, we would’ve had to cancel!”
“Don’t tell me that’s the boat,” Vivian said, wrinkling her nose. She smelled like a perfume store, a whole bunch of whiffs that gave me a headache. Rings blinged from all her fingers, and her voice was just a little bit scratchy from years of talking and smoking, smoking and talking. “I thought y’all said this was fancy.”
“She did!” Nora gasped. “She said it would be like a spa on water.”
“Yeah,” Meg admitted. “Maybe I over exaggerated, but we needed guests at Lacey’s bachelorette party, or else that’s just sad. So maybe I stretched the truth a little bit to get you here, but it was for a good cause.”
Nobody really argued with Meg, which was sweet in a weird sort of way. Still, I felt bad the others had been bamboozled here under false pretenses.
“If anyone wants a ride home, I can call Anthony,” I said. “No pressure to stay.”
“Oh, there’s pressure. We don’t want to let Lacey down, do we?” Meg scanned the group with a critical eye. “Good. That’s what I thought. Now, let me go talk to Skipper, and we’ll be good to go.”
“Skipper?” Vivian said weakly. “I didn’t want to go on a nautical adventure, I just wanted a free manicure.”
“I love the water,” Nora said, her face a bit troubled. “I just don’t like the snow.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, because there wasn’t much else to say.
We waited for a few moments as Meg conversed with a hairy sort of dude who was probably named Skipper. He looked a bit like a knock-off surfer dude.
His hair was long, but instead of being all luscious and beautiful, it was a little puffy. His skin was a little bit too pale for a surfer, which made sense, seeing as it was still winter in Minnesota. And in place of the lean, muscular surfer’s torso, there was a bit of dad bod going on, complete with a tiny beer belly.
“Come on, ladies!” Meg waved for us to approach the dock. “Skipper here’s going to go over the rules.”
“Here are the rules, ladies and germs,” Skipper spoke, his voice also a not-quite-right version of surfer-dude. “Have fun!”
“No safety precautions?” I asked. “Life vests or anything?”
“This is a very chill cruise,” Skipper said. “Especially since we won’t be leaving the dock.”
“What?” Vivian snapped. “We’re not leaving the dock? What sort of cruise is that?”
“It’s too dangerous out there,” Skipper said. “Also, Meg said y’all just wanted to paint your nails and have a good time, so I figured instead of cancelling the trip, we can just do that while docked.”
“I ordered food,” Meg said. “And there will be entertainment. So basically, it’s the same thing. We’ll still be on the water, we just won’t really be changing the views a whole lot—but whoever cared about the views anyway?”
“Sounds great!” I chirped, trying my best to stay positive. After all, it wasn’t Meg’s fault the waters were too dangerous to sail today. Sure, maybe she could’ve done a bit more research, but after all, wasn’t the most important thing the company of each other?
The others seemed to agree, which made Meg and Skipper both incredibly happy.
“All aboard,” Meg shouted.
“That’s a train,” Skipper said, sounding cross. “This isn’t a train.”
We all climbed aboard, some of us easier than others, seeing as Vivian had pumps on that were at least six inches high. Even Nora in her old age was far more nimble than Vivian.
Once aboard, we took a minute to survey the space. It was smaller than I’d imagined, but I’d also had sort of this ocean liner image in my mind. All five of us women fit around the benches on the upper level, and Meg even ventured a climb toward the front of the boat.
“Land ahoy!” she shouted. Then turned around, scratched her head. “Though I suppose that’s a bit obvious since we’re still tied up.”
Next came the below deck tour, and that’s where things started
to get a little bit suspicious. A kitchen with bolted down appliances lined the center, and a small bathroom stood off to the side that smelled like fish. Next to the bathroom was a bedroom. The weird thing was that there were sheets on the bed, and they were just a little bit rumpled.
As I filtered through the rest of the boat, little personal touches—a pot in the sink there, a crumpled note in the trash can—all of it seemed just a little bit off.
And that’s when it hit me.
“Skipper...” I slowly turned to face him. “Do you live here?”
“Yes, ma’am!” He nodded, then chortled. “I work from home. Get it?”
“Whoops,” Meg said. “I didn’t read that bit of the paperwork.”
“I take out tours all the time,” Skipper said. “I’m licensed, don’t you worry. Now, shall we start with breakfast?”
I’d barely had time to process this strange man and his boat, but within minutes, he had bacon frying and eggs sizzling, and the smells melted me into my chair. The five of us sat around the kitchen table, watching as Skipper prepared a full-on breakfast feast.
“See?” Meg pointed out. “He cooks, too. Ain’t that neat?”
An hour later, I was surprised to admit that I was having a pretty decent time. The breakfast had been hearty and delicious, and the wind had subsided some, leaving us toasty below deck. Skipper had taken to whistling above deck and reading a book, popping downstairs to refill coffee now and again.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” I said, glancing around the table. “It means a lot you’d make it here for me.”
“Yeah,” Meg said, glaring at Vivian. “Even though some people were hard to convince, it worked out.”
“How was your day yesterday, Alessandra?” I asked. “We missed you last night.”
“It was fine,” she said, picking at her eggs. She was the only person who hadn’t scarfed her meal down.
“What’d you do?” Meg asked. “And more importantly, are you going to eat that?”
Alessandra pushed her plate toward Meg. “I went shopping.”
“That’s right.” I folded my hands under the table, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “By the way, we found your purse yesterday. I tried to call you, but couldn’t reach you. I left it on the table.”
“I found it, thank you. And sorry about that—my phone died.”
It was unlike her to be this quiet, almost impolite. I sensed there was more to the story than one no-show date, but she didn’t seem ready to volunteer information. So, I’d have to find out myself. “Buy anything good while you were out and about?”
“Turns out I’m not a huge retail therapy girl,” she said with a flicker of a smile. “I didn’t spend a single dollar. Crazy, right?”
“Yes,” Vivian said. “That’s nuts. Every girl needs retail therapy, so if you didn’t buy anything, you’re doing it wrong. Next time, bring me along. Which mall did you go to?”
“Maple,” Alessandra said. “Traffic was horrible.”
“Shut up,” Vivian said. “I was there yesterday! I can’t believe we missed each other.”
Meg caught my eye over the table, looking how I felt. Mystified. Nobody missed Vivian. She was the center of every party, and loud enough to draw attention from three blocks away.
“Oh, I thought I saw your car,” Alessandra said. “You drive the pink one, right?”
“It’s not pink anymore!” Vivian’s temper was notching up as we spoke. “That jerk-off husband of mine painted it black. Then he went away with the boys for the weekend. Just you wait until I get my hands on Joey. That little prick.”
The warmth that’d built up during breakfast slowly began to slip away. A gust of wind stilled conversation as it howled inside, sending a shudder through all of us.
Waves rocked the boat with a vengeance, or as much vengeance as possible while still attached to the dock. The wind, the waves, the greasy bacon—all of it was a little too much, and the first tendrils of queasiness gripped my stomach.
“Are we ready for the entertainment?” Meg clapped her hands, drawing the quiet conversations to a close. “It was custom hired for Lacey.”
“Oh, gee,” I said. “I’m actually not sure if I’m feeling up for entertainment at the moment—”
“Hit it, boys!” Meg whistled, and the lights went dark.
Next came the green fluorescent sheen of glow sticks. Then the music.
With the beat of the music came footsteps making their way down the ladder, and the disturbing view of a man wearing nothing except for a pair of too-short swim trunks with a cake resting across his arms.
I shielded my eyes. Apparently, the entertainment was Skipper himself, and he’d lost a few too many layers of clothing.
“Make it stop,” I said, staring at my plate of mostly eaten bacon. My stomach lurched more wildly by the second. The mix of a shirtless Skipper and the tossing of the boat was threatening to send the bacon right back where it came from. “Please, Meg. I am not in the mood for dancing, or... whatever Skipper’s trying to do.”
“Skipper, can it,” Meg snapped. She looked equally confused, and doubly annoyed. “Put your shirt on and turn down the music.”
“But this is part of the show.” He did a hip twirl that almost put me over the edge. “You asked me to be the entertainment.”
“I asked if you’d bring down a surprise cake, not jump out of one.”
“But Skipper doesn’t back down from a challenge,” he said, purring as he referred to himself in the third person. “This Skipper brings the life to the party. Made this cake myself—part of the package.”
Meg gave me a helpless look. “I’m sorry. I ordered a cake and asked him to bring it down as a surprise. Apparently, he thought I meant something different.”
“Look, there’s nothing wrong with exotic dancing if that’s your cup of tea,” I told him. “But not while you’re holding dessert. The cake didn’t do anything to you.”
Skipper looked a bit depressed, so I tried to apologize, but I was feeling too sick to open my mouth. Better not to say anything at all.
“Put your shirt on, Skipper, and we’ll all forget this happened,” Meg said. “Bring the cake here, please.”
Skipper carried the cake over to the table and, I’ll give him credit, it was a big cake. It lost points for presentation, however, since he’d piled ice cream right on top of it.
“I gave up ice cream for Lent,” I said weakly. “I can’t eat any of this.”
“Oh, don’t cry!” Skipper patted me on the back. “I can make another cake.”
His beer belly jiggled a little, and got just a tad too close to my face as he tried to comfort me. It was too much.
My breakfast lurched, and I was a goner. The rocking of the boat, Skipper’s bare chest, the ice cream cake that I couldn’t touch for thirty-something more days...all of it roiled in my stomach, and the next thing I knew, my breakfast appeared all over Skipper’s sandals.
“Let it out,” he said, patting my back while the rest of the girls shrunk away. “I have this effect on women. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”
“Put your freaking shirt on, Skipper,” Meg said. “And get the poor woman a barf bag!”
I slid out of the breakfast nook and did my best to sort of clean up, but Skipper was too drenched in everything for me to be of much help. What we both needed was a shower.
“Sorry, I think I’m going to head home,” I told the girls. “I can call for a ride if you want to stay, but I’m afraid I won’t be much fun for the rest of the day.”
“We’ll accompany you,” Meg said quickly. “But what about Patty? She might prefer if you’re strapped to her roof, seeing as you have bacon all over your clothes.”
“I think I have a solution,” Skipper said, digging around in his cupboards. “What do you think of this?”
***
“I can’t believe you guys made me wear this,” I said, once we were all situated in the car. “It’s forty degrees
outside, and it’s made of plastic.”
“It’s shabby chic,” Nora said. “I think you could really bring it back in style. You do have the body for it.”
“It’s a garbage bag.” I picked at the edges of the plastic around my body. “I have a body that apparently looks good in Hefty. I’m wearing Hefty as clothing, I’m getting wrinkles, and I vomited at my bachelorette party.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re doing things right when you put it like that,” Meg said. “Just don’t tell anyone you vomited at eleven in the morning and didn’t have a drop to drink, and you’ll have people thinking it was a wild party.”
Alessandra remained quiet, and Vivian was busy wrinkling her nose and pushing her body as far away from me as possible. Nora mostly hummed to herself and picked crumbs out of a huge piece of cake that Skipper had packed for her snack.
Meg drove, and I squished into the middle again. Which wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being strapped to the roof. The rest of my clothes were under lock and key in the trunk, and would probably best be incinerated.
Luckily, I’d thought to grab my phone from my clothes before they’d been locked away for all of eternity. Halfway back to the estate, it rang.
Clay.
While I didn’t love the idea of taking a possibly sensitive phone call amid a car filled with four other nosy women, I needed the distraction, and I didn’t want to wait. So, I answered.
“Screw Bob,” Clay greeted me. “I figured it out.”
“What?” I asked, hoping the rest of the car couldn’t overhear the conversation. “I don’t understand.”
“The Zebra.”
“We already have a name and an address,” I told him. “Sorry, but Bob beat you to it.”
“Yes, but can Bob do this?”
“What? Clay, we’re on the phone. I can’t see anything.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I’m going to text you something.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the screen. An image was uploading, and I waited until it cleared. I had to do a double take once it did.
“Clay,” I said, letting my voice fill up with patience before I continued speaking. “What is that?”