Bossy (48 page)

“Joyce!” I laugh and blush even harder.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve felt that way about a man exactly four times.” Her grin is sly, like she’s waiting for me to make a connection.

“And you were married how many times?” I see where she’s going with this, but just to be sure.

“Exactly, dear.” She chuckles. “You’re so much like me when I was your age, except they’d never have let us wear tiny bathing suits like yours.” She gazes out over the ocean, lost in thought for a moment. “I absolutely could have, just so that’s clear. I was lovely back then.”

I laugh at the certainty in her voice. It was not a matter to be debated, obviously. “I’m sure you were. I bet you had the guys falling at your feet no matter how you dressed.”

She purses her lips, looking unamused. “Are you teasing me, young lady?”

“Absolutely not.” Hopefully, my smile looks friendly as intended and not patronizing.

Her lips stay tight a moment longer, as if she’s weighing my response. Apparently it’s good enough, since her smile returns. “In that case, do you really want to live the rest of your life wondering what might have been?” She eases back onto her deck chair and pulls her hat into her eyes. “Think about it. Life’s too short. Trust me.”

“Did you ever regret it?” I ask quietly.

“My husbands?”

I nod.

“There were times I had my doubts, but looking back?” Her wrinkled face goes soft and distant. “Not a moment, even the bad ones.” She looks like she wants to be alone with the memories, so I turn to my own thoughts.

I feel a little more resolved to work something out with Gavin, but what? Marry him? I already tried that and it didn’t really work out. Blowing the hair out of my eyes, I lean back into the deck chair and close my eyes.

One of us is going to have to make the first move, but will it be me?

I
’m the shark, not the minnow, but someone forgot to tell these fancy-ass bitches that. Somehow word’s gotten out that my sham of a marriage is in trouble, and now I’m practically holding fucking auditions for the next Mrs. Caldwell. The girls won’t leave me the hell alone. In the bar, on deck. Hell, one actually knocked on the door to my room last night. It’d be fucking nice some days to not be a Caldwell.

I’ve barely thought the thought when a bleach blonde with balloon tits crammed into a skimpy red bikini slides onto the stool next to me, orders one of those chick drinks with an umbrella and a long straw. She sucks on it like it’s a cock, while she grins mischievously and looks at me through her long eyelashes.

I make a point of turning my back to her while I sip my scotch. What’s wrong with me? Only a few weeks ago, I would’ve been all over that. Drag her to my suite, fuck her silly and that’s it. No strings, no obligations. Just fucking. Hit it and quit it. Buy her a little something nice, like maybe a top that actually fits, and she’d be happy as a clam.

Now? I’m not even fucking interested.

Apparently my cold shoulder’s obvious enough, since the blonde stomps away with her drink, probably looking for someone who’ll play her games.

It’s all Angie’s fault. She broke me.

For the first time, someone made me work for it. And the biggest fucking joke? When I thought I won, turns out I lost. She won, because she’s out there enjoying herself and I’m in here with my brain stuck on the one woman who wants nothing to do with me.

It’s like I wake up, think of Angie, jerk off, take a shower, think of Angie, jerk off, go out, think of Angie, and while I don’t jerk off, I think about going back to my suite to take care of business. Because she’s in under my fucking skin.

And not only is she having the time of her life without me. She’s going places. Fucking med school. What am I doing? Drinking. Go me. Maybe I should’ve stuck it out in business school. If Dad were here he’d be on my case and shouting “I told you so.”

Speaking of Dad, I make another attempt to call out and fix the shitstorm I accidentally threw Marie into. I’ve been trying since Angie told me about it, but the connection has been down since the storm. I tap his picture and surprisingly enough the call goes out. Even more surprisingly, he picks up.

“What do you want?”

Great. He’d better fucking appreciate this. “Hi to you too, Dad.”

“Where the hell are you? I haven’t seen you since last week. Ever thought about showing up for work for a change?” Well, can’t say he doesn’t get straight to the point.

“You’d never believe it, Dad. I’m on a cruise. Isn’t that amazing?” I put a little extra cheer in my voice just to piss him off.

I’m a bit surprised when he laughs. “You took those tickets? What would you do that for? Did you bring a date?” He’s drinking something, and slurps it loudly, probably just to irritate me.

“Yeah, Dad. I did. I’m here with my shiny new sister. And good thing too, because wouldn’t it have been awkward to go stag to my own wedding. Angie made quite the blushing bride.”

The sound of him coughing as whatever he’s drinking catches in his throat makes my day. “You went through with
my
wedding? Hope you got my money’s worth. Just tell me I don’t need to get my lawyers involved.”

“Nah, we took off before he made us sign anything and trust me, nobody is expecting us to make it final now. But this isn’t about my fucked up pretend marriage, it’s about yours. It’s about the money that went to Marie’s flower shop.”

“Who told you about that?” He listens, letting out his breath slowly in a deep sigh as I explain. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how bad you made her look? How bad you made
me
look?”

“Yeah, you know what? I’d give you a lecture about being a paranoid fuck and too suspicious for your own good, but I’ll wait and let Angie do it since she does it so much better. Maybe she learned it from her mom. You’re in for a treat.” I roll my eyes, and for a moment I get a glimpse into how she sees me. “But yeah, Marie didn’t know anything about it, so don’t blame her.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll blame you. You do some of the stupidest fucking things, you know that? When are you going to grow up, Gavin?” He’s on a roll now. This is his favorite topic, how useless I am. “Speaking of Angie, you could do a hell of a lot worse than her. She works hard, she has goals, she reads. Books, Gavin. With words. You should try one some time.”

“She hates my fucking guts right now, but good to know you approve. I didn’t know all I had to do to impress you was to be literate. Maybe I’ll try one of these ‘books’ you speak of.” He can’t see my air quotes, but I’m sure he hears them in my voice.

“Gavin...” he sighs. “You’re too smart to keep playing dumb forever. One of these days you’re going to find something you care about. I just hope it happens before you fuck things up beyond repair.”

I could be wrong, but he almost sounds paternal. Maybe it’s the scotch. “What can I say? Like father like son. If you fix things with Marie, maybe there’s hope for me yet.” It’s weird. Despite it all, I think this is the closest we’ve had to a real conversation in years.

He laughs. “I think we’d get along a lot better if we weren’t so damned alike, Son.” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. “Thanks. Not for fucking up, but for letting me know. It sounds like I have some groveling to do.”

Yeah. Me too.

He hangs up without saying goodbye.

Are we really that alike? Suspicious, judgmental, quick to anger. Fuck. Guess I’ve learned from the best. I’ve spent so long running from what my father wants me to be that I didn’t even notice I was turning into him.

I don’t want to be that guy, but I’m not sure I know how to be anyone else.

Angie would tell it to me straight. She’d laugh and poke fun, but I’ve seen her talk about the people she cares about. She’s fucking loyal, and I could’ve had that. Instead I spit on it because I was too weak to deal with what it would mean if she was what she seemed to be.

Perfect. In a bitchy, sarcastic sort of way, but I’d get sick of anything else. I grin.

Perfect for me.

I drove her away, and I wasn’t lying. She probably hates me, but I have one thing working in my favor. The last of my scotch slides smoothly down my throat, and this time I don’t motion for another. I know where she is, and she’s not going anywhere until this cruise is over.

Time for plan B. Whatever the fuck that is.

A
loud thrum that doesn’t sound like typical engine noise invades the room. Is that a helicopter? Every time we heard one when I was little, my mother used to point it out and tell me to wave because it might be Daddy. I stopped waving long before he crashed, but I never stopped looking. Except now I look up and say a little prayer for the pilot when I see one.

I go out onto the balcony to look, just barely catching the blur of rotors from around the back of the ship. If I lean a bit over the rail I can see the tail as it swings around to land. I guess there’s a pad back there. Hopefully nobody’s sick.

The weather’s gorgeous though, so I push aside my melancholy thoughts and duck inside to put on my bikini and cover myself in sunblock. I haven’t run into Gavin yet since my talk with Joyce, but I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to him. I got a call from Mom last night letting me know everything was alright with her and
Herbie
again. Gavin must have talked to his dad, and no matter what happens with the two of us, I’m glad he manned up and fixed things with our parents.

I’m such a chicken. I should do the mature thing and find him, but I went to him last time. If he cared at all, he’d come to me this time, right? I refuse to chase him around the ship like I’m desperate for his attention.

Because I’m not. My life was just fine before he exploded into it and I’ll pick up the pieces again if I have to, but some wounds take longer to heal than others. I don’t know how he managed it, but the ache in my heart goes deep.

I’ve only barely gotten back outside on my balcony and settled on a lounge chair when the helicopter takes off again. This time I get a decent look. It’s totally black and looks like something out of a James Bond movie, except the logo on the body looks awfully familiar.
Caldwell?
My stomach twists. Did Gavin leave? Did he tell his father about the tickets and I’m about to get in huge trouble?

Oh shit.

I sit up and start to panic, not sure which situation is worse. That Gavin is so mad, or cares so little that he’d actually just leave, or that I’m about to be put in ship jail. Do ships have jails? The room phone rings and just about stops my heart.

OhGodOhGodOhGod.

“Hello?” My fingers barely touch the receiver, as if it might turn around and bite me.

“Mrs. Caldwell? Marie?” That name is haunting me, but if they are still calling me Marie, then they don’t know I’m faking it, right? Please be right.

“Yes, who’s this?”

The man on the other end laughs briefly. “It’s me, Captain Chuck. Don’t you recognize me? I’m hurt, well and truly, dear lady.”

I giggle nervously. “Of course, Chuck. I’m sorry. The sound is pretty fuzzy on my end, and I didn’t expect anyone to call. I’m sorry.”

“Not at all, Marie. I’ll have someone check the lines later.”

Great, now I feel guilty about giving someone extra work. “What’s going on?”

He hesitates. “We have... a bit of a situation down here.”

“Situation?” Panic pokes up its ugly head again.

“One that requires your presence immediately.”

Is this another one of the things that Gavin’s dad set up? Like the wedding wasn’t bad enough? “Are you sure I need to be there? I have no idea what this is about.”

“I’m afraid you do. I’ve already sent a steward to your room to fetch you. I think once you’re here you’ll agree that it was worth the bother.” I can almost hear his grin through the phone.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... “Do I need to wear anything special? Fancy dress or anything?” Call me suspicious, but getting married in my swimsuit has made me a little cautious about surprises.

“No, no need. Just come as you are.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll wait for the steward.”

Sorry, Chuck. One evening of underdressed fun is enough for me. I throw on a sundress over my suit and give my hair a quick check. There isn’t time for anything else before the steward is knocking at the door.

It’s the same kid from the other morning, the one who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off my chest when he came for our wakeup call. He looks a little disappointed, probably because I’m not hanging out of my shirt.

“Right this way, Mrs. Caldwell.”

He leads me to the elevator and we ride down in silence. It feels a little awkward, but it’s not like we have anything to say to each other. He’s just doing his job. It’s not his fault if I’m about to walk the plank. Leading the way through a stately section of the ship I haven’t seen yet, he finally stops in front of large shut double doors. The sign says LIBRARY LOUNGE. “Here you are, Mrs. Caldwell. The captain told me to tell you to go in, and that um... you won’t be disturbed.”

I nod, eyes wide. That sounds ominous.

P
utting my hand on the doorknob, I twist and open.

The ship’s library isn’t large, but when I enter the room, I can almost believe that I’m walking into an old-fashioned study. No fireplace, but the walls are lined with heavy wooden bookshelves and dark green textured wallpaper on what I can see of the walls. The carpet is plush and looks soft. It’s the kind of room that would make someone want to fire up a cigar or pipe if it weren’t for the NO SMOKING signs.

In the center of the room are several deep leather chairs. They look both comfortable and impressive, in a faux-antique sort of way. Sitting there in a perfectly tailored suit and looking for all the world like he actually belongs in a library, is Gavin. He stands up as soon as I enter, the suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and the powerful V form of his torso. He looks so good that I almost forget to wonder why he’s here, or why I’m here for that matter.

His face is unreadable. Is he nervous? That’s not like him. His usual smirk is hidden, but the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as I enter. It looks more uncertain than cocky. What isn’t uncertain is that he’s glad to see me, and that I’m happy I took a second to get ready before I came. His hungry gaze travels over me, and warmth spreads downwards with a familiar tingle.