Real Mermaids Don't Sell Seashells (3 page)

“We should find out about this paddleboarding excursion,” Cori said, looking through a brochure she'd nabbed at the airport tourist kiosk. “And windsurfing. And sea kayaking. Oh, and they have this thing called Snuba diving!”

So much for my plan to chillax.

That's when Sticky Boy #2 upchucked all over my Chuck Taylor sneakers.

Turned out (after ditching my beloved “upchucked” Chucks, washing my feet in the ocean, and rooting through my luggage to find a pair of flip-flops) that the Eutopia Resort didn't have a record of our reservation after all.

“You have no room for us?” Dad yelled. I wasn't sure if he was yelling because he was angry or because his ears were still blocked from the airplane, but either way, people looked over from the hotel lobby bar and a burly-looking security guard came over to investigate the situation.

“Sir, there is no reservation on file for a Dalrymple Baxter. I've checked several times,” the hotel attendant said, looking up from her computer.

“I'd bet you any money that Taylor 'n Tyler and their entourage stole our reservation,” Cori whispered to me as we saw the large group of tanned, bleached, sunglassed people follow an army of bellhops pushing carts full of Gucci and Prada luggage toward the bank of elevators.

“Do you really think that's them?” I asked, squinting through the crowded lobby.

Cori flipped open an
OK!
Magazine to a photograph of Taylor Ariella holding an oversized bag with a dust mop of a puppy in it. It was the same kind of dog our “Taylor” was carrying in her handbag.

“That doesn't prove anything,” I said, inspecting the picture, though it sure did look like her. “Those guys over there could just be some rich kids on school break.”

But still, if Taylor 'n Tyler and their crew
did
get us kicked out of our hotel, that was so
not
cool.

“But I have the confirmation number right here!” Dad continued to yell, showing the paper he'd brought with him from our travel agent with all the reservation information.

“I'm sorry, sir,” the hotel attendant repeated for the umpteenth time while signaling for the security guard, “but your yelling is upsetting the other guests and there really isn't anything else I can do for you. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

The refrigerator-sized security guard sprang into action and started loading our luggage onto a cart to escort us out the door.

“Number! Confirmation number!” Dad insisted, waving the paper in the air.

“Come on, Dalrymple,” Mom said quietly, taking his arm. “We'll figure something else out.”

After a series of phone calls to our travel agent, which probably cost as much in cell-phone fees as the plane tickets to the Bahamas, we finally got rebooked at a smaller hotel down the road.

“The Asylum?” I said as we rolled our suitcases up the driveway after walking the half mile or so from the Eutopia. The straps of my flip-flops were already starting to make my feet ache.

“A side of what?” Dad asked, tapping the side of his head with the heel of his hand as though trying to dislodge something from his ear canal.

“The Alyssum,” Mom yelled to Dad, giving me a look. “It's a type of flower.”

“Oh,” he replied, still not looking like he'd heard what she said. Honestly, he'd be screaming his vows if his ears didn't get unplugged in time for the wedding.

“Well, judging by that gang of college frat boys I saw earlier, it might as well be an asylum,” I said.

“As long as there's a pool and a beach, that's all we need, right?” Cori asked brightly.

“Exactly. It'll be fine,” Mom reassured me. “But since the Eutopia lost all our reservations, I need to rebook all the wedding plans too. The flowers, the wedding officiate to perform the ceremony, the music—I don't know how I'm going to get it all done in time.”

I gave myself twenty mental lashes for being such a dork. Mom needed me to step up to the plate and help her out with the wedding, not complain about something we didn't have any control over.

“We'll help you. Don't worry.” I put my arm around her as we walked through the lobby, trying to reassure her.

“Yeah, I bet we can find lots of stuff at the Straw Market for decorations,” Cori suggested. “Isn't this the other hotel where Faye stopped on her way to our old hotel? We can still catch a ride with her if we hurry.”

Mom smiled and glanced over to Dad as he got us checked in to our rooms. The clerk at the registration desk looked wide-eyed as Dad yelled out our names to him, making sure he'd spelled them correctly.

“Maybe I'll send Dad into town with you to keep him out of trouble,” Mom suggested, “and I'll stay back at the hotel to see if they can help us pull this wedding together in time for Saturday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.

•••

We grabbed a quick bite before the hotel staff finished clearing up the lunch buffet and managed to catch Faye on her next run to the airport. Faye dropped Cori, Dad, and me off at the top of the lane leading down to the waterfront, where we met Rayelle so we could all walk down to the Straw Market together.

“My run to the airport should have me back here at about five. Okay?” Faye called out from the driver's seat.

“Don't worry, Mamie. I have my phone if we need you,” Rayelle called out to her as we started down the lane.

“Remind me to look for a ring for Lainey, and I hope I can find one of those Pandora knockoff bracelets, and oh, do you think they'll have Gucci purses?” she asked Rayelle.

“I think Cori has found her people,” I joked with Dad.

“Yeah, lots and lots of people here, eh?” Dad said as he nodded toward the crowds of tourists weaving in and out of market stalls. His hearing was starting to come back but he was still losing a bit in translation.

“I'm just trying to absorb as much of the local culture as I can. Oh, cute!” Cori said as she skipped ahead. A huge, green frog statue greeted us at an ocean-side restaurant called Señor Frog's at the beginning of the market's booths.

“That's the biggest frog I've ever seen,” I said, following close on her heels.

“I wonder if they have fancy drinks with umbrellas!” Dad said.

“I bet they do,” I said with a smile. Dad had been joking for days that he couldn't wait to get away from his work as an engineer and sit by the ocean with a fancy tropical drink. “Why don't you sit on the balcony by the harbor and order one while Cori, Rayelle, and I look around the market?”

The stalls of the Straw Market stretched along the waterfront from Señor Frog's onward for a full city block.

“I don't know,” Dad said skeptically. “It's not like we're in Port Toulouse anymore. What if you get lost?”

“Don't worry, Mr. Baxter. They'll be completely safe with me,” Rayelle said, trying to reassure him.

“Oh look!” Cori climbed onto a massive yellow Adirondack chair in the front of the restaurant. The chair looked like it could fit all four of us comfortably. “Get on, guys! I'll ask that man over there to take our picture.”

Cori hopped off the chair and was halfway down the sidewalk, about to ask a touristy-looking middle-aged guy to take our picture with her phone, when Rayelle chased after her and grabbed her arm.

“Are you crazy?” Rayelle asked.

“What?” Cori's eyes widened.

“You can't just go around asking any random guy to take your picture. He could take off with your phone or hassle you, or who knows what,” Rayelle said. “So, keep your phone and wallet zipped up in a pocket of your bag and don't set it down anywhere.”

“I thought you just told my dad it was completely safe,” I said.

Dad looked from Rayelle to me to Cori, trying to follow our conversation.

“It is! But you don't have to be stupid about it,” Rayelle said.

I was a bit surprised at how blunt Rayelle was, but I decided her no-BS approach was kind of nice compared to some gossip hounds I knew back in Port Toulouse who were nice enough to your face but talked trash about you behind your back. Like those ladies yammering about Mom and Dad at Dooley's Drugstore, for instance.

Dad must have thought so too, because he smiled brightly at Rayelle as though he'd gotten the gist of what we were talking about.

“Well, it sounds like you're in good hands,” Dad said, taking a seat on Señor Frog's patio. “Enjoy your shopping and meet me back here in an hour.”

“Oh,” Cori said as we stepped down from Señor Frog's patio onto the busy Straw Market sidewalk. “Is there a place where we can get our hair braided?”

“Yeah,” I pulled my ponytail over my shoulder, inspecting all the split ends. “Do you think my hair would stay in braids? I've always wanted to do that.”

“My cousin braids hair on the beach by your hotel,” Rayelle said. “I can take you there tomorrow if you want.”

“That would be great!” Cori said.

A group of young people walked around with shell necklaces, trying to attach them around our necks.

“A gift from our island,” one of the girls said.

“Oh, thank you. That's so nice.” I moved my hair over so she could attach the necklace.

“Buzz off, Charla,” Rayelle said, coming to my side. She whispered in my ear, “They only tell you it's free and then guilt you into buying it. Among other things.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid.

Charla gave Rayelle a sneering look.

“You're so brave here with your boyfriend nearby, huh, Raybies? Get a grip.” Charla nudged one of her friends and laughed at her own joke then headed off to find another customer.

“Charming girl. How do you know her?” I asked.

“Just a girl from school.” Rayelle grabbed my arm to come with her. She looked over her shoulder as we walked and muttered. “Going nowhere fast.”

“The necklace business must be good because that is either a very expensive watch she's wearing or an excellent knockoff,” Cori whispered to me as we continued along the main strip.

“Any other Straw Market secrets we should know about?” I asked. I wasn't much of a shopper but maybe I could find the perfect vacation T-shirt to add to my extensive ratty T-shirt collection. Then I could really say, “Been there. Got the T-shirt!” if anyone asked if I'd ever been to the Bahamas.

“Just look at everything first before you buy it because you can get the same thing at different places for different prices. My mama's booth is at the other end.” Rayelle led the way through the lane of colorful booths lining the Straw Market until we reached her mom's. She was a younger version of Faye and was busy embroidering a flower on a straw fan.

“That's really pretty,” Cori said.

“Thank you, dear,” Rayelle's mom said. “Things are a bit slow for now, Rayelle. Why don't you show your new friends around?”

“Thanks, Mama. I won't be long.”

I tried to keep up with Rayelle and Cori as we squeezed around booths filled with glass-beaded bracelets, bobbleheaded tin painted turtles, and straw wall hangings, but those girls were on a mission. I spotted a gray jersey T-shirt with a picture of the globe being sprinkled with peas that said “Peas on Earth” and thought I might actually buy something on this trip, but there were none in my size, reminding me why I hated shopping. Drat.

A flash of blue water appeared on my right between the booths where several water taxis waited for passengers. Peach and ivory conch shells were lined up on a colorful woven blanket along the edge of the pier. The shells reminded me of Mom and the Mermish stuff we'd been through in the past couple of months. She would probably really love those for the wedding, I decided.

“Cori, what do you think?” I asked, motioning to the shells. But I'd lost her in a jungle of knockoff Gucci and Chanel purses.

“I think I may have died and gone to Accessory Heaven,” Cori said as she peeked out between draping fabrics. She pulled a hand-dyed bathing-suit cover-up from the rack and wrapped it around her waist. “Oh, this one would look amazing with the purple bikini I brought. Or do you think this one would be better?” She pointed to a tie-dyed version of the same thing.

“You're asking me? You must be desperate.”

“You're right—I'll ask Rayelle,” Cori replied with a joking smile. Then she turned when a teal wrap caught her eye. “Or maybe this one!”

“I can see this is going to take a while,” I replied, trying not to sound too bored. Cori was having a blast and who was I to rain on her parade? Especially since it sounded like she was trying to get her mind off the Trey situation she'd left back home. “I'm going back there to look at those shells. Be back in five.”

I backtracked a few booths and squeezed through the narrow passage that led to the edge of the pier. Only one canopied water taxi remained, bobbing at its lines. The driver called out to see if I needed a ride.

“No thanks!” I waved to him and smiled.

He shoved off and sailed toward another part of the waterfront to try his luck somewhere else just as a cruise ship blew its long, loud horn, practically scaring me out of my flip-flops. I took a deep breath to get my heart rate back to normal.