Santa Cruise Read online

As Frankie predicted to herself, one of them was wearing navy-blue polka dots. It was Amy, with a miniskirt tied with a sash and a white tank top. She had a white melamine bracelet and matching earrings. Open-toed booties completed her cute, funky look.

  “You look adorable,” Rachael commented. “No fashion police necessary.”

  As the four of them started toward the elevator, Peter was exiting his stateroom. “Good evening, ladies. You all look lovely.” He stopped for a second. “Is it OK that I compliment you? One never knows these days. Everyone being all PC and the rest.”

  “You can compliment me all you want.” Rachael was the first to answer.

  “Thank you, Peter. You look quite dashing yourself.” Frankie was being sincere. She guessed Peter to be around forty. Thin, in an elegant way. Not too skinny. More sinewy. He had a full head of dark hair with a touch of gray at his temples. He was wearing a blue pinstripe button-down shirt with navy slacks.

  “You all look so tropical,” Peter noted. “I’m afraid I’m still looking a little too corporate.”

  “Nonsense. You look fine,” Nina added.

  “Heading to the meet and greet?” he asked.

  “We are indeed. Care to walk with us, or have we scared you off?” Frankie was half joking.

  “I’d be pleased to walk with you. Where are you ladies from, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Rachael took the lead. “I’m from Ridgewood, New Jersey. Nina is from LA, Amy from Santa Clara, and Frankie lives in New York City. We grew up together in Ridgewood and decided to vacation together. And you?”

  “I’m originally from Chicago, but I now live in Auburn, Massachusetts,” he replied.

  “What do you do for a living?” Rachael was quick to cut to the chase.

  “Boring stuff really.” Peter smiled.

  “What kind of boring stuff?” Amy asked, as the five meandered down the long corridor.

  “I’m an accountant. Can’t you tell by the shirt and pants?” Peter said in a self-deprecating way.

  The women chuckled. Amy was next to speak. “Well, I work in bioengineering. Can’t you tell by my pink hair?”

  Peter chuckled. “I never connected pink hair to bioengineering. Obviously, I need to get out more often.”

  “A man with a sense of humor,” Frankie remarked. “We may just keep you.”

  “Don’t scare the guy away,” Rachael jumped in.

  Peter gave a light laugh. “You ladies seem like a lot of fun. I just might take you up on that offer.”

  “You can be our wingman,” Rachael added.

  “And you ladies can be mine. I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s a bit intimidating,” Peter admitted.

  “You’ve got that right,” Nina quipped. “We figured there was safety in numbers. If we got stuck in any uncomfortable circumstances, we could bail each other out.”

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into this trip,” he remarked. “I did this at the last minute. I decided that I didn’t want to spend another New Year’s by myself watching Ryan Seacrest make a fool of himself. I thought being with a bunch of drunken strangers would be more interesting,” he scoffed.

  “So, have you picked out any activity for tonight?” Frankie asked.

  “Karaoke is definitely out of the question. I’m a pretty good dart player, though, I must admit.”

  “Really?” Nina asked curiously. Darts was something they would play on the set when they had a lot of free time. She couldn’t remember who had started it, but quite often they would be outside their dressing-room trailers tossing darts. After one of the production assistants got nicked in the foot by a stray dart, someone brought a magnetic board to the set. Every once in a while, someone’s photo would be on the bull’s-eye. “I’m not a bad dart thrower myself.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd to have something lethal on the first night?” Peter remarked.

  “Good point. Maybe they’re magnetic darts. We used them at work,” Nina added.

  “What kind of work requires a dartboard?” Peter asked quizzically.

  “The kind I don’t have anymore.”

  Peter looked puzzled.

  “Let’s just say I’m between jobs right now.”

  “Oh. Sorry?” Peter wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “It’s OK. I was in need of a change.”

  He peered at her. “Were you in that show? Family something?”

  “Yep. That was me,” Nina replied. “This is the last season, but an announcement hasn’t gone out yet. Not that it matters.” She pushed the DOWN button at the elevator.

  When the car arrived, Peter put his hand on the sliding door so it wouldn’t close too fast. He gestured for the women to enter. Amy pushed the button for the atrium deck. As the elevator descended, they could hear the subtle music of a reggae group as they got close to the atrium deck.

  As the doors of the elevator opened, the prolonged loud blast from the ship’s horn sounded, signaling that the ship was leaving port. Rachael exclaimed, “Here we go, kids.”

  Nina gave Peter a look. “Don’t mind her. They only let her out . . .”

  Peter finished the sentence with a grin, “Of the institution a few times a year. I can understand why.”

  “Great. Another comedian.” Rachael pretended to pout.

  “Do you mind if I hang with you lovely ladies for a while?”

  “No problemo, wingman.” Rachel spoke with confidence.

  There were several waiters and waitresses who hailed from a number of international locales. All spoke impeccable English with the slightest of accents. They wore crisp white uniforms with sailor caps that bore the ship’s logo. They carried trays of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres and offered them to the guests. A large table was set up in the middle of the large space. It held an incredible assortment of cheeses, fresh fruit, olives, breadsticks, a variety of toasted breads, crackers, and Marcona almonds. Pineapples carved to accommodate ferns, birds-of–paradise, and anthuriums completed the display. It was an array of tropical beauty.

  Frankie and Amy headed to the bar, and Nina walked over to say hello to Richard, the man she had met earlier.

  Peter handed a plate to Rachael, who was swaying with the music. “You dance?”

  Rachael smiled up at him. “I own a dance studio.”

  “That explains your rhythm. Oops. Not sure if that was appropriate.”

  “Oh please. Say whatever you want. We’re on vacation. From everything. Work. Politics. The news. Personal drama.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Peter replied. “So I don’t suppose you’ll be taking any dance lessons.”

  “I’ve been an admirer of Henry Dugan for a long time. I read that he goes on cruises and gives lessons to raise money for charity. I was thinking of going and pretending I don’t know how to dance.” Rachael giggled. “And then grab him and make him tango with me.”

  “You are quite the firecracker, aren’t you?” Peter found Rachael amusing.

  “I’ve been called worse.” Rachael picked a few cheeses and a slice of mango.

  Peter snickered. “I find that impossible to believe.”

  Rachael chuckled. “And you are a gentleman, too. Frankie’s right. We just might keep you.”

  Peter was happy he had met up with the four women. They were easy to be with, each charming in her own way.

  Rachael thought that having Peter around would make the women appear to be in demand. Or was it the other way around? Time would tell.

  Amy and Frankie ordered drinks for everyone. The bartender accommodated them with a small tray to carry the beverages. Frankie and Amy made their way to a high-top table, where an impeccably dressed woman stood by herself. She appeared to be around fifty. “Mind if we join you?” Frankie asked.

  “Please. I feel like a wallflower standing by myself. I’m Marilyn.”

  “Nice to meet you, Marilyn. I’m Amy, and this is Frankie.”

  “Are you traveling together?” she asked.

/>   “Yes. We have two other friends with us.” Frankie nodded in the direction of Nina, then to Rachael, who was heading in their direction. Peter followed.

  Frankie explained. “Back in June, we reconnected at a high-school reunion and decided that if we didn’t have dates for New Year’s Eve by Thanksgiving, we would do the dreaded singles cruise.”

  Marilyn laughed, almost spitting out her drink. “I was very apprehensive about doing this, but my kids bought the trip for me for Christmas. I got divorced earlier this year, and they thought it was a good way for me to start a new year. Kick the old one behind.”

  “That was thoughtful of them,” Amy said innocently.

  “I suppose so, but it’s a bit intimidating when you’re by yourself.”

  Peter approached the table. “Did I hear that word ‘intimidating’?” He nodded at the other three women. “Peter Sullivan.”

  “Marilyn Mitchell. Nice to meet you. Are you part of this group?” She was referring to Frankie, Amy, and Rachael, then nodded in Nina’s direction.

  “No. We’ve just met. They shanghaied me.” Peter smiled. “I’m kidding, of course. In truth, I crashed their party.”

  “Actually, he was invited,” Rachael corrected him.

  “Yes. They asked me to be their wingman.”

  Marilyn smiled. “I guess everyone could use a good wingman or copilot.”

  “Stick with us, Marilyn,” Rachael invited.

  “If you dare.” Frankie faked a warning. “Tell us. Where are you from? What do you enjoy doing? What were you forced to do?”

  Marilyn blinked several times, then ticked off her answers. “From New York. Fine dining. Museums. Music. I am forced to travel to Italy and France.”

  “Oh, that sounds terrible,” Frankie joked.

  “I am a buyer for Bloomingdales. Ready-to-wear. Prêt-à-porter, as they say. Menswear.”

  “I’m in New York, too. Grand Marshall Publishing.”

  “They’ve been around a long time.” Marilyn knew the company. GMP, as they were referred to, was recognized for blockbuster novels, political exposés, and famous biographies.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been around a long time, too.” Frankie smirked.

  “Ah. No shoptalk,” Rachael reminded her.

  “Right. Sorry. It’s just that it’s been quite a roller-coaster year.”

  “Now zip it,” Rachael admonished.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Frankie smiled. “I’m going to fix a plate. Be right back.” She moved in the direction of the delectable offerings, smiling and saying hello to every person who made eye contact with her. Why not? Wasn’t everyone here to kind of, sort of, maybe meet someone? She was happy no one was wearing a name tag. That would have been over the top for her. Everyone peering at each other’s chest. And under these circumstances, that could solicit some unwanted and lewd ogling. The brochure indicated it was a voyage of interaction with single professional adults.

  Frankie spotted Nina coming toward the cheese table. “So?” Frankie asked in a mischievous manner.

  “What?” Nina smiled. “Oh that? Just practicing.” She picked up a plate and began choosing some of her favorites. Humboldt Fog, Sottocenere, Stilton, and a swath of baked brie with apples. A few breadsticks and slices of crisp Fire-hook flatbread topped her plate. “I’m hungry.”

  “I can see that. So am I.” Frankie thought for a moment. “We didn’t really have lunch. Good thing we had a late breakfast.”

  “I could dive right on top of this table,” Nina joked.

  “And I’d be pushing you off and taking your place.”

  “I’m bigger than you.” Nina stood on her toes to accentuate her point.

  “But I’m quicker.” Frankie snatched the piece of melon from underneath Nina’s fork. “Ha.”

  “Speaking of food. We should probably see where and when we can eat. Should we invite Peter?” Nina asked.

  “Sure. Why not? He seems like a pretty nice dude. Besides, you may need an accountant soon with all the money you’re going to make writing that sitcom.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears.” Nina looked toward the heavens.

  “How does your family feel about your tentative plans? They must be over the moon you’ll be around. When they’re around, that is.”

  “My mother is thrilled there will be someone to keep an eye on her plants. She nearly had a cow last year when the person who checked the house each week forgot to water her banana plant.”

  Frankie chuckled. “The plants will be happy, and I will be happy to have you nearby.”

  “I’m going to fix a plate for everyone to share at the table.”

  “You’re always feeding everyone,” Nina teased.

  “Not so much in my apartment.” Frankie sighed. “I’ve been getting a little stir-crazy lately. Sure, it’s a great neighborhood, a relatively easy walk to work in nice weather. But. I feel like it’s time for a change of scenery. It seems all I do is go to work, come home, order food. I don’t dare go anywhere on the weekends with all the ‘bridge and tunnel people’ descending upon Manhattan.”

  Nina remembered the term people from the outer boroughs of Manhattan were called.

  “You love your work, no?”

  “Yes, but I’m not liking my job. If you get my drift. There are so many layers of bureaucracy since GMP bought up half the publishing industry. Did you know that an editor cannot buy a book from an author without a committee meeting?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, and get this. Two of the people on the committee have to be from human resources. It’s totally ridiculous.” Frankie sighed.

  “I just don’t know what else I would do with my life. I’ve built a good career, but . . .”

  “Those ‘buts’ can be a real pain in the butt.” Nina chuckled.

  Frankie juggled two plates of cheese. Nina carried hers and a handful of napkins.

  When they returned to the table, the others were engaged in lively conversation. Nina elbowed Frankie. “This doesn’t stink,” implying it wasn’t so bad.

  “Yeah, but your cheese does.” Frankie nodded toward the Stilton on Nina’s plate.

  Everyone was swaying to the subtle island rhythms coming from the five-piece combo.

  Frankie brought up the subject of dinner plans. “Does anyone have any idea what cuisine they’re in the mood for? Peter? Marilyn? Would you care to join our rowdy ensemble?”

  “I would be delighted,” Marilyn said first.

  “Who’s your wingman?” Peter stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with both hands.

  “Goodie,” Amy said with her spunky attitude. “Where are we going?”

  “I could use a big hunk of beef,” Nina blurted. “Oh, I hope no one is vegan or vegetarian,” she said, expecting she might have offended someone.

  “I could go for a steak,” Marilyn said, squashing any concerns on her behalf.

  “Count me in.” Peter was on board.

  “I’ll go over to the hostess station. Be back in a flash.”

  Frankie crossed the now-crowded room, still smiling and greeting everyone within eyeshot. She found the Prime Steakhouse at one end of the atrium and approached the hostess. “Good evening. Can you accommodate six for dinner?”

  The hostess looked at the book. “Of course. Can your party be ready in fifteen minutes?” The tall, exotic woman smiled at her.

  “Yes, we can. Name is Frankie.”

  “Thank you, Frankie.” The hostess noted it in her book. “We shall see you shortly.”

  Frankie was salivating from the aroma of something cooking on a grill. She picked up her step and half danced her way back to the other side of the atrium, where her band of friends waited. “We’re good to go. Fifteen minutes.”

  “Fantastic. Thank you for inviting me along.” Marilyn was happy she had company. She was beginning to feel less like an outcast.

  “Absolutely,” Amy chimed in. “The more the merrier.”

  “We should p
robably finish our drinks and head over. It will take a couple of minutes to get through the crowd.”

  Nina said she wanted to say good night to Richard and would catch up with them in a minute. Rachael raised her eyebrows several times, and Nina shot her a look. As they crossed the expanse of the atrium, Frankie noticed that the ages of the other guests ranged from early thirties to midfifties. Everyone looked respectable, smartly dressed, and showered. Frankie smirked to herself. Personal hygiene was one of her pet peeves. Or rather, the lack of it. Besides, this wasn’t one of those one-evening speed-dating events, although that was on the manifest for the next day. This, she reminded herself, was an expensive getaway. Then she thought about Rusty. There might well be a few of them roaming the ship, looking for lonely widows or divorcées. She shook her head to get rid of the negative thoughts. Fun. Only fun things. Besides, Dorothy had dumped him. Nonetheless, Frankie decided she would fire up her radar where Marilyn was concerned. She wasn’t going to get in her business, but she would keep an eye out. Women had to have each other’s backs. It was good to have that kind of camaraderie.

  The group waited for Nina to catch up, then they were seated by the hostess at a large round table. The steakhouse was also decorated with a plethora of poinsettias. But this time, they were red with gold bows.

  Peter went around the table and pulled everyone’s chair out for them. “You are quite the gentleman, Peter Sullivan. Tell me, why are you here again?” Frankie joked.

  “I’ve been divorced for a couple of years. And as I said, I didn’t want to watch the ball drop and all the hoopla that preceded it, by myself. I thought a vacation to a few places I hadn’t visited before would be a nice distraction. I also liked the idea of a singles cruise, believe it or not. I figured it was better than being around couples, or have kids running all over the place.”

  “The brochure was pretty clear about adult professionals.”

  Marilyn added, “But my son and daughter insisted I do this. They really didn’t give me much of a choice.”

  Frankie patted Marilyn’s hand. “Well, I’m glad they did. And I hope you will be, too.”

  The hostess handed everyone an oversized menu. “Your server will be here shortly to discuss the specials.”