“We were in the process of getting a divorce. We’ve decided to give it one last shot. Hence why we’re here, on this cruise. This is our make-or-break second honeymoon.”
“Where was your first honeymoon?” The man looked between us with a frown, obviously getting suspicious.
“Paris,” Tennessee said, at the same time I answered, “Fiji.”
He took a leisurely sip of his beer, waiting for us to get our stories straight.
But while I couldn’t give two shits about what he thought about me—finally, I was in an unchartered territory, where I could loosen up and be less than perfect—it was obvious from the way my companion was pretzeling her limbs and changing shades of red, that she was having a hard time trying to explain my existence.
“We went to Paris first, for a weekend, but then he wanted to go to Fiji. And we always do what he wants. That’s why we’re getting a divorce. Because it’s always Mr. Weiner’s way or the highway. He is the town’s beloved golden boy, you see.”
The man nodded knowingly, burying his hand into a bowl of wasabi peas and throwing a handful into his mouth.
“Been there, done that. Twice divorced now, with three kids between the ex-wives. Life got me real good after that second divorce. Reminded me that the sun don’t shine from my ass.”
“Yes!” Tennessee clapped her hands together, delighted to have an ally. “I don’t wish bad on a lot of people, but I hope my soon-to-be-ex-husband learns that he is, in fact, mortal.”
“I don’t think you’re telling him the whole story, sweetheart.” I unfurled my arm from her shoulder to grab her mysterious white cocktail, taking a sip. It tasted of coconut, charred marshmallow, and gin. “Tell him why we really found ourselves in a marital pickle in Fiji.”
She opened her mouth to stop me, but I was too far gone, driven by vengeance and anger and something else I couldn’t exactly put a name on, but made my blood run hotter.
“What’s your name again?” I asked Mr. Rich Tourist.
“Brendan.”
“So, Brendan, here I am, newly wed in Fiji, deliriously happy and deeply in love…with my cousin.”
This time I did drop a casual kiss on the crown of Tennessee’s head. I felt her stiffening beside me. Even her hair was hot with shame.
She pretended to wrap an arm around my waist, actually digging her claws into my abs, going for blood.
I ignored the pain, continuing, “I wanted to surprise her by getting her a black pearl necklace. No better place finding ’em than Fiji, amiright?”
“Pearls aren’t my favorite.” Tennessee made a show of examining her atrociously long fingernails. “They’re basically an oyster’s blisters. Did you guys know that? Oysters produce them to ease their pain when debris gets stuck in their bodies.”
“Please excuse her.” I smiled winningly, rubbing at her shoulder. “My bride here was raised by wolves. She doesn’t do well with polite conversation. Anyway, my wife had told me she was going to wait for me in the hotel. Didn’t think much of it at the time.”
“You should’ve,” Tennessee said adamantly. “I’d tried to escape our marriage five or six times at this point.”
I ignored her, chuckling as I shook my head, as if this was nothing more than our usual banter.
“Anyway, so here I am, purchasing her a grand black pearl necklace, to go with her grand black heart. I come upstairs to our room, and lo and behold…she is not alone.”
Tennessee rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her generous cleavage when she was sure she’d drawn enough blood under my shirt.
“It was the maintenance guy. My loving husband made a mess and clogged the toilet after going ham on the seafood the evening before.”
I continued, feeling reckless, and unhinged, and completely un-like myself for the first time in years.
“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he told you, but what I caught him doing had nothing to do with unclogging the toilet and everything to do with bottlenecking you.”
Good ol’ Brendan choked on his beer, coughing and spitting some of the foam and pea wasabi. A bartender arrived, handing us three tall glasses of water. Brendan downed his in less than two seconds.
“You cheated on him?” He jerked his thumb my way, his face thundering as he took Tennessee in.
She shrugged noncommittally. “He cheated first. With my sister.”
“Maybe so, but you were the one who brought a third participant into our marriage.”
She twisted her head and threw me a violent stare. “You were the one who wanted a threesome!” She jabbed her finger in my chest.
“I’m talking about the gonorrhea.”
“Okay then.” Brendan stood up, patting his pockets to ensure his wallet, phone, and dignity were all in one place. “I’m going to head to my room now. Y’all obviously have some things to resolve, and frankly, it’s getting a little late and I had a big dinner. It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs.…Weiner.”
The last name was uttered with a wince.
I waved him off with a smile. “Sure thing. Maybe we’ll catch a game of golf sometime.”
“Yeah. I don’t know about that. I’m not much of a golfer.”
He was already on the other side of the bar. World’s tiniest violin for this creeper.
I wrapped my arm around Tennessee and squeezed, my smile broadening.
“Say goodbye to him, cuz.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered.
“Oh, sweetheart, not if I kill you first.”
For the record, I wasn’t chatting up Brendan at the bar.
I wasn’t even supposed to be at the bar to begin with.
I’d been headed toward the boardwalk, lost in thought and barely getting over another stream of tears and hiccups when I noticed from across the deck there was only one bartender manning the huge bar.
He was flustered, not a lot older than twenty-three, with two huge patches of sweat adorning his armpits.
Helping others had always given me a sense of direction and soothed my soul. Seeing someone who may be more stressed than me in that moment meant I could make something better for someone, if not myself. Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do while Cruz Costello was no doubt busy telling the entire world how much of an idiot I was.
Also—I was still wearing my Jerry & Sons uniform and looked like a waitress.
If that wasn’t fate, I didn’t know what was.
The bartender—Stevie—almost kissed me he was so grateful for the help. Apparently, both the barmaids who’d been supposed to work with him on this shift had fallen ill, and he was waiting for their replacements to get dressed.
I’d only helped him for twenty minutes before two veteran bartenders came to save the day. I was almost disappointed when they showed up, since I was making pretty neat tips and taking my mind off of the Elation/Ecstasy ordeal.
I even made a mental note to try to find work in cruises sometime before Bear went to college so I could, well, afford to send him to one. Hell, same job but not in a town that hated me? Where was the downside?
To show his appreciation, Stevie began sending all sorts of fancy cocktails my way—the type you had to pay for and didn’t come free with the all-you-can-drink package.