Chapter 17
The Cave of the Golden Rose – Kayla
“ U gh, this fucking sucks,” Callie whispers while we’re actually cleaning the bathroom floor with toothbrushes.
“Yeah, what gives?” I ask. Captain Bryant has gone almost militant with us as of late, and every single day, he comes up with some other new task that we have to complete.
She shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“He’s never been like this before?” Obviously, I don’t have much experience working with the man.
She sits up on her legs and swirls the toothbrush in the bucket of soap and water between us. “Well, he got a little weird around the time rumors about his divorce started circulating, but he just got more reclusive than brutal like this.”
“So, what do you think is wrong now?”
“I wish I knew.”
The door is open, so when Denver walks by, I stop him.
“What’s going on with Bryant?”
“What do you mean?” I can tell he’s playing dumb.
I hold up the absurd cleaning instrument in my hand. “Oh, I don’t know. This?”
He’s holding a clipboard and tries to act like he’s reading something off it. “He just wants the ship to look nice for when we dock. You know, in case any famous or otherwise noteworthy guests want to come aboard.”
When he walks away, I snap my head toward Callie. “Does that happen?”
“I think it has. You know, wealthy people like to show off to others with money just how rich they are. So, with all of us staying in hotels on land, our rooms are open and available.”
“Oh.” I didn’t realize that.
Then, her eyes get even bigger than usual. “You know what? I just remembered this. One night, when we were in Italy, Kim Rossi Stuart stayed in my cabin.”
I drop everything in my hands. “You’re kidding?”
She gives me a curious look. “You know who that is?”
“Of course! The Cave of the Golden Rose was one of me and my brother’s favorite movies growing up.” The copy Collin and I had was in Italian, so I didn’t even really understand what was going on until he was old enough to read the English subtitles out to me. Then, of course, as I aged, I also learned how to read them myself.
But even when the actor’s words sounded like a bunch of beautiful gibberish, I still just liked the imagery.
“Huh?”
One side of my mouth pinches down. “You’ve never heard of it? It’s also called Fantagjirò. ”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Then, how do you know who he is?”
“One of the other stewards told me. So, I looked him up… and holy hell is he gorgeous.” Callie looks around before admitting, “I didn’t even wash my pillow after we got on board.”
I lightly shover her shoulder. “Ew!”
“What? Like you wouldn’t do the same exact thing.”
“No, I would not.” I’m totally lying. “It’s really funny you should bring him up though. The last I heard, they were considering him to play Issy in the movie adaptation of ‘Til the War Starts.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding me. How random.”
“I know. But wouldn’t he be perfect?” I ask.
“Oh, my god. Yes! With those cheekbones and smoldering blue eyes.”
My body tenses up, and my mouth feels dry just thinking about it—especially with the long blond hair they’d have to put on him.
We continue to gush until Captain Bryant walks by.
“Everything okay in here, girls?”
“Yep!”
“Just fine,” Callie adds with a smile.
“Okay. Because I thought I heard a bunch of chattering.”
After exchanging looks, I say, “We can still scrub while talking, sir.”
“Hm. I suppose so. Just make sure that scrubbing is the main goal. I want this place spick and span by the time we get to Morocco.”
“Yes, sir,” we say in tandem.
Then, as he walks away, I swear I see a hint of him giving me a dirty look.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“That look the captain gave me.”
There’s a rag in her hand, and she flicks it in my direction. “That’s just his face. Don’t worry about it.”
It’s so hard to get a good read on that guy. During my interview he was professional but a little lighter than I’ve seen him recently. However, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t still a pretty attractive older man. If anything, his shadowy and grim demeanor only makes that more apparent.
“I don’t know. I feel like I did something wrong.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well—” Then, she makes kissy sounds.
“Other than that,” I growl. “And that was forever ago.”
Callie gasps. “That’s right. I forgot all about the note. Did you ever get a response?”
I hang my head and feel my heart sinking into my chest. “No. Nothing.”
“Well, I guess that’s kind of an answer itself, right?”
“I suppose.” Although part of me wonders if he even got it.
She leans over and grabs my hand—causing a squeaking sound as we’re both wearing yellow cleaning gloves. “I’m sorry, Kay.”
“It is what it is. But at least I know.” Oddly, despite not wanting to be rejected in person, I would’ve preferred a note affirming his feelings, or lack thereof, for me. This is just continuing the limbo we were already in.
“So, does that mean we can have fun in Morocco.”
“I suppose so.”
She lets go and claps. “Yay! We’re going to have so much fun.”
“What about Denver?” I gesture out the door with my head. “I feel like he’s just going to be sulking over Maria the whole time.”
“Aagh. Don’t worry about that. Once we get a few drinks in him, he’ll be a dancing maniac.”
I know that’s at least partially true from the time I spent out with him in Fort Lauderdale. He was flailing around like a maniac until he locked eyes with her.
“Speaking of which,” she pulls something out of her bag, which is laying near her. “Here.”
They’re a bag of pills.
“Oh, no, no.” I’m down for a good drink, or two, or five, but I am not interested in drugs of any kind. I go to hand them back to her, but she stops me.
“Relax. They’re liver detox vitamins.”
“Oh.” I look at them again, and they do have the same grainy look of my multivitamins.
“I just thought you might want them. I like to prep my body before a big excursion.”
“Huh.” I’ve never considered taking such a supplement. “Well, thank you.” Now that I know they aren’t going to kill me or give me a heart attack, I accept them with gratitude.
I might not even take them, but it’s nice she was thinking of me.
“Anyway, back to our trip. You need to show me the outfits you brought that will be acceptable.”
I squirm a little. “I don’t know that I have any.” If her “barely there” bikini was any indication, all my clothes are way too conservative.
“You have to. You didn’t bring a bathing suit?”
I’m ashamed to admit it. “It’s a one piece.”
“Jesus.” She rolls her eyes. “How old are you again?”
I throw some sudsy water at her. “I’m older than you, thank you very much.”
Retaliating, she says, “Well, then you should know better! After this, I’m going to raid your closet.”
Ugh. I pat myself dry again. “Fine.”
When we’re finally done cleaning the bathrooms, Callie does as she says and comes to my room.
“No, no, no.” She flings things out of my small closet one by one.
“I told you!”
“Wait a minute!” She grabs and holds up a small, figure-hugging, blue dress.
“What is that?” I don’t recognize it.
“There’s something on the tag. ‘Go out there and be hot. Love, Molly.’”
Oh, Jeez. “Molly is my best friend from back home.”
The corners of her mouth jet downward as she nods. “I like this girl Molly.”
“Yeah, you would.” They’re basically the same people in different fonts—they’re both brunettes, but Molly’s hair is quite a bit longer and curlier than Callie’s, and she’s also taller than my tiny new friend. Oh, and Molly has blue eyes, not brown. But in almost every other way, they’re basically the same person.
“Well, this is a yes.” She throws the dress onto my bed.
“No, it looks way too small.” I pick it up and examine it.
“There’s only one way we’ll know.”
With her back turned, I squeeze myself into it.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I feel like a sausage.
She turns around, and her eyes light up. “Oh, hell yes!”
Oh no. Anything she likes can’t be good.