Chapter 37
Sarah was ready to get back on dry land.
She shouldn’t have stayed on board for Boy Talk, not that she really had a choice.
Who was going to be in charge, Tyler? He couldn’t manage to take a piss without asking someone else how to do it first. Also, it didn’t actually make her feel better.
Let this be a lesson! More work does not make sadness go away.
More work does not fix heartbreak! The good news about the cruise was also the bad news about the cruise: It was easy to pretend the rest of the world did not exist. That’s why people came—both staff and guests—but the spell only lasted for so long before it evaporated and you were left with whatever problems you had before.
Lexie had been posting dreamy portraits of Plum walking through dappled sunshine.
The first blush of love was so disgusting.
Sarah was trying not to pay attention, but it was hard.
Everyone was backstage at the theater except for Corey, and somehow it was her job to get him, even though she had a whole staff of people with walkie-talkies and legs.
Fine. The costume contest started at six, which was supposed to leave enough time for everyone to eat and nap and change and pack and do whatever else they had to do before Prom.
The next JackRabbit cruise, Jerry’s Jammers, wasn’t for a month, which meant she’d have time at home, or time to adopt her own pet, some sad creature with one eye or three legs, or time to go on vacation, a real vacation, a vacation for her.
Sarah was going to do all of that and start looking for another job.
If the internet were more reliable, she would have started right now.
Sarah knocked on Corey’s door, and he swung it wide open right away. His tuxedo for Prom Night—orange, with a paler orange ruffled shirt to match—was hanging in the open closet. Corey stood naked to the waist and put a hand on his hip.
“Sorry,” Sarah said. “Need a minute?” She didn’t want to cover her eyes with her hands like a prude.
They had all seen him with less on than he was wearing now—in his art house movie days, he’d done full frontal, which must have sent nuclear shock waves through these women—but she did politely look toward the ceiling.
“Nah, I’m coming,” Corey said, stepping aside to let her in. Sarah let the door close behind her and scooted through to the other side of the closet. Corey opened a drawer, pulled out a T-shirt, and slung it over his shoulder like a dishrag.
“ ’Kay.” Sarah crossed her arms. “Want me to wait in the hallway? Everyone’s getting a little itchy, that’s all.”
“Tell me about it.” Corey twinkled at her. “Don’t go. I’ll be ready in a second. Just sit and talk to me.”
Sarah nodded and moved toward one of the plush chairs.
Corey was neat. So many people on the ship turned into messy college kids, having someone else around to pick up after them.
Not Sarah—she put everything where it should go.
Corey was clearly the same. It was a surprising quality in someone so famously messy in other areas, but good for him for defying expectations.
“So, what do you do when you’re not here?” he asked. Corey uncapped a stick of deodorant and swiped at both armpits.
“Plan the next one.” Sarah crossed her legs. Her walkie-talkie beeped, and she silenced it.
“And you like it?” Corey was looking at her in the mirror. There was a bottle of vodka in an ice bucket, and Sarah watched as Corey unscrewed the top and poured a hefty amount into his color-coded water bottle.
“Sure,” Sarah said. She liked some things about it.
She liked being in charge. She liked the wind at night on the lido deck.
She liked how many moving parts there were and her own efficiency.
She liked solving other people’s problems. If it were up to her, Corey would not be drinking an entire bottle of vodka onstage.
In a way, it was a good reminder that control was an illusion and that she was just spinning plates.
No one came to the circus to see the spinning plates; they came to see people flying through the air.
No one would care if she wasn’t there. They would care if no one could find whatever cord DJ Pancake needed and it was all quiet on the lido front, but they wouldn’t actually be missing her.
Sarah was a capable body, nothing more. She took a breath and fluttered her lips.
This happened every cruise—by the last night, Sarah was ready to pack it in, but she always came back around.
She almost wanted to thank Corey for reminding her that she’d been in this psychological washing machine before. “Do you like it, the cruise?”
“No.” He wasn’t trying to make a joke.
“That’s a serious drink,” she said, pointing to his water bottle.
“Yeah, well, my wife is making me go to rehab after the cruise anyway, so might as well, right?” He took a sip and then breathed out a thin stream of air that could have burst into flames.
The walkie-talkie crackled again. “We should get going,” Sarah said.
“They can wait.” Corey turned around, so he was looking at her directly, and all Sarah could see in the mirror were his back muscles.
She really should go to the gym. Lexie loved doing sporty things—playing soccer, rock climbing—and all Sarah wanted to do was go to concerts.
Maybe that would have made the difference, doing things that Lexie liked.
Plum seemed to be in some sort of adult kickball league, a thought that made Sarah feel ill with both scorn and self-hatred. “You like girls, right?” Corey said.
“I do,” Sarah said.
“No boys? Never?” He smiled. “Just asking for an interested party. We have a little time, don’t we?
” He opened his arms and made what was supposed to be an irresistible face.
“You don’t even want to try?” This was the problem with people who had always been adored.
Their own desires superseded everything else.
It was why so many famous people belonged to bogus religions. No one ever said no.
“Put your shirt on, Corey.” Sarah stood up and walked to the door. “We’re coming right now,” she said into the walkie-talkie. “And if he’s not, I’m not coming back to get him.”