35. Pippi
Kian’s wife was a doll of a woman named Elisabeth.
“Oh, gosh, what lovely hair,” Elisabeth trilled as I wobbled over to where her group milled around a set of bar tables and stools—shining black furniture that shouldn’t have been so stationary atop a bobbing ship. But I supposed they were bolted down by magic.
“Those curls. Hmm.” Elisabeth sprang from her stool and fluffed her own silkily straight gold locks. “I’m jealou s.”
“I was actually thinking how much I’d love gorgeous hair like yours.” The breeze had fluffed my curls into a tizzy. “I guess you always want what you don’t have, right? But this humidity isn’t kind to curly hair.”
“That it is not.” Elisabeth tutted and strode the short distance to the black-steeled minibar. “It’s all the salt from the sea . It’s rough on the skin too.”
“Sea salt is only good for chocolate and French fries,” I said.
“A-fucking-men, sister.” A tall woman with strawberry blond waves raised her glass in a salute.
“I’m going to make that my life motto,” Elisabeth said before she tapped her glass against the bar top. “ Mango seltzer , please.”
There was a tink as ice dropped into her glass, and a light gloog-glug as it filled itself to the brim with fizzy water.
I gaped.
Elisabeth laughed. “It takes some getting used to. Magic. And it always overfills the glasses.” She raised her cup, slurping until the bubbly liquid was below the rim.
“There. Now I can walk with it. The enchantment’s on the minibar,” she added.
“So all you have to do is tell it what drink you want. Now”—she strode back to the stool she’d vacated and gave it a hearty thump—“come here, love. I’ll do something with your hair to protect it from the dreadful sea spit. ”
“Sea spit!” the strawberry blonde woman trilled.
“Oh, you don’t have to—” I ground my teeth when the sea gave a particularly hard buck, and the rocking of the ship sent my stomach crab-crawling up my throat. Only for a few seconds. Once the floor settled, the nausea did too, thankfully.
“Nonsense.” Elisabeth insisted. “Sit. Please. I love doing hair.”
“Too much,” one of the women in the group chittered good-naturedly.
And, well, when Elisabeth’s zeal tugged so hard at my heart, beckoning me to come closer, how could I not?
“I used to be a hairstylist, before I met Kian, of course. But no one ”—Elisabeth oohed when I staggered onto her stool and she got her fingers in my curls—“had hair this gorgeous. And it’s so thick!”
She spent at least an hour fiddling with my hair.
Trying one updo, deciding she’d done a “ rubbish ” job.
Taking it down. Crafting a second that she liked but didn’t love .
Then she got an idea for something she thought would look better, so the second updo got taken down so she could twine my strands into their final form.
All the while, she and the other women gossiped. It was all mindless prattle. Nothing mean-spirited, just “Did you see so-and-so is dating who’s-em-what’s it?” kinda things.
I joined in a little. Whenever my stomach felt steady enough to risk a bit of conversation. But mostly, I listened and slow-sipped the seltzer, wishing it wasn’t spiked, because the fruity bubbles helped slow my reeling belly.
“Onyx, dear,” Elisabeth called suddenly. “Would you like to join us?”
I turned.
This ship had warped wooden benches scattered about the deck.
Three dotted the arch of the bow, and Onyx rose from one of them, tossing her book down as she cradled her empty cup and made for the minibar.
She didn’t acknowledge Elisabeth’s invitation as she banged her glass on the bar, curtly asked for a beer, and bolted back to her bench.
“Fussy bitch, that one.” One of the women harrumphed.
Onyx lounged on the bench and buried her nose back in her book.
Stars bless her steady stomach. I’d never be able to read on a ship.
“I heard she’s livid about this island,” Elisabeth whispered. “Didn’t even want to come.”
“Wasn’t it…I mean…I thought Rune Bloodworth said it was her idea?” I asked.
“It was.” A handsome, almond-colored-skinned woman said. “But she had a very different pitch.”
“She wanted it to be less a tourist thing, right?” Elisabeth asked.
“Yup. A retreat or something.” The almond-colored-skinned woman shrugged. “Rune saw more money in tourism.”
“So he overruled her?” I asked.
“Men usually do,” Elisabeth said.
All the women made little hmmmss and huhhhs of agreement.
“And poor Onyx hasn’t been right since her sister died.” Elisabeth dropped her voice to a breathy whisper, lest the sticky breeze pick up her words and carry them to Onyx’s ears.
“That’s right,” the strawberry blonde hissed. “And she got caught in all that hoopla with SorcerSoft.”
“ SorcerSoft? ” I gaped. “My company used to work with them. Before they…you know…” I dragged my finger across my throat.
“Yeah, what a mess that was.” The woman shook her head. “Onyx is lucky she didn’t go down with them.”
“Rune helped her,” Elisabeth added. “And she helped him. And now they’re glued at the hip, whether she likes it or not.”
My eyes found Onyx as she jiggled her knee and flipped to a new page, her eyes never leaving the book. “Poor thing. Was she close with her sister?”
“They were twins,” Elisabeth said.
And my heart bled a little for Onyx. “That’s awful. ”
“Yeah.” Elisabeth pinned a section of my hair to the back of my head. “I guess if anyone’s entitled to a bit of fussiness, it’s her.”
My gaze swung from Onyx to where the men were strewn around the VIP section, some perched on benches, some leaning over the railing, watching the sea.
Like Jackson, who leaned against the planked wood with a drink in one hand and a smoking cigar in the other.
He was red-faced and a little loose in the way he moved, a sign he’d probably had a few drinks too many.
And although he was talking up a storm to the men around him, his gaze never left Rune Bloodworth.
Rune, for his part, was out in the middle of the ship, entertaining the other tourists with his magic.
Big, blobby bubbles floated in the air around him, bouncing and jiggling in time to the sea shanty he chanted.
The kids were mesmerized, clapping along to the music, and squealing whenever one of the bubbles burst, dousing Rune in glimmering water.
Occasionally, a bubble broke away from the formation to super soak someone from the audience.
“That one’s got a big personality, huh?” I said to Elisabeth.
“Who?” She followed my gaze. “Rune?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, for sure.” She shifted my hair into one hand so she could use her other to lift her drink. “Always. Big and boisterous. And he uses that charm too, make no mistake. He was born with a damn good weapon, and he knows how to wield it.”
A gale of laughter swelled around the boat as a bootylicious bubble did the mambo around Rune’s body. And then a voice twined over the hubbub, shooting into the air at an almost unnatural volume.
“Alright, may I have your attention. Eyes to me, please, ears as well…both, if you can spare them.” A tall, beanstalk of a boy stood on a platform on the other side of the ship, waving his arms. “Eyes and ears please—oh, and bubbles too.” He laughed, along with everyone else, when Rune’s bubbles formed an arc around the bottom of the platform.
“Very good. Very good.” The boy patted one of the bubbles, grinning when it jiggled.
“We’re going to be putting the anchor down here.
And we’ve got a mighty fine meal cooking for y’all, so I sure hope you brought your appetite, but there’s still time yet to work it up if you haven’t.
Now, I’ll be asking each of you to pick a side of the boat.
Try to split yourselves evenly, please. And leave room, eh?
There’s no need to crowd, certainly no need for pushing and shoving and the like.
The Loch Ness Monster swims around the whole ship, so it doesn’t matter where you stand, you’ll be able to see him. ”
Excitement plumed into the air as people began to move, sorting themselves in groups and making a beeline for the railings.
“Ahhhh, don’t you go rushing off,” Elisabeth muttered to me, even though I hadn’t moved. “Let me get this last weave in your hair.”
“We ask that you wait until you are settled at the railing,” the attendant continued, “ before you put your goggles on. You may notice some distortions in your vision while wearing them, so please be mindful of that. If you feel unsteady, please step back and lower onto one of the benches.”
I glanced down at the splash goggles, dangling from where I’d hooked them over my elbow.
“Parents, mind your little ones.” The attendant raised his voice, so it didn’t get lost in the mounting fervor.
“If you have food with you, we ask that you please keep it secure. Do not feed the Loch Ness Monster. Do not lean over the railing either. Our Loch Ness Monster has a strict diet, and we do not want him to rot his stomach because a delectable little human fell into his jaws.” He made an overly exaggerated “oooohhh” motion with his hands, like an actor at a cheesy haunted house.
My stomach clenched.
“Strict diet,” the boy called it.
I called it cruelty.
Even if Alistair had wanted to snack on some of the humans, he couldn’t . He’d puke them back up.
“And, done,” Elisabeth chirped. “ Gorgeous. You’ve the perfect hair for this kind of weave bun, wouldn’t you say?”
I thought she was talking to me, which seemed a silly question, when I couldn’t really see the updo. But as a “yes” was rolling off my tongue anyway, Jackson’s curt “sure” dragged my response to a halt.
“You should wear your hair like that more, babe,” he continued. “Instead of always leaving it down.”
“Oh, I’d wear my hair down all the time too, if I had curls like hers,” Elisabeth said. “I’d want to flaunt them. But this’ll keep the salty humidity from frizzing it.”