Time to party.
I kid you not when I say that we Tough Cats busted out of the lobby’s glass elevator that night looking like music video divas in slow motion. Our outfits were hot, our skin aglow with sun and lotion, our hair flowing behind us like halos ablaze. We were on fire.
And people noticed. Everywhere we went, we got looks left and right. You know you look good when other girls stare at you, trying to figure out exactly what you did to upstage them.
The massages had worked. We were new women, refreshed, relaxed, and rejuvenated. I was enjoying one of the best days of my life—well, enjoying as much as anyone could who’s been informed that she or one of her friends would perish over the next few days. That fear was still niggling at the back of my mind. But the day wasn’t over just yet. There was still the Captain’s Welcome.
We had another great dinner that ended with a killer crème brûlée and a seven-layer chocolate cake. I could easily have spent the whole night in the kitchen watching the chefs prepare these things, but I’d be doing that soon enough in New York.
The captain’s name was Dimitris Something, and he showed up long enough to wave at us, then go about his merry way of attending to the engine room gauges or his after-dinner sherry, or whatever it is that captains do in their free time.
Afterward, we strolled around the dining room, trying to get a sense of the competition. I knew we’d agreed on the no-guys thing, but Killian was too hot not to show off. Tonight she wore a black midriff-bearing top and tight black pants that flared out at the bottom, with a long gold chain around her hips that dangled as she moved. Any of us could have felt shadowed by her goddessness, but I didn’t. I felt proud and protective. If guys wanted to hit on her tonight, they’d have to get through me first.
Yoli was doing her own thing. I didn’t know what that puppy-eyed masseur had done to her, but she was up for the grabbing, too. She wasn’t as hot as Killian, but in a flirty red minidress she’d bought last week, she could definitely pick up one of Tyler’s buddies. Speaking of which, Tyler said he’d be here tonight, but so far nada.
Alma wore a dark, flowery skirt—very anti-Alma, but it was a special occasion and, together with her black bouncy hair and big curves, she was looking good in it. I had on cute black capri pants with a green wrap-around top to match my eyes, which made me feel all sultry and sophisticated. Go, me!
“Hey,” someone said next to me as we left the dining hall. I turned and saw the guy from the port—the peering-over-the-brochure guy. Up close, I could see he was maybe nineteen or twenty. He had dark hair, light brown eyes, and a smile that almost rendered me unconscious. He was much taller than me, too, which was nice. Lorenzo was the same height as me.
“Hi.” I smiled back. I fought the urge to make sure he wasn’t talking to Killian instead.
“You look great,” he said, like he knew me and hadn’t seen me in years.
“Thanks.” What was the proper response for this? You too? Maybe he knew me and was waiting to see if I recognized him. “Do I know you?”
“Don’t think so.” He grinned and shook his head. “Unfortunately.”
I smiled. I couldn’t believe I was standing here somewhat flirting with this guy who was ten times cuter than Lorenzo. He should’ve been over there trying his luck on Killian, not me. “Well, see you around,” I said, all cool, like I didn’t care to know his name. Because I didn’t. Not one little bit.
When he smiled again, I almost turned to melted beurre. “Hopefully,” he said.
He walked off and the girls closed in on me. “What did he say?” Yoli asked.
“Just stuff. ‘Unfortunately’ and ‘hopefully.’” I smiled.
“Ah, yes.” Killian laughed. “An adverb guy.”
“Adverb Guy,” Alma repeated. “That’ll be easy to remember.”
“You didn’t get his name?” Yoli asked.
In a daze, I followed Killian to the elevator. “Was I supposed to?”
Killian shrugged. “Not if you’re not interested.”
“Who says I’m not interested?” I tried pinching her waist, but there was nothing to pinch. “I’m just not allowed.”
The elevator door opened, and Alma strutted in. “I won’t tell Lorenzo.”
Yoli scoffed. “You guys have no respect for a betrothed woman.”
Betrothed?
“I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Alma shot back. As much as I hated to admit, it was true. But give it time… . Lorenzo would come through! We’d just graduated, for Pete’s sake.
Killian pressed the elevator button. The doors closed, and the view of the lobby dropped beneath us.
I thought about Adverb Guy while the girls talked. It was such a non-event, having a beautiful guy stop and talk to me for seven seconds. It probably wouldn’t have even registered on Killian’s flirt-o-meter, but for me, it was exciting.
“Where are we going?” Yoli asked.
Killian did a little wiggle. “You’ll see.”
The Bora Bora Dance Club was on the Empress deck, next to the casino. It was almost eleven o’clock now, and the under-eighteen crowd was getting kicked out. The place was filling with adults of all ages, but mostly twenties and thirties. Even though I thought some older guys were hot, I would never dance with anyone more than a couple years older than me.
Killian and Yoli checked out the place like they were looking for somebody in particular. Tyler, maybe? Not to mess up their hopes or anything, but I was glad he hadn’t shown up all evening. Perhaps the tea leaves of fortune swirled in my favor and he’d leave us girlies alone.
“I can’t even smoke in a freakin’ club. Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Alma ordered a Coke from the female bartender. “And no drinks either.”
It was funny how this cruise was turning out to be a nightmare for Alma. I laughed aloud, and she gave me a hard stare.
“Sorry.” I leaned against the bar and checked out the scene.
The DJ played a mix of nineties and current dance music. Not quite what they were dishing out on South Beach lately, but the beat was good.
Killian pulled me and Yoli to the dance floor, which was lit up like in that movie with John Travolta about the guy who wants to win a dance contest with the ballerina girl. Alma stayed behind, content to watch. The music got better. The floor got more crowded. A few times I had to politely push away some guys trying to dance up on us. Yoli didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and pursed her lips, like some ultrafeminine version of herself. I guess wearing a red minidress could do that to you.
It wasn’t long before the floor was packed. Every time the crowd pushed us around so that we were dancing in one another’s faces, we laughed like fools. We bumped and grabbed one another to keep from falling. I found myself trapped in one of those moments that had been plaguing me since graduation, where I record the tiniest details of everything. The multicolored sheen of Killian’s smile. The curve of Yoli’s hips in her daring dress. My friends looked so beautiful. Maybe I did to them, too. Which of us would look the best twenty years from now?
I noticed Tyler before anybody else. He walked in with a couple of buddies, including Ugly Friend, and stood there in his jeans and tight T-shirt, thumbs in his pockets. He immediately spotted Killian, her arms in the air, blond hair swinging over her back.
“Kill,” I said, but she couldn’t hear me over the loud thumping of the music. “Killian!”
She looked at me, but Yoli looked, too. Great. Now she’d probably think I was trying to match up Tyler with Killian and not her. I pursed my lips to point him out. They both turned, and it was interesting to see the reactions. Killian kind of shrugged and went on dancing in her usual come-and-get-me way. And Yoli sort of kicked it up a notch, like the show was on. I felt sorry for her that she felt she needed to try harder.
Tyler hung back with his friends, looking around the club but mostly at us.
Killian sidled up to me and shouted in my ear. “What is Yoli doing?”
“Dancing?” I responded.
We kept dancing until finally Tyler cut his way right through everybody and made a beeline for us. He smiled his sideways grin at Yoli and me, but wrapped his hands around Killian’s waist. She turned to face him. Right away, they started dancing like a couple who’d known each other for a long time.
Yoli made a face. It was subtle, but I could tell she was annoyed. Since this was clearly a good time for a break, I gave Yoli a signal and we squeezed past the happy couple, heading back to Alma.
But Yoli didn’t notice that Killian had grabbed my arm and pulled me back in. She pressed her back to Tyler and made me stand in front of her, so that she was sandwiched between us. And just like that, I was sucked into one of Killian’s three-way dances. Joy, oh joy.
As gracious as I was, playing third banana, anyone could see that the party was between Tyler and Killian. Maybe I could slip away without their noticing. I tried skittering off, but Killian held me close again, like she needed help bagging Tyler. Didn’t she realize she already had him wrapped around her finger? But a little girl-on-girl dancing never hurt anyone, so I let her tilt back my head and twist my hair into a thick rope. Her breath felt warm on my neck, and it might’ve felt nice if she were, let’s say, a guy. I turned my mouth up to her, and I swear, you could almost hear the gasps from the guys watching. In her ear, I said, “My job here is done, now make out with him, not me.”
She laughed one of those loud, apology-free laughs. I could feel Yoli watching our Girls Gone Stupid thing from the shadows, pissed off as hell, so I said good-bye and bounced.
Whew! I asked the bartender for some water.
“Someone was having fun,” Yoli growled.
I eyed Killian and Tyler again. “I was trying to get out of that.” I thanked the bartender then chugged down the water.
“She’s such an attention whore, it’s not even funny.”
“Yoli!” Alma turned a stare on her. “What is your problem?”
I was used to hearing Yoli’s complaints, but Alma wasn’t. Yes, we were all friends, but Yoli usually confided in me and Alma in Killian. Not always but most of the time. And whatever Alma heard usually went straight to Killian’s ears. Now I realized that’s probably what Yoli wanted.
“What? You know it’s true. Why doesn’t anybody ever tell her?”
I have. I’ve told her lots of times that she doesn’t need to do much for attention, that she could just be a stick in the mud and still get whoever she wanted. But after a while, I just gave up. She was having fun and didn’t want to hear it.
“That’s just how she is, Yoli. You’re not going to change her.” Alma stood up straight and arched her back, stretching.
“Maybe one day she’ll realize it. When she’s tired of playing,” I told Yoli above the music.
“Exactly.” Alma yawned.
As much as I loved clubs, especially ones where everyone seemed to be having such a good time, I felt crowded. I wanted to get out of there and stroll. Feel the tropical breezes or something. With my hand, I covered the yawn I’d caught from Alma.
“Leaving?” Alma asked, her brown eyes hopeful.
“Yeah. I’m going to walk around, maybe head back to the cabin.” If I ran into Santi and Monica, I’d talk to them for a little while.
“I’ll come with you,” she said, gathering her bag.
“Me too.” Yoli adjusted the strap of her dress with attitude. “This could take all night.”
No kidding. In fact, we probably wouldn’t see Killian again until morning. I was only sorry that now we were left to deal with Bitter Yoli.
We wove single-file through the crowd, past men who stood alone with their drinks. I felt sorry for them watching from the sidelines while guys like Tyler took home the trophies. I bet they were really nice. Maybe Yoli should go for one of them.
Then I wondered if maybe this new side of hers wasn’t so much about guys or about Tyler. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was a rivalry thing. With Killian as the main enemy. Not exactly the stuff of friendship vacations, now was it?