Page 3 of From Russia With Blood

“Good. We can continue.”

Chapter 2

Katrina

Ginormous. There’s no other word that comes to mind when looking at the massive ship. Gargantuan? Maybe. Unease curls through me like smoke, filling every crevice of my being as I watch it in the water. Every porthole looks like eyes staring at me, demanding I turn back the way I came.

Lizzy bounces in front of me, chocolate curls dancing in the wind, her entire frame vibrating with an exuberance I wish I felt, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to feel anything other than dread. There’s a small tendril of excitement at finally being able to let my freak flag fly, but it’s easily smothered by the terror of knowing it’s all happening on a cruise ship. Why couldn’t Lizzy have booked us some sort of exotic bed and breakfast?

Money. That’s why. Kink costs money. If I were still with Chet, money wouldn’t be an issue. Then again, if I were still with Chet, I wouldn’t be doing anything kink related. He made that explicitly clear when he broke up with me.

I want nothing more than to be back at home, wallowing in my room while watching romcoms until I choke on my sobs. Isn’t that what normal people do after a breakup? Breakup. It’s such a mild word for the feelings that still arrest my breath if I think about it too hard. Two syllables are not enough to encompass the grief that fills you over losing the man you thought was your soulmate.

Then, if he was my soulmate, he wouldn’t have made me feel like absolute garbage for telling him what I needed in bed. His reaction was the epitome of small dick energy, and it’s high time I let myself believe it.

He broke me, convinced me that I was trash for wanting something other than the mundane missionary we engaged in three times a week. Like clockwork. No pizazz. No fireworks. Steady. He was working up the ranks to be a congressman and had to stay above reproach.

Somehow me wanting more was an attack on his character. But he’s with Jessie now - not that I still stalk his Facebook. Maybe she would make him happier. Pulling out my phone, I open Facebook and go to the search bar. All I have to do is tap. No letters. No names. It knows exactly who I want to see.

Chet is at the top of the search list. And why wouldn’t he be? He’s been the only reason I’ve come to Facebook for the last month or so. I look at the pictures of him with Jessie on his arm, and tears start to sting my eyes.

“This is a stupid idea.” The words pop out before I can stop them. I watch my friend as she struggles with her cart, and I roll my eyes as yet another small bag bounces to the ground from off the top of the pile. With a sigh, I reach down and grab it, slinging it into her awaiting palm.

Why did she bring so much? Was she planning on moving in? I glance down at my cart and the two large suitcases in it. They held just the essentials - obligatory costumes, some lingerie, and warm clothes for when we explore Russia.

“It’s done. Settled. Stop being such a party pooper and go with it!” Her eyes narrow as she spies my phone. Busted. “You better not be looking at who I think you are.”

She tosses the bag back onto the top, only to have it come crashing down on the other side. She doesn’t seem to notice, though. Right now, she’s intent on ferreting out my secrets. A giggle erupts from my lips as she rises on her toes to swipe at my outstretched hand. With a smile, I bring my arm up out of reach, waving the phone in the air every time she gets near it. After several moments of futility, Lizzy crosses her arms, looking every bit the petulant child.

For her sake, I hope she finds someone with a firm hand and gentle spirit. In a huff, she storms over to the front of the cart, grabs the bag, and slams it on the pile again, glaring at it as if her ire alone can keep it in place.

A smile tugs at my lips as she pushes her load ahead, swearing at her belongings under her breath. The petty part of me wants to step on the strap of her biggest piece, hoping for all of it to tumble down, but I refrain. I'm not actually cruel.

“Why are you still obsessing over him anyway? Didn’t we burn his stuff in effigy?”

“You make it sound like we had a bonfire. It was a metal trash can full of pictures and ticket stubs.”

Lizzy gives a shrug and pushes her stuff up another foot or two. “Fire is fire, babe. If I had my way, it would have been even bigger.”

“You’re lucky the fire department didn’t come out!” Too many drinks and worse decisions. I'm so grateful there’s a drink limit on board. The absolute worst thing would be to get shit-faced and do something I regret.

Thick, gray clouds move in, smothering the sun as we make our way through the queue outside of the check-in building, and that tingle of apprehension starts to climb back up into my throat. I pull my jacket even tighter against the biting wind as it tears through the crowd. “Who decides to do a cruise this close to winter?”

“It’s a Halloween cruise. When else could we do it? Easter? Besides, the price was unbeatable. We just couldn’t say no.”

Again, it all comes down to money. Instead of checking Facebook for the umpteenth time, I should really check my bank balance. That’s sure to give me the jolt of adrenaline I need to power through my irrational fears. The only way I could have said yes was the price. It was actually something I could afford on my waitress salary.

It’s still shocking that I had the funds available, and it was in my price range. Most cruises I know are astronomical, yet, here we both are, just two average Janes, about to board a massive ocean liner. Given Lizzy’s logic, it makes sense, but it still doesn’t answer the actual question. Why in the hell did I say yes to this? It’s too late to back out now – no refunds being the biggest issue - I know that logically, but the pounding of my heart as it drowns out everything else tells me otherwise.

Huddling into my coat further, we all shuffle forward a few more steps. It’s not all for the comfort against the chill; there’s something comforting about being bundled, swaddled almost. I look further up the line noting the various costumes. Some already came with their game faces on, and here we are, looking like two marshmallows with our puffy coats and beanies. The others laugh and joke with each other, the sounds of their merriment drifting on the cool breeze. Every one of them is happy - everyone but me.

Lizzy is one hundred percent right, though. I need to stop making myself miserable over someone that’s clearly moved on. I glance down at his smug face again, with Jessie just dripping down his arm before hitting the block button. Now I just have to get past the fear of getting on this damned ship.

“Seriously, what’s the big deal about cruise ships? You’ve been acting like a grump since the day I told you I booked it.” Lizzy’s speaking to me but far too involved in keeping her luggage intact to really be paying attention.

“You’re kidding, right?” I sweep my hands at the ship, trying to convey everything in a single gesture. “I just know I’m going to die on this thing.”

“Oh really?” She pauses to catch her breath as she keeps shoving her stuff forward. “And what are you basing that on? Haven’t you read the stats on how safe cruise ships are? I swear I sent you at least a dozen links.”