Page 2 of A Perfect Disaster

I squeeze the folder so hard that the edge digs into the palm of my hand.

“No way,” I mutter to myself.

“Did you say something?” asks Silvia, one of the deck supervisors, who appears beside me with a tablet in her hand.

I look up quickly, trying to compose myself.

“No, nothing important. I was just reviewing the staff list.”

“Entertainment is arriving today, too. I think their coordinator is already settling into her cabin.”

“Of course she is. Because the universe not only has a sense of humor, but also a finely tuned sense of malice.”

“Perfect,” I reply, and although I sound convincing, I know full well that’s not the case at all. “I need to check the crew cabins, the signage, and the routes to the emergency assembly points.”

Silvia nods.

“Go ahead. Deck three, zone C. They’re finishing up room assignments.”

“Thanks.”

I walk away before she can notice my face burning. “I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous. No. I am. Nervous,” I repeat to myself. “I’m angry. That’s different. Much more dignified and controllable. Of course it is.”

I head down the internal stairs toward the crew area, and the atmosphere changes immediately. Upstairs, the Marine IV shows off its best and brightest side, as if we were in paradise itself. Down here, however, it moves in sync with the constant rush of those who make everything look easy and like a simple job from the outside. This is where the real human machinery is. There’s no room for nonsense, and above all, no room for Maika Aranda to have a say in this equation.

As I walk forward, I automatically check the emergency signs, the fire extinguishers, and the laminated floor plans next to the doors. “Okay, at least everything is in order.” My breathing begins to return to its normal rhythm. But then I hear a laugh at the end of the hallway. A damn laugh I’d recognize even surrounded by a huge commotion in the middle of a Bad Bunny concert. My body betrays me; I feel my stomach tighten, my mouth go dry, and something very unpleasant hit me right below my ribs. “No, Helen. Don’t even think about it.”

I look up and see Maika Aranda at the end of the hallway, leaning against a doorframe as if the entire ship had been waiting just for her. She’s wearing light-colored pants that look absolutely stunning on her, a white T-shirt tucked in, and her hair pulled back with a few loose strands caressing her forehead and cheeks. Her skin is sun-kissed, her lips curved into a distracted smile, and she has that magnetic presence that has always struck me as disrespectful to those of us who want to do our jobs well and not have accidents because we’re drooling.

Did I say drooling?

It seems I did, because in fact, she looks even more beautiful. Very, very beautiful. “Damn, it’s infuriating,” I tell myself. And I, unfortunately, still have eyes and a memory.

Maika turns her head at that moment and sees me. The smile freezes on her lips. For a few seconds, nothing else happens. You can only hear the usual sounds in this part of the cruise ship. And a second later, she straightens up.

“Helen?”

Hearing my name on her lips bothers me. Not because it sounds bad, but because it sounds too good, too alluring, delicious, spectacular, dreamlike, and… familiar.

“Maika,” I reply politely, even though my mind is already weighing the option of pushing her overboard, despite knowing the consequences.

Her eyes drop for a moment to my folder and then return to my face.

“I didn’t know you were assigned to the Marine IV.”

“I didn’t know Transmarine had lowered its selection standards that much either.”

A shadow crosses her expression. “Good. I’ve hit her where it hurts most.” This shouldn’t give me any satisfaction, of course, but it does.

“I see you’re still just as charming,” she notes, narrowing her eyes.

“And you’re still showing up where nobody asked you to.”

Maika bursts out laughing. Without a hint of humor, of course.

“I work here, just like you.”

“That’s what I’m trying to wrap my head around.”