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Oscar and Jamie are jabbering in the other room, barely audible through the closed door, and I’m glad to be alone for a minute. The only thing we have on our agenda tonight is the Lovers’ Masquerade that Mike and Anna have tickets to attend. I need to put my ankle up for a while before that starts. I open the bottle of champagne left on ice and take a glass out to the terrace to watch New Orleans disappear behind us.
If I ignore the fact I’m on a gigantic ship with six hundred-ish other people who are here for forced romance and fun, it’s almost nice. Today is overcast, but not raining like the last few weeks. The temperature is perfect in the slight breeze. I’m so glad my sister sprang for this room when she planned her anniversary. At least I’ll have a haven on board.
I snap a photo of my feet up on the lounger, my toes bright with their fresh coat of pink polish. Behind my feet, I capture the wide view, while also making sure the champagne glass is in the foreground. I send it to Anna.
Anna: Post that! It’s perfect.
Anna: Wait, one sec, will send a caption.
Anna: “Living my best life as I set sail for Caribbean adventures #FestivalCruises #HeartOfTheDeepShip #LoveatSea #BestLife #AnniversaryCruise.”
Zoey: If you’re going to do all the work, why not post yourself?
Anna: Oh, right, of course! And don’t forget to post a photo of LA in your own account soon, in case Mike gets suspicious.
Zoey: I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning. How is our fair city?
Anna: Mike is still at work. I’m in the coffee shop across the street.
Zoey: How are you feeling?
Anna: Nervous.
Zoey: You’ve got this.
Anna: I hope so.
I’m praying Anna doesn’t catch Mike cheating, or if she does, that it’s not in the heat of passion. That she sees him pecking his assistant on the lips while they leave work or something. I can’t bear to watch her get hurt. I down the rest of my champagne, and when I set the glass on the table, my phone lights up with a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Hey it’s Grant. Anna gave me your digits. How’s the cruise?
Holy shit! Not in my wildest dreams did I see this coming. I want to tell him everything. I don’t want to be here. Jamie’s already got a crush and I’m lonely. I wish Grant were here with me instead. But I don’t. I trust Grant because he puts his worst flaws right on the table where you can see them. I know how he operates. He has to be roped in. So, I send him back the same photo I sent to Anna.
Zoey: Living my best life. How are the wedding celebrations?
Grant: They haven’t started yet. I’m still in the Bayou. Head to NOLA in a couple days. Missing my neighbors, it’s quiet around here.
By neighbors, is he implying me? He was across the hall from me in our dingy short term housing hotel. My heart races and my palms sweat, but I have to play this cool. In the love department, I’ve always had a tendency to either over-share or to avoid any form of physical intimacy. It hasn’t turned out great in the past. And damn, would I like for Grant to turn out to be… something.
Zoey: I’m sure you’ll have fun once you meet up with your *date.*
Grant: Don’t remind me. Send updates so I can live through you. How about a full body shot on that lounge chair?
Zoey: Nice try, neighbor.
Is this the start of us sexting? My god. I’m not ready for that. I’ve never sexted with anybody before. What do I do? But even though I’m now fizzing all over, Grant doesn’t respond. I wait so long for his reply I must fall asleep. The next thing I know, I wake up in the dark. The wind howls around the sides of the boat, with no land in sight.
I grab my phone, only to find I’m already fifteen minutes late for the Masquerade. I also have a text from Jamie that says he’s gone in search of a Masquerade mask in the gift shop, and he’ll meet me at dinner. Of course, I understand. He packed last minute and didn’t have a mask on hand in his temporary rental housing, and Jamie is the sort of person who always wants to embrace the moment. But I wish he would have come back to get me before dinner. If for no other reason, now I have to walk with the crutch my doctor gave me, instead of hanging on his arm.
I dress in a rush, pinning up my hair, hastily doing my makeup bold and heavy the way Anna likes it, and shoving my way into the tight sequined dress she’s set aside for the Lovers Masquerade. The whole thing looks like something a Vegas showgirl would wear, with swirls of rose gold sequins covering up my important bits, and only skin-colored netting in between. It’s shocking that I’m going out in public wearing this.
I once dived naked off a misty waterfall at dusk, a stunt for a super creepy horror movie. I’ve jumped a horse over a canyon in nothing but a thong and a cape. But this is real life. Real people are going to see almosteverythingexcept my nips, cooch, and ass-crack. Awesome, Anna.
Closing my eyes, I try to pretend this is any other stunt. I’m in character as Anna Anderson-Bryson. I’m in love with my handsome husband, Mike. This is our anniversary cruise. But where is he? He’s been taken hostage, and I have to rescue him. I’m about to fight my way through a masquerade ball, kicking over tables and doing a handspring off a chair to bash somebody in the face with my stilettos.
Except tonight I’m sliding my feet into a pair of flat gold sandals that Anna insisted I wear for my ankle. I take a deep breath, pick up Anna’s gold-sequined mask, which is trimmed in huge rose-gold feathers, and head downstairs to the ship’s high-end steakhouse.
The more of the ship I see, the more it seems designed to film a seventies porno. The hallways are weird, lit up with red lights, and the elevators are downright crazy, what with their disco balls and blue bubble panels at the back. I snap a selfie in the elevator with the mask on and send it to Anna. I can’t believe I’m here, doing all this ludicrous stuff, but when she sends back a message with sixteen hearts in it, my chest warms.
