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“We’re having a party, all right,” Bess says. “It’s called a grave. That’s a senior citizen’s version of a rave.” She glances my way. “Sorry, I had no choice but to group you in with the geriatric bunch.”
“It’s okay,” I pant. “I’m pretty sure that creature from the red lagoon just shaved ten years off the back end of my life.”
“You take that back, Trixie Troublefield.” Nettie holds the redheaded toy so close to her chest you’d think she were about to nurse him. “This little haughty has a name, or at least he will once I give it to him. What does he look like to you?”
“Trouble,” I offer.
“A curse is more like it,” Bess says.
“Well, I think he has a spark in his eyes,” Nettie says, inspecting him with a scrutinizing gaze. “And that’s what I’ll call him, Sparky.”
“Sparky, huh?” Bess rolls her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling he’s going to spark, all right. So help me, if the ship catches fire because of that little wooden menace, I’m never going to speak to you again.”
“Don’t listen to her, Sparky,” Nettie coos at the tiny terror. “She’s just jealous because she didn’t have the man of her dreams jump into her arms today.”
“I’ll jump in your arms later,” Dogo calls out from the front seat. He gives a wistful shake of the head. “What are the odds of us ending up in the same place at the same time, Bingo?”
“All right, I’ll bite.” Bess makes a face. “Bingo?”
Nettie shrugs. “He had a little trouble remembering my real name, so I just went with it. Plus, I thought it sounded exotic.” She holds her new redheaded flame close and I get a good gander at that petrified grin on his face. “Dogo is right. What are the odds of me seeing him here today? What are the odds of Nadine getting herself some lost luxury luggage? And what are the odds of me meeting the love of my life this afternoon?”
“Dogo?” I ask with a twinge of hope in my voice.
“No, Sparky,” she says with a dreamy sigh.
Bess looks my way. “Once the captain sees that she’s lost her mind, he’ll be forced to put her in an asylum. I take it her family won’t be too happy about it and we’ll be charged with contributory negligence.” She slumps in her seat. “You do realize she’s going to drag that monster all around the ship and we’ll be forced to stare into its creepy eyes for the duration of this trip.”
“And beyond,” Nettie says it like a battle cry.
Bess shakes her head. “This day just cannot get any worse.”
The sedan in front of us pulls into a driveway and on its tail, a sign emerges in my line of vision.
A hard groan comes from me. “It just got worse.”
The sign in question reads Welcome to Canopy Zipline Tours.
Both Nettie and Bess groan as they read the sign themselves.
The three of us have all been ziplining before, but that was on the ship. To put it in perspective, if the ship were a standard single-family home, that is essentially the equivalent of swinging from the living room to the kitchen.
But this?
The small print on the sign reads Sail the span of a mile through clear blue skies and dangerous jungle canopies!
“Wonderful,” I mutter. “The things we do for justice.”
“That’s right,” Bess says. “I don’t see Ransom or Quinn out here wrestling dark powers and principalities.”
“Which one would Sparky be?” Nettie asks.
“Both,” Bess doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Although something tells me Ransom would be far more thrilled to be sailing through dangerous jungle canopies.”
“I’m not afraid,” Nettie says as we pull into a parking space. “Sparky makes me brave.”
“Sparky makes me question my sanity,” Bess mutters. “Come to think of it, so do you.” She nods to her best friend.
We get out and Dogo offers to wait for us once again as he rolls down his window and lights up a funny cigarette.
