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I can’t see Kenna’s reaction, but Viola blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. “Let’s get out there. They’re about to board.”
Are they?
I wait until Viola and Kenna have left the bathroom, then I carefully slip my shoes into my straw bag and exit the stall.
I slowly pull the outer door open.
I can only see the lounge door and a narrow swath of the lobby, but it’s bustling. People talk and laugh, holding coffee cups and plates.
My traitorous stomach growls again.
Hush, now.
I spot Rhett and almost stumble backward.
Viola is right. He looks good. He’s tall and tan, his dark hair sweeping across his forehead like Henry Cavill’s version of Superman. He’s always had broad shoulders, but they are particularly prominent in his pale-yellow polo, the fabric stretching over his chest.
He smiles and shakes hands with everyone as if he owns the company. Which he does not. But he’s definitely Dougherty’s right-hand man.
Dougherty himself never visits the office. I don’t know if he’s even coming on the cruise. I worked there for two years and never met him, not even at a holiday party.
A woman I don’t know heads for the bathroom, so I quickly back away from the door and retreat to my stall.
She pees quickly, washes swiftly, and heads out. While the door is open, I hear an announcement. “If you have been checked in, you may proceed out the side door to the dock.”
I might have to wait to be the very last person on. Riskier than my dashed plan of being first, but doable.
I peer out the door again. It looks like most of the company has checked in while I hid. They’re all inching in the same direction.
Rhett moves out of view. Then Viola and Kenna. Marney. The accounting crew. A couple of guys from tech. Husbands and wives, girlfriends, boyfriends.
When no one is visible, I step out and creep to the end of the hall. The early group is already disappearing through a glass door out the back of the lobby.
There are several people checking in, but I only know Peter from the maintenance staff and he probably won’t notice me. He’s staring at his phone.
I’ll take advantage of the lull.
I swiftly cross the lobby to the side door, where a woman smiles at me. “You have your keycard?”
I nod.
She notices my bare feet but says nothing.
Outside, a sidewalk lined with decorative ropes leads to the dock. Men and women in blue suits with white caps gesture to us to keep moving. I walk slowly, trying to avoid catching up with the rest of the group. The gap between them and me stretches out.
I’ve got this.
When I arrive at the metal ramp, a man holds out his hand to help me across the tiny gap between the dock and the threshold to the ship. “Watch your step.”
I hold his warm hand for only a moment, then I’m on the boat!
Inside the entrance, a woman waits, alone in a wood-paneled entryway. “Let me check your card, and I’ll direct you to your cabin.”
I pull it from the front pocket of my bag. She taps in the number, and a diagram appears on the screen. “Here’s where we are,” she says, pointing to a pulsing green dot. Dotted lines appear. “Follow the hallway to the right until it ends, then go up one set of stairs and your cabin will be about five doors down.”
I take my card. “Thank you.”
Voices trickle in from the outdoors. People are coming. I hurry toward the stairs, my feet flying along the navy carpet patterned with silver diamonds.
