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Chapter Fifteen
Cammie had noted that while Zane hadn’t made any promises to help her find Frankie’s body, he hadn’t said no either. She knew where he was coming from. Sniffing around for a dead body was going to bring attention to them eventually, but she hoped he’d learn enough through Jasper to take the chance at exposing himself as a PI. Besides, if they did it right, they might just get away with snooping and not being caught.
Zane had waffled on the commitment, but she had time to convince him—something she was beginning to realize applied to their relationship status as well.
She’d come onto the cruise looking for a hookup and nothing else but had waltzed right into the arms of an amazing guy who’d ticked all her ‘yes’ buttons—repeatedly and with utmost satisfaction. The chaos he tended to bring, the spontaneity, was growing on her, too. She wanted to see where things would go between them back in the real world.
“Bill and his posse will be at the Gentlemen’s Club.” Okay, it wasn’t called a Gentlemen’s Club per se but it might as well have been called that. When Zane screwed up his face, she added, “The Burlesque Room.”
Understanding dawned and Zane nodded. “Good thinking. No need to register for that one.” Which meant he wouldn’t have found it in any of his algorithms. “They open the bar in that room early, don’t they?”
“Yes, breakfast mimosas on tap, according to the website, and if I know men like Bill—which I do—he’ll be there first thing, while the girls are fresh.” She rolled her eyes.
The dancers rotated in and out to keep them from getting too exhausted. They were supreme athletes, but burlesque was demanding and, with a cruise like this, the audience would want big and bold. Cammie had read on the site that they not only performed acrobatics but they used ribbons and hoops suspended from the ceiling for much of their show. Bill would likely be half in the bag by noon and too drunk to notice the difference from one girl to the next, so he’d never know that the fresh girls he was watching were different throughout the day. Same thing happened at Kitty Cat events… The men liked to think they had their favorites among the performers but they never could really tell who was who with all the makeup and costumes.
“I say we swoop in there all casual, like we’re checking out something new, then cross our fingers that Bill catches sight and does his usual thing,” Cammie said.
“I think we can count on him doing his usual thing… ‘There’s my sweet little honey pot girl’,” Zane teased with a southern drawl.
Cammie swatted him but laughed all the same as they made their way down two flights of stairs to the deck that hosted a movie theater, an adult arcade and the Burlesque Room, which was really more of a games’ room with dancers.
The lighting was dimmed so it looked like it was the middle of the night rather than first thing in the morning. The music was classic burlesque—a gravelly female singer belted out an updated version of I Put a Spell on You on the stage, surrounded by dancers, which only added to the dark and mysterious atmosphere of the space. Like everywhere on the ship, the room was ‘decked out to the tits’, as Sabine would say. There was an over-the-top feel about the decor—gilded everything—seriously making it look like someone had puked gold leaf onto anything that was stationary. Even the chairs, which were a deep, plush red velvet, had gold brushed along the arms and frames. There was a large oak wood bar along the back wall, with two bartenders, who were dressed as fetishized versions of their Wild West counterparts. Their chests were bared and nipples clamped, ball gags making sure they couldn’t speak, which was an interesting touch, and chaps with strategically placed thongs that looked more like leather dick wraps than anything else.
Zane’s eyes widened more and more as he took in the chaos, and Cammie had to wonder if the shenanigans in the room were pushing any of his boundaries because, so far, she hadn’t found anything that bothered him when it came to sex, sexual expression or fetishes in general.
One of the dancers swung lazily on a thin metal hoop. Her ass precariously balanced so that her legs were crossed like she was riding a horse side-saddle. She wore nothing but body paint and, as Zane got within range, she swooped down, hanging from her knees and whooshed over the top of his head, blowing him a kiss as she passed by.
Zane ducked, checked to make sure she wasn’t on her way back to buzz him a second time, then straightened. “This is…um…interesting.”
The dancer swept by them again, this time, spread out like a star, her hands holding the top of the hoop and her feet on the bottom as she began to twirl herself around like a spinning top. Cammie could only imagine what fortitude it took not to barf all over the crowd below and thanked the steel stomach of every one of the acrobats and dancers who were blissfully doing their thing without losing their breakfasts. She had mad respect for their skills. Mad respect.
Another dancer was rolling and unrolling herself from ribbons that were anchored to the ceiling. She flipped her way almost to the top of one of the tables, making the guests all gasp, before hoisting herself elegantly back up again.
Cammie caught sight of Bill Haversmith before he caught sight of her, so for a moment—and it was truly only a moment—she got to watch him without him doing his usual song and dance for her. He was still putting on a show, his arms flailing, voice booming almost louder than the music, face red and drink sloshing, but it was the expression on the faces of those he was supposedly entertaining that was the true window. Of the members at his table, only two were people she recognized—his son Jasper and his pal Elm—but every one of the people keeping Bill company were looking at him with open mockery. And he didn’t see it. Or if he did, he didn’t care. It made Cammie feel bad to witness such disdain as clear as day on every expression, not just from Bill’s son, but from all his supposed friends. Bill was a leech and a nuisance, but her empathy button had always been sensitive when it came to the underdog. Not that a millionaire sexist man was really ever an underdog, but still, it tugged at Cammie’s heartstrings to see such little respect flashing Bill’s way.
“Why, look who it is, my delectable cookie, Cammie!” Bill pushed his chair back and waved Cammie and Zane over “You two are just inseparable, aren’t you? Seems like I can’t catch a break where this little morsal of sexy is concerned. I’d sure love to have a moment or two alone with you, sweet girl.”
Cammie’s empathy bubble popped, spattering to the floor like gunk.
“I’m afraid that’s not up to me,” Zane said. “Cammie does what Cammie wants.”
Bill laughed in his booming way then motioned to the chairs. “Join us!”
“Actually, Zane, didn’t you say you were dying to play pool?” She pointed to the arched doorway off to the side where a pair of pool tables sat. She scanned the crowd at Bill’s table. “Jasper, do you play? Zane would really love a game or two if you do.”
“I sure do!” Jasper all but jumped at the chance to leave the table, just as Cammie suspected he would.
Zane gave her a subtle nod before heading off with Jasper.
Cammie took the seat he vacated, which happened to be right next to Bill. “There you go, Bill. You’ve got me all to yourself.”
“Well, not quite, but I’ll take it.” He waved a server over. “Drink for you, Cammie?”
“I’ll have a soda water.”
“Ach, still on the water, eh? Well, make sure you put a little lime in there for Cammie here, would ya?” He nudged her. “You hungry?”
“No, thanks, we just had a big breakfast.”
