Best Friends & Other Liars Page 7

  I nod. “Definitely. But you can go if you want. I’ll just order room service—”

  “Oh, God, Vi! That’s incredibly sad and pathetic.”

  I shake my head. “Not to a working mother with three teenagers. To me it sounds like a dream. As a matter of fact, you probably could have booked a night in the hotel down the road from my house and it would be just as relaxing.”

  “Now you tell me,” Leah says with a grin. “You could have saved me a couple bucks.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Our good natured ribbing is interrupted by the woman in white scrubs from reception.

  “Um, yeah?” I say, not sure which one of us she is referring to as ma’am. It’s probably me, being the haggard, older one.

  “Your pedicurist is waiting for you.” She sweeps her hand toward the open door. “I’ll show you to the room.”

  “Um, okay.” I glance at Leah. “Just me? You’re not getting a pedicure?”

  Leah shakes her head and points to her fully painted toenails. “No, I went this morning.” As soon as she speaks, she cringes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m not going to get mad about anything on this trip.” Leah looks at me skeptically. “I swear.”

  “Well, if you’re okay, I’m going to head back to the room to shower. Um, before the meet and greet. If…you know…you’re okay with me going.”

  “Of course I’m okay with you going.” I give her a little shove. “Seriously, I’m actually excited about a night alone with a room service cheeseburger and my book. And some wine.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Leah says, eyes trailing down my robe. “I don’t want to come back to the room to find you humping all the pillows.”

  “Leah!” I gasp, too embarrassed to look at the woman in scrubs. I can only imagine what she thinks of us after Leah’s lewd remarks.

  Leah laughs as she edges past us and down the hall toward the exit. I can still hear her laughing as I follow the woman to the room for my pedicure.

  LEAH

  “Wow, you look amazing!”

  Vi lets out a wolf whistle as I emerge from the death trap they’re passing off as a bathroom.

  “You must need glasses,” I scoff. “I can’t get my hair completely straight. I think they bottle up humidity in this place and release it in the bathroom.”

  I peer at myself in the small mirror that’s affixed above the dresser/cabinet. There is an entire section of hair on the left side of my head that won’t stay flat, and another section on the right that is all about the frizz. After twenty-five minutes of flat-ironing with the best products on the market, you think my hair would be straight as a rod and smooth, but no. Not this hair. Ugh.

  “It looks great, Leah. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Vi says. She is lounging on the bed, back propped up against the headboard, a pile of books and magazines scattered on the comforter. The magazines all have pages ripped out—next to Vi is a stack of those pages.

  “What are you doing?”

  Vi beams at me and grabs the book next to her left leg. “I’m reading this great book I found at the spa when I was getting my pedicure. The pedicure lady said I could borrow it. It was all about how to reclaim your life. I’m making a vision board!”

  “A vision board? What kind of crap is that?”

  Vi’s face falls and I immediately regret my harsh words toward her precious vision board. Whatever the hell that is.

  “I mean, what’s a vision board?” I offer her a smile and hope she doesn’t notice that it’s fake.

  “You don’t want to know,” Vi says, looking back down at her magazines. “You’ll just make fun of me.”

  “No, I won’t,” I tell her, reminding myself that I cannot renege on that promise, no matter how stupid this vision board thing turns out to be.

  “It’s just…well, finding pictures of things I want to have in my life…in the future,” Vi mumbles, returning her attention to cutting out pictures with a pair of nail scissors. “I’m going to paste them on a poster board when we get home and hang it on the fridge or somewhere. That way I can be reminded of my goals every day.”

  I’m not sure what she means, so I crane my neck to look at the pictures. They are rather vague snippets—a graduate, a basketball player, a woman doing yoga, a salad.

  “Um, okay. What do they mean?” I ask, hoping she’ll enlighten me as to what these pictures have to do with anything.

  “This one is for Jeremy,” Vi says, pointing to the basketball player. “It would be great if he could get a basketball scholarship to college.”

  “Um, okay,” I repeat, still not seeing what this has to do with Vi’s goals.

  “And this one is for all the kids,” she says, indicating the graduate. “I want them to all graduate college.”

  Um, hmmm.

  “And then this,” she points to the salad, “is to remind me that I have to get them to eat more vegetables. Well, not Jeremy, but the other two. They would eat garbage if it was cool ranch flavored.”

  “Vi,” I try to interrupt, but she’s rattling on about the other pictures, pointing to them, all somehow linked to her kids.

  “And the alarm clock is to remind me that I have to get Jeremy to—”

  “Vi!” I am now shouting.

  “What?” she finally looks up at me.

  “I think the idea of the vision board is for your goals for you. Not goals for the kids.”

  “It is,” Vi says defensively. She points to the picture of the woman doing yoga. “This one is for me.”

  “To remind you to do yoga more and take care of yourself?”

  Vi shakes her head. “No, it’s to remind me to relax and not fly off the handle so quickly when the kids upset me.”

  I sigh audibly. It’s useless. Vi will never put herself first as long as the kids are living in her house. And even after they move out I bet she’ll be the kind of mother to make her kids lunch and deliver it to their houses every morning.

  “Great, Vi,” I say, trying not to sound as annoyed at her as I am. “Where did you get the magazines?”

  She turns a shade of pink that I haven’t seen on her since she told me about losing her virginity. Actually, that little secret I practically had to drag out of her. “Um, I took them from the lobby. I didn’t have any magazines and—”

  “It’s fine, Vi,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not going to report you.” As long as you don’t flip out when I tell you about the Divorce Cruise.

  Vi sighs with relief. I can’t believe she gets upset and nervous about the silliest things.

  “I’m going to head out then, I guess.” I jerk my thumb toward the door.

  “I can’t believe you’re going without me,” Vi says, flopping back onto the pillow, startling me a little bit.

  Does she want to come with me? I hope not. I don’t really feel like having a confrontation about the divorce cruise tonight. I just want to have a few drinks and actually relax without having to be on guard about slipping up.

  “I would never be able to go without you,” she continues.

  Oh great, dig the knife deeper.

  “Listen, Vi—”

  “I think it’s great that you can go without me,” Vi says in a dreamy voice. “I wish I had your confidence, Leah.”

  “Huh?”

  Vi sits up straight, folding her legs underneath her body. “I wish I was like you. You can go to this meet and greet not knowing anyone, and you don’t even break into a sweat. I, on the other hand, can’t do anything without someone holding my hand all the way.”

  “That’s not true, Vi. You do plenty on your own.”

  “It is true,” Vi protests. “I wouldn’t have even met my husband if it wasn’t for you.”

  I groan. “Don’t remind me that it’s all my fault.”

  “Leah…” Vi says in her warning tone—the one she uses when she wants to stop me from bashing that good-for-nothing husband of hers. I really don�
��t know why she cares so much. Less than nine hours ago she wanted to kill him. I seriously would have helped her bury the body. Amazing how fast her alliances change.

  “Okay, are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask, wondering what would happen if she did change her mind. I’m pretty certain if Vi is settled in for the night there is no way she will voluntarily get out of her pajamas and get dressed, but one never knows.

  “I’m sure.” She smiles at me. “Have fun.”

  “I will.”

  I am about to leave the room when Vi calls out, “Don’t forget your key! And a sweater in case it gets chilly! It’s still December!”

  “Yes, Mom,” I reply, smirking as I grab a sweater off the hook by the door. I think it is Vi’s, but it doesn’t really matter. I probably won’t use it anyway. As for my key, that’s snug in my cross-body bag across my chest. “Good night!”

  The door slams behind me and I head down the hallway toward the elevator. People are emptying out of their rooms from both sides of the hallway, and by the time I get to the elevator, it’s quite congested in the vestibule.

  “Ugh,” I mutter under my breath as I look for the nearest set of stairs. I find them around the corner from the elevator—hidden—as if they want everyone to clog up the elevators...and their hearts. Not that I’m one to talk about heart health or anything, but I think I’m in better shape than all these middle aged people on this boat. At least the men.

  Even though I’ve only been through a couple parts of the boat, the men I’ve seen so far leave much to be desired. I guess it’s a good thing I’m only on this cruise for Violet, otherwise, it’d be a lost cause for the dating scene.

  I must be completely submerged in my thoughts as I puff up the staircase because I don’t even notice the guy coming down the staircase on the same side. I smack right into him, tripping backward down three stairs.

  I am momentarily stunned as I try to shake it off. Woozily, I look up at him, his hand outstretched to me, and am flabbergasted. For a second, I think Rhett Butler is offering to help me up like I’m Scarlett O’Hara. I swear I even hear music swelling in the background. In fact, I’m so shocked that I can’t even get my hands to work—he has to lean down even farther to take my hand in his.

  He has to be the most stunningly gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Well, maybe not ever, but definitely the best looking man on this boat filled with Viagra poppers and hair plug spokesmen.

  He’s tanned and fit, muscles straining against his gray cut off T-shirt. His crystal blue eyes sparkle, his smile not ending with his pearly white teeth. They don’t even look like they’ve been whitened by toothpaste. They look like they’re the original whiteness of this guy’s teeth. And the best part is he’s not old. In fact, I barely think he’s old enough to have been married and divorced…unless he was twelve years old at the time.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling me to my feet, my hand sliding in his like a slippery eel. I feel like a puddle of electrified Jello. If that’s even a thing.

  I stare at him for a second, trying to figure out what he’s saying. He’s sorry? What’s he sorry about? The fact that I’m obviously a klutz?

  “I was on the wrong side of the staircase,” he explains. “I bumped into you. That’s, um…why you fell.”

  Ohhh. So it’s his fault.

  Despite the fact that he nearly killed me, he smiles like the whole thing is just a private joke between the two of us, a dimple creasing in his cheek. My heart begins to gallop at an unnatural pace. I’m a sucker for a guy with a dimple. Oh, who am I kidding? The fact that he doesn’t have any wrinkles makes me a sucker for this guy.

  “Um, yeah, silly!” I straighten my dress, praying the draft I feel on my hooha is only from the breeze the hall and not a wardrobe malfunction. I try to laugh nonchalantly, but I end up tittering nervously like some Victorian spinster trying to snag a man. I nearly swallow my tongue with embarrassment.

  Still, the guy continues to grin at me—until the clock chimes on the wall. His face contorts and his eyes widen.

  “Crap, I had no idea it was that late. Nice to meet you,” he says. “Sorry again,” he adds as he dashes off down the stairs like Cinderella at midnight. He does not lose a shoe so I can later identify him, though, much to my dismay.

  I stare after him, mouth agape. Oh my God, Leah, you idiot! You completely ruined it by behaving like you’ve never spoken to another human being before! Of course that guy is gonna run for the hills.

  Disgusted that I blew my first, and probably only chance at romance on this cruise, I pull myself together and head in the direction of the ballroom, trying to forget about the gorgeous stranger.

  LEAH

  “And that lady with the hat?” Vi squeals with delight as we exit the elevator. “Oh, my gosh, what did she think this was? The Kentucky Derby?”

  “Well, maybe an Easter parade,” I reply. “I think the hat had a bird in it.”

  Vi shoves my arm and laughs. “Seriously, Leah. You really need to get your eyes checked. Those were flowers!”

  I cringe. Crap. My vision is definitely worse than I thought it was. I could have sworn the woman was wearing a hat with a canary on top.

  “At least she took that guy with the bad hairpiece out of the game. Gag. I couldn’t stand to look at his head for another moment.” I wiggle my finger at her. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t a toupee. Even half blind I can spot a bad hairpiece from a mile away.”

  The day had been perfect.

  After a leisurely breakfast, Vi and I spent the morning relaxing in the “conservatory”, an area enclosed in glass at the back of the ship. The sun warmed and relaxed us through the glass. There were books and computers with actual Wi Fi. Vi caught up on her reading and I resisted the urge to check into my work email. Instead, I spent an hour reading about the Kardashians and taking quizzes on social media. Then we visited the indoor pool—it was in a similarly enclosed glass area. It was still too chilly outside still to use the regular pool, but the indoor one was perfect, heated and everything.

  At lunch time, we wandered around the deck trying to decide what to eat and we discovered a wine tasting lesson being held in one of the restaurants. Three hours later, we were stuffed with wine and six different kinds of cheeses when we collapsed into plush chairs in the mini-theater to watch a comedian make fun of the various bald men on the cruise. We laughed so hard our sides hurt. Then we were entertained with a version of The Dating Game with seriously old people. It should have been called The Too Old to Be Dating Game.

  And the best part of the whole day? Not one mention of the “divorce cruise”. It’s not like it’s being advertised anywhere. I guess people going through divorce don’t want to be reminded of it…which works for me. Maybe I’ll never have to tell Vi about it at all. I mean…there’s not even a real reason to tell Vi about it at this point.

  “It was amazing being entertained all day,” Vi says to me as we head back to our room to shower and change before dinner.

  “So much fun. And so relaxing,” I agree.

  “Almost makes me want to consider living on a cruise ship after I retire,” Vi says teasingly.

  I pause in my tracks—she’s smirking at me. She knows I would fall apart if she moved away.

  “I’m kidding,” she says, giving me a playful shove. “You know I’d never leave you.”

  I grumble half-heartedly at her as we reach our room. I’m actually thrilled that Vi is joking around and seems to be having a good time. Her mood is much improved from the attitude she had when boarding this ship a mere twenty-four hours ago.

  “Darn, I left my key in the room,” Vi says. “Can you open the door?”

  I fumble for the keycard around my neck. It’s a little difficult to grasp at while carrying a towel and a magazine. As I pop open the door, the magazine slips from my hand, sliding onto Vi’s flip flopped feet.

  “I got it,” she says, bending down to pick it up.

  “Thanks.”

>   I step into the room and dump my belongings on the bed. Vi walks in behind me, slamming the door closed with her foot while she thumbs through the magazine in awe.

  “You’ve got to see these pictures of J Lo after she had her kids. How can people lose weight like that? I still have my pregnancy weight and my kids are teenagers.” She grunts with disgust and tosses the magazine onto the bed. It lands next to the swan that our maid has created out of our towels and washcloths. “I almost hit the cute swan!” Vi squeals as she claps her hands in delight.

  She reaches out and pats the swan’s head, and that’s when I see it. A square of paper sticking out from the swan’s bottom. I wouldn’t have even noticed it if I wasn’t right next to the bed.

  Under the guise of examining the towel origami, I reach for the swan with one hand, snatching the paper up with the other. Fortunately Vi has already forgotten about the swan and is peering at herself in the small mirror over the piece of furniture masquerading as a dresser.

  “Oh great. My nose is bright red,” Vi sighs, poking at her nose. “I can’t believe I got burnt inside. Well, I guess it is true you can get a sunburn through glass.” She starts yammering on about how irresponsible she was for not applying sunscreen.

  I use this opportunity to ball the piece of paper up in my hand. I don’t know what it says—it could be a thank you note from the maid or something, but given the fact that a similar note was left yesterday announcing the “meet and greet”, I don’t want to take the chance that this particular piece of paper blows my cover. After all, Vi is having such a nice time. We both are. I don’t want to spoil it by possibly angering her at my subterfuge.

  “I think I forgot my cover-up by the pool,” I tell Vi quickly, realizing that I am indeed wearing my cover-up. Vi doesn’t notice since she’s took busy poking at her face and bemoaning her lack of sunscreen usage.

  “Uh, huh,” she murmurs as I slip out into the hall, clutching the piece of paper.

  I practically run down the hall, the paper quickly getting sweaty in my hand. When I reach the elevator bank and I am satisfied that Vi isn’t behind me, I peel the paper open. I start to read the note, my jaw immediately dropping open.