Chapter 19

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Hi, Trixie! It's me, Shelby. Well, that conversation with Ned went south faster than a snowman on a waterslide. I suggested, as gently as I could, that he might benefit from some professional help, considering what I thought were sure signs of a gambling addiction. Can you believe, he turned right around and accused me of needing therapy for my shopping habits? The argument only escalated from there, with both of us throwing names and accusations, none of which were pretty. It was a clear reminder of why we ended up divorcing in the first place. And to think, I actually wanted to help that nutcase!

Running from trouble,

Shelby

Dear Running,

It sounds as if you had quite the standoff. While it's not the reconciliation we hoped for, it sounds like you both hit the jackpot on self-awareness. Maybe the real therapy is the arguments you had along the way? Keep your chin up and your shopping bags in hand. Onward to smooth sailing!

XOXO Trixie

Paradise isn't allit's cracked up to be. It's hot. It's rife with bodies. And you're not always guaranteed the best seat at the bar—with the exception of now. Or at least for me.

"I'll take the open seat," I whisper to Ransom as we float our way to the swim-up bar where Elsie James is currently perched on a submerged stool.

The crystal clear water of the pool mirrors the bright blue Caribbean sky above, and I can't wait to get under the protective awnings that sit above the bar and offer shade to the entire area.

Elsie is chuckling away as she chats with the bartender and looks pleased as rum punch to be here—as does everyone else on this perfect tropical day. She's looking fun and flirty in a purple ruffled one-piece that seems about two sizes too small and her blonde curls are teased up over her head a good half a foot.

The crowds are thick here this afternoon. Almost everyone is in some sort of pirate garb even in the pool, mostly hats and eye patches. It's safe to say that Sapphire Cay has been taken over by pirates, and the people at the bar—in front of and behind—are no exception.

"I'll take the other open seat," Ransom whispers right back. The scent of his spiced cologne warms me as we navigate our way around the people enjoying this massive swimming pool set on a Sapphire Cay.

"What other seat?" I squint at the seemingly endless marble counter sheltered with palm fronds and a colorful awning. The stools might be immersed in the pool, but the marble counter sits up out of the water to ensure all snacks and beverages stay dry enough for us to enjoy.

The only open seat next to Elsie is to the right of her because there just so happens to be a surly pirate in full regalia to her left. And don't think I'm frowning at the fact he's fully clothed in a public swimming pool.

I'm not sure why that seems unhygienic, but it does.

Come to think of it, the words public swimming pool seem unhygienic in general.

Bess, Nettie, and Elodie are seated about six feet to Elsie's left and the three of them are surrounded by enough sea dogs to make any wench happy. And believe me, two of the three women are very, very happy indeed. I'll let you guess which two.

I land in the seat to Elsie's right, and to my shock and horror, Ransom lands in the seat to Elsie's left—landing smack dab in the middle of the surly pirate decked out to the scraggly nines—snakes for a beard and all.

"Gah," I scream a little at the sight. "Oh, it's you," I pant with slight relief as Hank lifts a ghostly stein brimming with beer in his hand.

Hank ensconces Ransom in a lime-green ethereal glow, and I'll admit, seeing Hanks' face superimposed over Ransom's—seeing snakes wiggling out from Ransom's handsome face—is an unnerving sight.

Ransom cocks his head to the side, looking momentarily perplexed by my shock to see him.

"Have we met?" he teases as if playing along with my sudden surprise.

I make a face. "Play your cards right and we'll meet in my cabin around midnight," I tease right back and Elsie belts out a belly laugh that darn near causes a tsunami in the water around us.

"Why don't I move over and the two of you can sit together?" She winks my way. "I make a great wing woman."

I laugh at the offer. "Thank you, but that hot stuff happens to be my boyfriend. No need to move. Elsie, this is Ransom?—"

"Baxter," Elsie finishes for me. "I've already met the good detective." She offers a warm smile his way. "I'm sorry that our crew has made your crew work overtime this cruise. We can be a surly bunch."

"Aye, can they." Hank lifts his drink a notch. "But what's a pirate without a little pleasure? And without a little rum to make all things that much more pleasurable?"

Ransom stiffens. "Your crew suddenly has me in the mood for rum."

The bartender comes by and Ransom orders a drink called Blackbeard's Elixir, a rum and Coke concoction, and I order a Mermaid's Kiss, something blue and fruity, and virginal (much like the way this self-invoked dry spell is making me feel). I frown over at Ransom without meaning to.

"Ahoy, matey," Elsie greets the bartender with her empty glass. "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a bottle of Jolly Roger rum for me," she says with a laugh that sounds like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "Just kidding. Another shot will do."

Within seconds, all three drinks appear as if the bartender suddenly morphed into a magician.

"Here's to finding our fortune in paradise," Elsie says, holding her drink in the air between us. "Whether it's buried gold or just the perfect sunset."

"Hear, hear," shouts Hank, and Ransom ticks his head to the side, looking stunned as if he heard.

"Hear, hear," he parrots, holding up his drink. "I'm not sure why, but it's almost as if I can feel the pirate spirit around me."

"You'd have to be blind not to see it," Elsie muses at the décor. And she's right. There are more black flags with skulls and crossbones, colorful parrots—both fake and real—and eye patches than even a pirate would know what to do with.

"To finding our treasure in paradise," I call out. "Whether it be gold or just a good time," I sing, putting a twist on Elsie's toast.

"Or a killer," Hank adds and Ransom reaches for his gun despite the fact it's not strapped to his waist—or anywhere on his person for that matter.

I guess sitting inside a spirited entity has his own spirit on high alert.

That's interesting to note.

For the next few minutes, our conversation flows as easily as the rum, drifting from tales of legendary pirates to the escapism of the LARPing lifestyle. And every now and again our attention is hijacked by the intermittent bouts of hysterical laughter coming from the other end of the bar—from Nettie and Elodie to be specific. Bess seems to be the sober man out and I'm thankful for that. Something tells me I'll need her help in getting those two sea lushes back to the ship in one piece.

"Get on with it," Hank growls my way. "Don't ye sit here dilly-dallying while there's a perfectly good informant to interrogate."

Ransom lifts a finger as if to suggest something to me, but the puzzled look on his glowing green face looks stumped as to what and why.

I have a feeling he knows exactly what he was going to say, he's just afraid to out the fact we're here to investigate.

Smart since Elsie can actually hear him.

"Elsie," I lean her way, "I had a chance to speak with Connie while we were in Barbados. I offered my sympathies and we had a pretty nice conversation. She seems like a sweet girl."

Hank chuckles and Elsie ticks her head to the side as if she, too, were contesting the idea.

"More like a good girl gone bad," Elsie mutters under her breath. "And I'm about to tell you exactly how bad she can be."