Chapter 3

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Trip Tip: Pack a small power strip with multiple outlets. Cruise ship cabins often have limited outlets, so having a power strip can help you keep all your devices charged without any hassle.

"Ahoy,mates! It's time to make our demands known to the captain himself," the man with the scraggly beard says as he stomps over with a pretty redhead hot on his heels.

The redhead looks half his age with cheekbones as sharp as a butcher knife and big pouty lips that could double as a flotation device. She's squeezed herself into a gold dress that looks more like a tube sock—a rather short tube sock—than a tattered gown like the rest of the women flooding in, and she has on black suede boots that stretch past her knees. She has on a single gold hoop earring the size of an orange, she has an entire jewelry store's worth of pearl and gold necklaces roped around her neck, and there's even a rhinestone skull and crossbones bracelet taking up half of her left arm.

Bess leans toward the captain. "I believe this is the part where the ship gets hijacked."

"You can take me prisoner first," Nettie volunteers while holding out her wrists in hopes of being shackled. "I'll meet whatever dirty demands you've got, big boy. And if you're going to make someone walk the plank, I volunteer Big Red here." She hitches her head toward her bestie.

"Nettie Butterworth!" Bess cries. "Excuse us while we head to the lido deck. There's a buffet we need to pillage. Clearly, her hunger is bringing out homicidal tendencies."

The two of them take off bickering back and forth, and as much as I'd love to join them for our traditional pre-sailing feast, I'm curious to see what the pirate in question has to say, especially since he's their bearded fearless leader.

"Roger Maxell, pleased to meet you all." He gives another hearty arrr and I swear I just heard Ransom growl.

I'm afraid his tolerance for pirates is quickly fading.

"Welcome aboard," Wes says, tipping his hat in the process. "I've heard a lot about your club and I look forward to learning more. The Emerald Queen is honored to have you sailing with us."

"We're not just a club." The scraggly man laughs it off. "This is a bustling booze empire."

The redhead next to him gives a frenetic nod. "Jolly Roger Spirits is well on its way to becoming a Fortune 500 company. I'm Connie Maxwell, head wench," she says with a straight face and it takes everything in me to swallow down an unexpected laugh.

Tinsley perks up at the sound of gold doubloons jangling. "Tinsley Thornton, your cruise director." She quickly shakes both of their hands. "I spoke to your event planner over the phone."

"That would be Elsie James," Roger says as he quickly glances around until he nods over at a buxom blonde wearing a red flowing dress that looks as if it were shredded by a pack of hungry wolves. She looks about my age, in her fifties, and her blonde hair is curled and twirled and teased into oblivion and she, too, has her fair share of gray locks as well. Her cheeks are as full as her lips, and she's chatting away with a dark-haired gentleman with a faux parrot on his shoulder.

The two of them seems to be having a rather conspiratorial-looking conversation and I watch as he caresses her back as he whispers in her ear.

"Elsie is a handful," Connie snips.

"But aren't we all?" Roger holds his belly as his whole body shakes with a laugh.

He's sort of a cross between Santa and Captain Sparrow at this point.

"Nevertheless," Tinsley continues, "I can assure you, we have a full itinerary planned for your club—and the entire ship, starting with the Buccaneer Welcome Bash and ending with the Swashbuckler's Soiree on our last night at sea."

Wes nods. "And I made sure the ship was well stocked on Jolly Roger Spirits for all to enjoy as well."

A raucous cry of glee breaks out at the captain's boozy declaration.

"Aye, aye, captain," Roger shouts. "We'll get right to drinking! Hear that, everyone?" he shouts to the scallywags among us. "Captain's orders, bottoms up!"

They take off in a mob, and yet more and more pirates seem to be flooding in.

"I think we've officially been hijacked by pirates," I say.

"Not on my watch," Ransom growls before kissing me on the cheek. "I've got a briefing with my staff I need to attend. I'll see you at the welcome party?"

"I wouldn't miss it. I'll be the wench happiest to see you. And then we'll talk," I say a touch too serious, but then, I did promise him I'd fill him in on the things I've been holding back. And they're no laughing matter.

"Looking forward to it." He waggles his brows before taking off, and Wes takes his spot.

"So you're really going to do it?" he whispers as Tinsley and the rest of the crew get back to greeting the guests that continue to stream on board.

I give a firm nod. "I'm going to tell Ransom my secret even if it kills me—or us." I close my eyes at the thought of losing him.

"You'll be fine," Wes says. "And I'll be here for you no matter what."

He holds my gaze a moment too long before reclaiming his position next to Tinsley and being mobbed by a group of rowdy women all wearing black and gold pirate hats.

I take off for the lido deck, but since every pirate and their mother seems to be off in that direction as well, I decide to head to my room first instead.

There is nothing like the buzz of energy on the first day of a cruise. The ship is gleaming with its polished brass, sparkling glass, and fresh scent of being cleansed from top to bottom. It doesn't hurt that every last inch of this magnificent ship is opulent, from its lavish crystal right down to the dizzying fleur de lis pattern of the emerald carpet. Glorious artwork hangs from the walls, and don't get me started on the marble sculptures that are dotted around the ship. The life-size David in the main hall is a sight to behold, and as Nettie likes to say, two sights to behold if you're looking from the right angle.

To my surprise, the door to my cabin is festooned with pink and gold tinsel, and for a second I think there might be a mistake. But the number to my cabin is correct, and my luggage is sitting in front of the room. My keycard works, so there's that.

I enter the cozy suite and the hint of lemony freshness from the cleaning staff hits me. I no sooner turn on the lights than I see the entire cabin is decorated with pink and gold banners and tassels. But it's the two dozen hot pink roses sitting in a vase on the desk that get my full attention.

"Oh my goodness." I gasp as I head over and read the tiny card that's set among the petals. "Trixie, my love for you is burned over my heart like fire on stone. There is nothing on this planet that can change that. Ransom."

I take a deep breath and blink back the tears in my eyes. Technically, ghosts are no longer a part of the planet and it does make me wonder if they're the exception.

Although, who knows? This might be my very first cruise without a ghost to muck up the waters.

Hey? Maybe confessing my supernatural quirk to Ransom will break my unlucky streak with the pesky phantasms?

A rattling noise emits from the balcony and I glance that way to see a man dressed in full pirate regalia—think bedraggled wool coat, tattered shirt and pants, large black hat, requisite eye patch, and beard made out of—snakes?

A scream gets locked in my throat as he floats my way and wags a crooked finger in my face.

"I've been waiting for you," he shouts so unearthly loud the entire room quakes, and those snakes in his beard spasm every which way.

A scream evicts from me as he floats right through my body before disappearing into a vat of miniature stars.

So much for having a ghost-free trip.

Here's hoping dead men do tell tales.