Chapter 4

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Hi, Trixie! Here's a twist I didn"t see coming, and I'm hoping you can help me navigate these choppy waters. My name is Ned, and I boarded this cruise to celebrate my recent freedom from what was a tumultuous marriage. Imagine my surprise when I found out my ex-wife, Shelby, is also on this ship with the same idea. But here's the kicker—before we finalized the divorce, I discovered a significant inheritance was left to me by a distant relative. Shelby doesn't know, and with our divorce papers freshly inked, I'm wondering about whether to share this news with her or not. After all, the crux of our marital troubles revolved around money. How do I handle this without creating more drama on what should be a journey of personal renewal?

Troubled on the high seas,

Ned

Dear Troubled,

Oh, Ned! Your situation is indeed unique. First, remember that your primary goal on this cruise is to find peace and move forward. And about your secret inheritance? I'll leave that up to you, but considering the timing and your current emotional state, it might be wise to wait until after the cruise to make any decisions about sharing this news.

Maybe hit the casino and ride the wave you're given. This journey is about your future, so focus on what will bring you peace and fulfillment.

XOXO Trixie

It'ssafe to say that seeing a man with snakes for a beard can just about scare the ghost out of anyone—especially if the man in question is a ghost himself.

I hardly take the time to toss my things into the closet before throwing on a tropical print A-line dress and hightailing it to the muster drill (a necessary evil if ever there was one). At this point, I'm proficient enough to lower the dinghies into the water myself should the panic-stricken need arise.

Afterward, I make my way to the promenade deck where the pirate-themed magic is happening, and the first thing I see is a large tattered sign that spans half the deck reading, Ahoy mateys!, and just below, It's time for the Buccaneer Welcome Bash!

Nets are draped over the twinkle lights, dotted with shimmering faux pearls and gold doubloons hanging from them. Old-world-looking lanterns have been attached to the crisscrossing string lights as well, swaying gently with the breeze as they cast a soft glow that makes the whole scene feel like something straight out of a storybook—a pirate's tale to be exact.

I no sooner take two steps onto the deck than I'm immediately mobbed by a sea of swashbucklers and saucy wenches. Every last sooted soul seems to be decked out in bedraggled garb, and there are enough tri-cornered hats to outfit an entire fleet of pirate ships. Every last soul aboard the Emerald Queen seems to have embraced their inner sea raider, if only for the night.

The peach sky glows as the setting sun bathes us all in a golden hue, casting long shadows over the merrymakers. The air is alive with the sound of rock music and the scent of salty air mingles with mouthwatering aromas wafting from the food stations scattered about.

Spiced rum cakes rule the culinary roost, along with skewers of grilled shrimp marinated in a rum and lime concoction, and those cheeseburger sliders are practically begging for me to take a bite. And don't get me started on the rest of the dessert offerings. Okay, fine. You've already got me started. There are mountains of pastries, miniature pies, and slices of chocolate cake so decadent my feet carry me in that direction, and soon I'm perusing the offerings up close and personal.

The buffet is a true pirate's bounty, overflowing with sweets that would tempt even the most disciplined of sailors—especially this one.

It's pretty much a well-established fact that I have no discipline when it comes to sweet treats. And I can place that blame squarely on my ex's cheating shoulders. Stanton is a plastic surgeon who made sure to guilt me into being thin, lest my figure ruin his plastic surgery practice. And now that I'm rid of the louse, and I've left behind all the plastic people he was so afraid I'd embarrass him in front of, I've sort of tossed all caloric caution to the wind. And on a delicious night like tonight, boy, am I ever glad.

Each dessert platter is staked with a black pirate's flag, complete with skull and crossbones, and printed beneath it is the name of the dessert. First, we've got black pearl chocolate truffles, nestled in a wooden chest, their glossy surfaces mirroring the stars above. And there's even a precious tiny pearl inside that bed of luscious chocolate. There's the rum-infused pirate's delight cake, a centerpiece so grand it's fit for the captain's table. It's a luscious layered cake that boasts of a rum cream filling and a butterscotch glaze that glitters like gold under the twinkle lights.

Next to that are the rum-soaked buccaneer brownies. Each one stands proud, looking like a potent combination of fudgy chocolate and the promises of warm, aged rum. And I don't waste a second before popping one into my mouth.

Mmm. Rum might be my new favorite food group.

"Oh my word," I moan through the decadent delight.

"It's a voyage of flavors, that's for sure." A buxom blonde chuckles as she steps up next to me and I recognize her as the woman that the head pirate of this rowdy bunch, Roger, pointed out at the gangway. Although, I'm coming up short on her name at the moment.

Her golden curls are teased every which way, she's still wearing the red dress that looks as if it were shredded by wolves, and the dim lighting creates deep shadows from her laugh lines. And in each hand she holds a bright blue cocktail.

"It sure is." I laugh as I swallow down the bite. "Hey, are you the event planner for this shindig?"

She nods. "For every shindig until we land back at Fort Lauderdale and beyond. I'm Elsie James. I'd shake your hand, but I've a couple of cocktails I'm committed to."

"I can see that," I say as we share a quick laugh. "One for each hand. That's how I eat my cookies—or in this case, rum-soaked brownies."

She gives a quick hoot of a laugh. "Oh honey, if it doesn't have rum in it, you're wasting your time."

"So nice to meet you. I'm Trixie Troublefield," I say with a chuckle. "I run the art classes on board. How long have you been—" I hold up a finger as I struggle to find the right word.

"A wench?" She barks out another laugh.

"I was going to say LARPer but didn't know if it fit."

"I think I prefer wench. I'm a call 'em like I see 'em type of gal. And I've been at this forever." She hikes the blue concoctions in her hands a notch. "I'd best deliver these. They're actually for Connie Parker—she's the head honcho's girlfriend. Roger Maxwell is the head of the Jolly Roger Spirits and the Jolly Roger Pirate Crew as well. That's the name of our little club." She wrinkles her nose with a smile. "I can't tell you how happy we are that the ship is being so accommodating to us. And like I said to your cruise director, we're thrilled to include any and every passenger willing to join the fun. We might be a rowdy bunch, but we're friendly to a lethal fault." She winks as she brushes by me, dancing to the music as she makes her way to where Roger and that redhead, Connie, stand, right in the middle of the merry melee.

"There she is," a female voice chirps from behind, and soon both Bess and Nettie are flanking me on either side. Bess has on a striped blouse with jeans and Nettie has on striped pants with a poufy white blouse. I'm betting that's their way of getting into the festivities tonight.

"All right, Trixie"—Bess gives an exasperated sigh as she reaches for a brownie—"it's up to you to talk some sense into this one. She needs to be tamed."

"There's not a woman on the planet who can tame me," Nettie huffs as she cranes her neck into the ever-blooming crowd. "Now a man? That's another story. There has to be at least one pirate here brave enough to handle what I've got to offer. And by handle, I mean ravage."

Bess rolls her eyes. "Nettie, the only thing these pirates are ravaging tonight are the buffet tables—and maybe the bar. Mostly the bar."

"What's this?" I ask as a grin slides up my face. "Nettie's on the prowl for a rogue pirate? I would have never guessed." I wink over at Bess as I reach for another brownie myself. "Let's be honest, Nettie plus pirates seems like a natural evolution."

"Not just any pirate," Nettie corrects. "A hot-to-trot sea dog. I have standards, you know," she says as she undoes a button on her voluminous white blouse.

"The only thing you'll be finding tonight is trouble," Bess warns. "And not the good kind."

"You mean like finding a pirate who's lost his map to buried treasure?" Nettie waggles her brows at the thought. "Because, honey, I'd be happy to help him find his way around." She undoes another button on her blouse for good measure just to be clear about the way in which she intends to lead the scallywag.

"What about you, Trixie? Ready to join the ranks of the pirate hunters?" Bess teases, turning her attention to me. "Although we all know which marauder you're looking for—the one you've already snagged."

"Speaking of marauders," Nettie says. "I say you unleash your inner wench and ravage that beast of a man. Face it, Handsome Ransom was built to be ravaged by a wench or two."

"Oh, I'm definitely up for the challenge." I wince. "But I'm not so sure if he'll be a willing participant after I fill him in on my little secret."

They both gasp at once.

"When are you going to do it?" Bess asks as the whites of her eyes catch the light and shine like lanterns.

"I told him I'd tell him tonight," I say.

Nettie shakes her head at me. "Don't worry, Trix. There are six bars in full operation right here on the promenade deck and they're all stocked to the hilt with Jolly Roger Spirits. I say get him good and drunk first—and maybe have a couple of drinks yourself, too."

Just as I'm about to refute the idea, Jolly Roger himself jumps onto a small table.

"Hear ye, hear ye, scoundrels and wenches," he calls out and the entire deck erupts with a cheer. "Danger is afoot. Something wicked is roving among us, and it's bringing certain disaster this very night."