CHAPTER THREE

  I wake up sweating. Alcohol always makes me run hot. I kick the loose blanket off my legs, trying to remember how I wound up in bed. Naked.

  I scramble through my small cabin, getting cleaned up and dressed while trying to remember. My stomach is calm today, not sick at all and it dawns on me we’re not swaying. We must be past the storm. The only thing wrong now is my head pounding.

  There are gaps, but I remember drinking with Wade. I remember the kiss. And Marcella—the cold look in her eyes.

  My head thrums with pain from too much alcohol. I glance at my laptop, now sitting on top of my suitcase. I should write today. I steel myself with determination. I’m going to write today. After I check in with the others.

  A daily program slipped under the door tells me that today is a port day. I can’t help but smile, both relieved and excited to be off the wild ocean and on the warm, still, sandy beach. Paradise. I’ll be able to write for hours and hours.

  I find the others by the buffet, already eating breakfast and sipping coffee. “Good morning,” I say, pulling up a chair to their already filled table.

  They all look so grim. Wade is the only one to respond. “Morning.”

  “What’s wrong with everyone?” I ask. It’s obvious there’s something they know that I don’t. I peer at Marcella, my face heating. Oh, god, is this something to do with last night?

  “We veered off course,” Graham says. “No disembarking today.”

  “How is veering off course even possible on a cruise?”

  He scowls. “When the captain decided to take us around the storm—we overshot the mark.”

  Overshot—the—mark. “Okay… so what now? It’s fine, right? The water is calm. We can all still sit outside and write. No big deal?” I look around at their faces, all frowning. This is a letdown—a big one. But there are more days on our trip, more ports to visit and more time to get done what we came here to do—to write.

  “The whole point of this was to experience the island life—the culture—everything that goes with it,” Graham says.

  “I thought you were writing a horror novel about an evil cat,” Tom interrupts.

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “There is still an island,” Lauren says, pointing out the window. “We just can’t go on it.”

  I turn to see the most gorgeous island outside, covered in a lush forest, filled with palm trees. White sandy beaches wrap around to the far side, where cliff sides jut out. It looks completely vacant—void of all human life. “Where are we?” I whisper, in awe of the island’s beauty.

  “Like I said—we veered off course,” Graham says dryly.

  “So… we’re not disembarking—why does it seem like we’re sitting still? Shouldn’t we be moving on to correct our course?”

  “According to Lauren’s—friend,” Caleb interjects, giving her a look. “We’re going to be parked here all day. The captain is giving everyone’s stomachs some time to settle before we’re back at it again. The storm is still brewing where we’re supposed to be, so this will give it some time to pass too.”

  “How considerate of him,” Graham says, his words laced with sarcasm.

  I look back at Marcella, who still hasn’t said a word. She can’t really be that angry, can she? I sigh. It’s always been this way with her. If a man she’s interested in isn’t interested in her—it’s because of me. It doesn’t matter if it’s actually because of me, or not.

  “Right. Well, during this interlude, while I’m not throwing up all over myself—”

  “Or getting drunk,” Marcella says.

  I ignore her. “I’m going to make the most of it. I’ll be on Deck D writing my ass off. Unless there are people there—then you can find me on another deck.” I stand, all appetite gone.

  “Wait,” Caleb says.

  I stop and turn toward him.

  “That’s not all Lauren’s friend had to say.” He nods toward my seat, inviting me to stay and hear him out. I indulge him.

  “Andrew says—” Lauren starts, lowering her voice and looking at each of us. “That even though we’re not supposed to disembark, he can get us on a tender.” She waits expectantly for one of us to speak.

  “And what is that—exactly?” I ask, new to all the cruise ship terminology.

  “A lifeboat,” Wade says.

  “A—”

  We all look at each other. They want to sneak off the ship. I can’t tell if the others think it’s a crazy idea or brilliant. I don’t even know what I think about it. My heart races. It could be dangerous—the island looks uninhabited. It could also be the most peaceful place I’ll ever visit on this planet. I could write a book about this experience alone, probably. I can almost see the idea in the others’ eyes.

  “Are you sure the ship is going to stay all day?” I ask Lauren.

  She nods.

  “You can’t be seriously considering this,” Graham says. “The captain will know. We’ll be caught.”

  “Andrew says he has a few others willing to help. They’ll distract the captain, make sure no one else knows about it—if—we can pay.” Her cheeks redden at the admission, realizing how it sounds.

  Graham throws his arms up and scoffs.

  “We can pay them half up front and half when we’re safely back,” Caleb says.

  “How much do they want?” I ask, thinking about the divorce that cost me everything, about the airplane ticket and stateroom that I couldn’t afford because my ex-husband had a better attorney.

  “Forget the money for a second. Think about the safety. What if something happens? We’re writers. None of us knows anything about survival—” Graham starts, but Marcella cuts him off.

  “Survival?” she barks. “What’s there to survive, Graham? It’s a beach!” She looks at each of us. “I’m in. I don’t care about the added cost. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m in. We’ll leave and be back before bedtime.”

  “What about the other ports? We still have plenty of opportunities to disembark,” I say.

  “Not like this, and you know it.”

  I look at Wade, deciding I’ll go whichever way he leans. If he thinks it’s a stupid idea, then I’ll stay. If he wants to go, then I will too. I’m not sure why, but he seems to be one of the most level-headed here. There’s something about him that I trust. It’s not because of last night—it’s more like last night might’ve happened because of it.

  He seems to be trying to read me, just like I am him. After a minute, he says, “If we’re really going to do this, we better get going.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The plan is hatched so quickly, so thoroughly, that I wonder how many times this friend of Lauren’s has snuck passengers off the ship. He and the others helping have to be making a small fortune off passengers willing to disembark on their own—like us.

  There’s not much in way of preparation—nothing for us to pack other than our computers and sunblock. Lauren and Marcella each have clear, waterproof backpacks they thought to bring. I make a stop by the buffet with my canvas bag to stock up on water bottles. The humidity has me drinking water like a fish, and I don’t want a little thirst to get in the way of a full day’s writing.

  Everything comes together within an hour, and now I hang on for dear life as the lifeboat jumps wave after wave in the angry water. There’s no storm, but it doesn’t matter. The size of the small boat is so different from the colossal cruise ship, we can’t help but feel every bounce and jolt that comes our way. Water that seemed calm and still moments ago, is now giving us a different story.

  “Few more minutes,” Lauren’s friend calls to us, noting how we all look a little queasy from the jostling.

  If I speak, I know I’ll lose the little control of my stomach that I have left, so I stay silent. We all do for a while. Wind whips past us, and slowly, the beautiful island grows larger as our ship shrinks in the distance. My heart hammers faster the longer we’re gone. We’re actually doing this!

  Despite how my stomach feels, I grin. I can’t help it. I feel freer than I ever have in my entire existence. This is exactly the kind of thing I would’ve never been able to do with Matt. If I had even suggested it, even looked like I wanted to go along with the plan—he would’ve shot me down in an instant.

  “You look happy,” Wade calls from where he’s seated across from me.

  “I am.”

  “You’re not the only one!” Caleb screams with a hoot and howl. We all laugh at his excitement.

  “How are we supposed to get on land?” Graham calls to Andrew.

  “There’s a small dock around the side of the island.”

  The others and I all look at each other in confusion.

  Andrew says, “This island was abandoned by the cruise line years ago. You might see some tiki umbrellas and beach chairs. There’s even a bathroom somewhere, but I’m not sure what state it’s in, so you might want to avoid it.”

  “Is there a bar?” Caleb grins.

  Andrew laughs. “No bar, unfortunately. No food either, so I hope you all brought snacks.”

  “What kind of cruise-line-owned island doesn’t have a bar?” Tom says.

  “The kind that’s too small, too hard to get to, too unprofitable to maintain,” Andrew says. “I don’t know all the details, sorry, man. All I know is this place used to be one of the stops during peak season, years and years ago—an exclusive VIP thing for rich guys. That’s how I know about the dock. It closed down for storm season, and eventually, they just washed their hands of it.” He makes a hand-washing gesture to emphasize his point.

  We accept Andrew’s words at face value even though none of us have ever heard of something like that. He’s the employee, he’d know more about it than us, although the writer in me insists I should look more into it when I get back to the ship and get some internet.

  When we’re almost to the dock, Andrew says, “Remember, we won’t be back to get you until nightfall. Stay out of view of the ship, so no one sees you—unless you want your little excursion cut short.”

  “And if we have a problem?” Graham asks.

  “I’ll leave you with a flare gun and a pack of flares, but please—do not use the damn thing unless someone is dying. All our jobs are on the line here, not to mention I’m not sure what kind of charges you all will face.” He gives us all a pointed look.

  “Yeah, we get it,” Graham says.

  We pull up to the dock.

  “Let’s get to it then, shall we?” Tom says, the first to leave.

  We pile out after him, computers and bags in hand.

  “Lauren’s friend said we should stay out of sight of the ship,” Marcella says once we’re all off the dock.

  Graham stops. He looks across the sea to our ship. Only the back is visible from where we are. “Do you think anyone will even be able to see us if they looked?”

  “Is it worth the risk?” She glares at him.

  We make our way across the beach, to where the island starts to curve around at a sharper angle. The ship isn’t completely out of view, but far enough now to where we know we won’t be seen unless someone is specifically looking for us.

  I gasp when I see the tiki umbrellas lined up on the sand. “Andrew was right.”

  “Of course he was. Did you think he was lying?” Lauren says.

  “No, I just—”

  “You think these chairs will hold us up?” Caleb says. He puts his weight on one of the beach chairs, gradually pushing down until it's fully supporting him. He gives a little bounce and laughs. “I’ll be damned.”

  We all settle ourselves into our ideal spots. Caleb, Lauren, and Marcella stay in the open, as close to the water as they can get without the tide getting them. Lauren grins at me as she puts tanning oil on, and I can’t help but grin back.

  Graham and Tom somehow look the most comfortable of all of us. They’ve pulled beach chairs back a ways, just at the outskirts of the forest. On a small hill, they’re overlooking the rest of us like kings.

  Wade hesitates. “Do you—want to sit together?”

  I smile at his shyness. “Yes. How about over there?” I lead him to a spot near a single palm tree that’s reaching sideways into the sky. We’re still within sight of the others but far enough away that we don’t have to hear them.

  “This is perfect,” he says, making himself comfortable. I do the same, sitting across from him so that our bare toes could touch if one of us reached. I finally open my laptop and start to write.

  We spend the rest of the day working. A few hours pass before we start to toss ideas back and forth with each other and the others in the group. We’re all writing different genres, but it doesn’t matter—the input from other writers is invaluable. I’ve been looking for this comradery since I can remember. I feel complete, like everything that brought me to this point has been worth it.

  None of us has a signal to get internet, so if there’s something we need to research, we ask, and if no one knows, we make a note to look it up later. Hours fly by us in a blur. It amazes me how productive we can be when the only sounds around us are the birds and the waves.

  “My battery is getting low,” Wade says later. The sun is setting, almost down completely.

  “Mine is too.” The built-in batteries, along with the portable chargers we brought, are all drained.

  “Ready to stop for the day?”

  I finish the paragraph that I’m working on, then save my work and close my computer. We each pack up and get ready to move toward the others, but Wade stops me. He beams. “It was great working with you.”

  I smile back. “It was perfect.” I start to turn, but he grabs my arm.

  “About last night—”

  By now, I remember everything, and it’s hard to look him in the eyes when he mentions it. Wade brought me back to my room after the kiss, I tried to seduce him, and he politely declined. He made sure I was safe and left. That was that. I blacked out after flopping onto the bed, disappointed and too drunk to be embarrassed.

  Now that I’ve had a chance to sober up and the memory had a chance to surface, I’m mortified. I can’t stand the way I treated a complete stranger who’s supposed to be a colleague—who I’m now supposed to spend a week with. He came onto me with the kiss, but I should’ve stopped it at that instead of wanting to jump into bed.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” I say, turning scarlet. “I’m sorry. I drank too much—I should’ve been more responsible. I apologize.”

  He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “No. You don’t—”

  A scream fills the air. Our heads whip toward the others.

  “What the hell! What the hell!” Marcella is wailing in the water up to her thighs, staring out at the ocean.

  We drop everything and run for her.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom asks, getting to her first.

  She turns back, wide eyed and crying, looking like a frightened wild animal. “The ship—it’s gone!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We all stare out at the spot our cruise ship should be. The spot it was just a few hours earlier. How could we not have noticed it leaving?

  “Let’s not panic,” Tom says. “We need to walk back down the beach first.” He turns to Graham. “Do you still have the flare gun?”

  “Maybe this is part of the plan?” Lauren says before Graham can answer, starting to look just as panicked as Marcella. “Andrew said he’d come back at night—maybe he will still.”

  I choke on her words. Maybe. Maybe he’ll come back for us. My world is starting to spin. I blink, trying to clear the dizzy haze from my eyes. Black spots are at the corners of my vision, creeping in faster and faster until I find myself falling to the sand.

  “Shit,” Graham growls. He’s the closest to me and reaches out to catch me before I hit my head. He holds me for a moment, steadying me, making sure I’m not going to fall again. It’s the worry I see on his face that’s more frightening than anything else. If he’s worried—we all should be.

  Together, we trek back down the beach to the spot we arrived. When we still don’t see the ship, I break out in a cold sweat. We keep going, hoping that maybe the ship isn’t gone completely—it could’ve just moved, floated away maybe. Anything but this.

  We walk until the sun is completely down, the only light the looming rays on the water. “It’s gone,” Marcella says, dropping to her knees. “We’re—stranded.”

  “Don’t say that,” Caleb barks at her. “Andrew will come through. We just have to stay calm.”

  I look at Lauren, who’s biting her lip. “How—” I don’t want to call her out. I know this isn’t her fault. But I can’t help but ask. “How do you know Andrew?”

  All eyes turn to her. We wait on pins and needles for her to say something—anything to reassure us that we didn’t just put our lives in the hands of a con man. “It’s not what you think,” she says. “I met him at a party—we hooked up.” Her eyes flash to Caleb before continuing. “That was months ago, way before Caleb. And we’ve just been friends since.”

  We let out a collective sigh of relief. She didn’t just meet him. She knows him. Most importantly, we can probably trust him. Then what’s with the look on her face saying she’s not so sure?

  “There’s something you’re not telling us,” Tom says, seeing the look too.

  Lauren shakes her head. “No. I swear that’s it.”

  “Then why do you still look so worried?” Graham asks.

  “It’s just—the ship wasn’t supposed to move.” Tears fall from her eyes now as she stares at us. “It wasn’t supposed to leave.”

  The words hit us like a blow to the gut, knocking the air from each of our lungs. We really are stranded. I look at Wade, who’s looking out to sea. Marcella starts yelling at Lauren and lunges for her hair while the others hold her back. It’s not her or Caleb’s fault, but how can we not blame them a little?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18