I elbow the wall more vehemently. “I’m calling security on you guys. It’s frickin’ two in the morning.”
“Come on over,” a chorus of voices say.
“No!” I scream.
Since sleep is impossible, I pull on a sundress and shawl and decide to go out on a midnight stroll. Or maybe I can snoop in Jordan’s things.
Nah. That wouldn’t be nice.
I stumble to the head to use it one last time before going up to the top deck.
“Ahhh!” I jump up from the toilet and hit my head on the cabinet above it.
There’s a spider on the toilet paper, and it’s big and black. I drop it on the ground and stare at it bug-eyed, but it doesn’t crawl away.
I blink, then blink some more at the huge, black spider on the white square of paper.
And then it hits me.
Someone drew the spider with a Sharpie marker.
I unroll some more paper and find the spidery imprints from the marker.
That Jordan!
I throw the spider paper into the toilet and flush it. This calls for revenge.
Grabbing my purse, I slip into a pair of sandals. I barge out of my cabin and run into a man coming out of the room next door.
He’s hard and hot, of course, and in the dim light, I can smell cheese puffs and peanuts—the favorite food of rutting elephants.
I prop my hand on the man’s chest and push off of him, then lift my face.
Jordan has his tie loosened and sprinkles of cheese puffs on his lapel. Behind him are Alice and Sylvester and a big, blond, Nordic Viking guy who looks suspiciously like Sven.
“Going somewhere?” Jordan asks. “I told you to come over.”
“What the hell are you all doing making so much noise?” I gape at the foursome, two old and two young.
“You should have come over,” Sven says. “I’m exhausted. These guys tired me out and you could have taken my place.”
“Taken your place?” I squeak through my extremely constricted vocal cords, wondering how they got him to stop bragging. “No, thank you.”
A loud snicker explodes from Alice Lin with the percussive effects of a popping fart.
“What exactly were all of you doing?” I glare at the bespectacled octogenarian. “With her?”
And her brother in the midst? Too kinky even for my most out-there romance author client.
Loud laughter echoes through the corridor and several doors open. Annoyed faces stick out like prairie dogs, staring at me as if I were the cause of the incestuous commotion.
Whirling around, I stomp back into my cabin and slam the door, vibrating the thin walls, as an instrumental rendition of “Silent Night” pipes through the intercom.
The strange click-clacking sound returns next door, along with the thumps and exclamations. “Whoo! Whoo!”
* * *
I’m in no mood for Jordan’s whistling over his electric razor the next morning. It’s entirely too self-satisfied and mocking.
