I jump to the side of the bed behind a wardrobe and point my vibrator gun.
The door opens and someone shouts, “Dani! Open your legs for me, you hot, slutty thing.”
Flash! Pow. Pouf.
My trap springs, spraying the intruder with glue diluted with apple juice, followed by bright-green fluorescent staining powder, the kind used to catch thieves, and an explosion of glitter bombs: silver, gold, and multi-colored. Rolls of toilet paper fall over my victim, along with a cascade of ping-pong balls lubed with olive oil. He screams like a baby and whirls around, trying to run. But the toilet paper twirls around him, and he slips over the oily ping-pong balls and falls flat on his back.
“Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!” he screams, as I pop a balloon filled with ants over his head.
The cameras and video cameras snap and whizz, and a loud “quacking” sound effect heralds the downfall of the creature who will be forever immortalized on the internet as the victim to the mother of all pranks.
I high-five myself and hit the “post” button, but my stomach is sick. Even though I got my revenge, I can’t help feeling like I, too, am tainted by association.
* * *
Sure enough, all my videos and photos went superviral, and the next day, New Year’s Eve, I’m the most popular person on board the S.S. Bird of Paradise.
“You got him good,” Sheri says, slapping me on the back over breakfast. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t hook up with him?”
“Lucky you aren’t married to him,” Joy says. “I heard he’s in hiding.”
“He can’t get that stain off his skin,” Sylvester says. “I almost feel sorry for him. Those ant bites must itch.”
“Thanks to you,” I chortle. That last pièce de résistance was a gift from Sylvester who got it at an ant farm store.
“He deserved the humiliation,” Alice says, snickering and giggling up a storm. “It’s karma.”
“This calls for a celebration.” Sheri pulls out a bottle of champagne and points it at me. “Now that the creep is unmasked, who are you going with to the New Year’s Eve Party?”
“My good friends, Alice and Sylvester.” I link arms with my shuffleboard partners. “We’re going to ring in the new year with a new game.”
“New game? You mean shuffleboard?”
“Air hockey.” I crack my knuckles. “I was a champ in junior high school. Quick reflexes.”
“There’s a lot of physics involved with air hockey,” Alice says. “Sylvester and I are up for the challenge.”
“It’s going to be a grand night,” Joy concurs. “Dancing under the moonlight, fireworks, and a countdown clock.”
“Kissing at midnight. Romance, a new beginning.” Sheri pops the cork from the champagne bottle. “Let’s all drink to new love.”
We fill our flutes.
“To love!”
I clink glasses and toast my tablemates, but inside, my heart shrivels. Self-love is about all I’m going to get tonight.
My trust level is too low to foolishly put my heart out there. Tomorrow is a new year, and tomorrow, I will be a different Dani Davison.
I drink up and paste a smile on my face. I can do today, a minute at a time, and I can walk away, one step at a time.
Once the ship docks in Los Angeles Harbor, I’ll disembark and live the life I want to live—not the one my parents trained me for, and definitely not the phony, stilted, predictable, and orderly life I sold myself short for.
