32
Saturday, 10:37 p.m.
Deck 10
It quickly became clear that the people who had not already put on their pajamas for Corey’s solo show had held off on doing so because their pajamas were actually lingerie. Annie kept holding her hand up to her eyes, as if it would stop the onslaught of barely covered breasts. There were teddies, there were silk bra-and-pantie sets, there were see-through robes with marabou feathers at the hem. DJ Pancake was playing an R & B set, which made everything worse. All the songs were about bumping and grinding, and so that’s what all the bodies were doing, slowly gyrating to the beat. On the one hand, Annie thought,Well, good for them!On the other hand, she thought,I don’t need to see all that.It was the windiest night yet, and so in addition to people’s hair flying behind them and flapping in each other’s faces, marabou feathers and silk were too, further exposing tummies and butt cheeks of all shades and sizes. It felt like a corner of the internet that Annie had never visited before, but she was sure existed. If the nights previous to this one had been Moms Gone Wild, things had now progressed a few steps toward Moms Gone Pornographic.
Annie was wearing what she actually slept in, which was a short-sleeved white cotton nightgown that went to her midcalves. She’d worried that it might be too much—white showed everything—but in comparison to a lot of the Talkers, she looked and felt like a nun. After Corey’s show, Maira had said that she had a headache and wanted to rest awhile before coming upstairs, so Annie was on her own. A nun alone in a sea of nearly naked breasts. Everyone had their phones out as usual, recording everything, and it seemed like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Privacy, maybe? Annie didn’t know what the laws were, but she knew that if she were Shawn Fiore, she would be careful who she took selfies with tonight.
It was already packed to the gills by the stage, and so Annie did a few laps before the guys came out to find a good spot. She’d only had two Sexy Sunrises all day, which in her normal life would have been her absolute limit but on the cruise seemed like only ordering an appetizer and no dinner. Practically ascetic. Annie made her way to the bar for one more. If she didn’t last as long tonight, that was okay. Maira had been telling her for days that Prom was the big one. That was always the final theme of the cruise and where people really went all out and stayed up all night—the guys, the Talkers, everyone—awake and dancing on the lido deck until theAmerican Fantasypulled back into port.
A woman in front of her was dancing in pajamas printed with little cutouts of Keith’s face. It was his current face, his real face, which seemed more flattering than someone wearing his teenage face. Annie felt a tiny flutter in her stomach knowing that he was going to appear soon, even if he was going to appear in front of thousands of people. That was how they all felt, probably, but it was new to her. Shawn and Scotty looked phony—Corey too, in his own handsome way—like photocopies of real men. Keith was different. Not just because he’d lither cigarette. She’d just been standing there. Still, Annie thought to herself, there were worse things in the world than a new crush. She had a crush! How would she tell Katherine? It would be like telling her sister that she wanted to sleep with her husband.
It wasn’t the same as the way she’d loved Boy Talk as a teenager, Annie was pretty sure. That was hormones and hope and fantasy. She’d had no idea what love was. It certainly wasn’t whatever she was dealing with at school, sweaty palms and bad kisses. Boy Talk had seemed like experts even though they hadn’t written the songs, and most of them probably didn’t have any more real-life experience than she did. Annie understood it all more now—desire, disappointment, time. Everything was ruled by hormones now too, of course, but they—the women, the Talkers—were all in on the joke. They were all setting who they’d been on fire and rising from the ashes. Annie thought about Geoff and Kayla, neither of whom understood, and to her own surprise, she actually felt a little bit sorry for them.
She put her elbows on the sticky bar. “One Sexy Sunrise, please!” The bartender swiped her card and handed it back. There were several pairs of breasts resting directly on the bar beside her, the silky nighties clearly not up to the challenge of containing anything. Annie stared straight ahead and saw Mr. Beer Pong looking back at her. Greg, she reminded herself. He had a name. There were enough men on this ship being objectified; she didn’t need to add another. Annie smiled as he slowly made his way around the bar to her. Greg was holding a bucket of beers and offered her one.
“No, thank you,” Annie said. Her drink appeared on the bar behind her. It looked the same as it always did, pink and orange and delicious. She was going to miss the Sexy Sunrises. Even if she had understood what all the ingredients were, it didn’t seem like something she could re-create on land. That was true of everything, really. It could never happen anywhere else. “I’m all set.”
Greg was wearing a nightshirt and a long pointed cap, like the bear on the Sleepytime Tea box. He looked as wholesome as she did.
“I think you and I may have missed the memo,” Annie said. A woman squeezed in between them wearing hot pants with ruffles that covered her bottom, thoughcoveredwas perhaps too strong a word. Greg laughed.
“I think so.” He took a sip of beer. The lights flashed, and DJ Pancake cut the music. Everyone screamed, and Annie watched as the Talkers jumped up and down, their bodies bouncier than usual. The wind made everyone look like the kind of music-video girls who would dance on the hood of someone’s Camaro. The guys appeared underneath the screen. They were all dressed like Tom Cruise inRisky Business—tighty-whities, button-down shirts, sunglasses, socks. Bob Seger started to play.
“Oh no,” Annie said. She covered her eyes.
“I think he wore sunglasses later in the movie,” Greg said. “This is apocryphal.”
Annie smiled into her drink and then looked over at Greg. The guys were still standing up under the screen. Maybe the band was nervous about getting too close to the Talkers when they were wearing so little clothing too.
“Want to go up there?” Greg said. He pointed to the back of the crowd, where there were only a handful of people watching from an upper deck on the far end of the ship from the VIP zone and the stage.
“Sure,” Annie said. The crowd was pushing forward toward the boys. It was hard to make it through. Two women wearing matching full-length flannel pajamas stepped back to let them by. Greg stuck his free hand behind him, and Annie took it. He wasn’t sandy anymore. Greg’s skin felt cool from the beer bottle, and Annie watched the muscles in his neck flex as he turned to look at her. The guys had made it to the stage—Annie could tell from how much people werecraning their necks around her as she passed them, but she didn’t turn around.
The steps to the first balcony were full of people, but the steps to the second balcony were clear, and Annie dropped Greg’s hand. They were farther away from the stage than she’d been the whole cruise. There was a small pool and a blocked-off waterslide, and Greg kept walking until he was behind the pool. He set down his bucket of beers and dusted off his hands. Annie took a sip of her drink and then put it down next to his. DJ Pancake was playing Jodeci, and Annie turned to look toward the stage. Shawn and Terrence were both slow-dancing with Talkers wearing sensible short sets like Maira’s. Smart boys.
“Want to dance?” Greg asked. She turned around, and he was standing there, holding his hands out. His hat was ridiculous and cute. She didn’t know many men who liked costumes. It was funny, the list of things Annie found appealing at fifty that she would never have thought about at twenty-five. Good with kids, bends down to talk to puppies on the street, a polite driver, enjoys puzzles. A green thumb. Didn’t belittle her interests. Maybe even shared them. She stepped into Greg’s hands, and he placed his left hand on her hip.
“Hmm,” Annie said.
“Hmm?” Greg said. He took a step closer. They were only a few inches away from the staircase wall, and she drew them both back farther, tucking them even more out of view. His face was so close now, and Annie could see his eyelashes, his crow’s-feet, the stubble starting to appear on his cheeks. He was definitely younger than she was. She’d never done that before, been with someone younger. It wasn’t on her list—Annie didn’t have a list. Lists were for people who expected to be able to cross things off. All Annie had was the desire to be kissed in public by this stranger. They were both already wearing their nightclothes. It wasn’t hard to picture. She turned her face up just a tiny bit and felt her lips part. An invitation. Greg leaned in and kissed her.
It had been such a long time—Annie didn’t want to do the math—that at first, Annie’s body felt like it was sounding an alarm, like one of those scenes in a movie where someone was stealing something from the Louvre and every red line of light was another trip wire. Her whole body was tripping wires left and right. His chin was sharp, and she could feel each hair pressing into her skin. An involuntary moan escaped her mouth midkiss. She had forgotten so much about kissing. Why would anyone have sex with a dragon when another human being was a possibility? Annie drew Greg closer so that they were pressed up against each other, their faces smashing together hard. His tongue was in her mouth, and hers was in his. Their teeth clattered together. Annie felt like she was fourteen years old, kissing badly because she didn’t know how. She could feel Greg’s erection through their nightgowns, and he pressed it against her, groaning. The cruelest part of Annie’s brain told her that it was so dumb how much she was enjoying this, and the larger, better part said,You’re not dead yet, baby, and danced a jig.
“Okay,” Annie said. She pushed him gently off her. Greg took a step back and pulled off his hat. There was sweat in his hairline, and his cheeks were red. “Just hang on.”
“Hanging,” he said. He was out of breath and put his hands on his hips. “Though I would like to continue doing that.”
“Who are you?” Annie asked. “I mean, who are you when you’re not here?”
“But I am here,” Greg said.
“I know what you mean,” Annie said. She straightened out her nightgown. There were some stains on it now, pink drops from her drink, or someone else’s. “I can’t do this here. I’m an adult.”
Greg picked up his bucket of beer. “Your place or mine?”
The breeze felt cold on Annie’s skin. She stepped out on the balcony and saw Maira by the tiki bar—Annie waved, but Maira didn’t seemto notice. The guys had welcomed half a dozen people onto the small stage with them and were clapping their hands in unison over their heads. Keith was standing toward the back of the stage, and Annie watched him tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it down. His legs were long and pale with dark hair. They all looked like they’d been interrupted while getting dressed. Annie didn’t want Keith to see her doing whatever this was. He couldn’t see her, of course, and even if he could, she was a stranger to him, one drop of water in the ocean lapping at his feet. Corey was leaning over the railing, signing autographs on things that people handed to him. Scotty was wearing bright yellow sandals and doing the Macarena with a woman dressed like a sheep. Annie looked down and saw the rest of the woman’s flock, all screaming their heads off.
