Ooh, that is not going to come out.
Through it all, I manage to protect my chocolate lava cake, hunching over it like a mother bear defending her cub. We all have our hills that we would die on, and this is most definitely mine.
“This is better than any scene I ever filmed!” Marlie crows, floating above the melee with the delight of a ghost who can’t be hit by flying food. “Season twenty-three’s wedding massacre doesn’t hold a candle to this!”
I’ll say.
After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, the ammunition runs out, and an uneasy cease-fire descends. The dining room looks like a crime scene where the victim was a buffet. Trophy wives stand panting, their designer gowns ruined, hair plastered to their heads with various sauces. The soap husbands emerge from under the table, checking their hair with nervous patting motions.
“That,” Boomer declares with tears of joy in his eyes, “was the best footage of the season. Possibly of my entire career.”
Wes surveys the destruction with the thousand-yard stare of a man who’s just watched his ship’s formal dining room transform into a food fight arena on international television.
“All right,” he says with admirable composure for someone with hollandaise sauce dripping from his shirt. “I trust that everyone has expressed their feelings adequately for one evening?”
Ransom helps me to my feet, checking me for injuries with such thoroughness you’d think he was expecting to find shrapnel wounds rather than gravy stains.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, still clutching my miraculously intact dessert. “But I think formal night has been formally cancelled.”
His cheek flinches just shy of a smile. “I think we can find something better to do, starting with a shower.”
“I am most definitely in.”
Three different trophy wives give me the stink eye, and I shrug their way. It’s not my fault I’m the lucky one here.
As we pull away from the wreckage, I’m reminded just how delicate civilization really is. One dead body and the whole glittering illusion collapsed faster than a bad spray tan in a hot tub. Beneath the sequins and cufflinks, there’s not much more than panic, paranoia, and an impressive lack of table manners.
OnThe Young and the Breathless, chaos is carefully scripted, and everyone knows where the cameras are. OnThe Bold and the Bombastic, the gloves come off, the lobster claws come out, and if you’re not careful, you might end up as the evening’s entertainment.
CHAPTER 14
Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!
Dear Trixie,
I’m packing for my Norwegian fjords cruise and panicking about what to bring! Everyone says the weather changes hourly, and I’m torn between bringing enough layers to survive Arctic conditions and leaving room for souvenirs. The cruise line’s suggested packing list mentions everything from formal wear to hiking boots. I’m particularly worried about the formal nights—I heard the soap opera stars always dress to kill, and I don’t want to look like an extra next to those trophy wives (in case they decided to stay on and film another show)! Should I pack another suitcase? And what Norwegian souvenirs are actually worth the suitcase space?
Overpacked in Ohio
Dear Overpacked,
The eternal cruise dilemma—pack for every possible scenarioor leave room for shopping? It’s like choosing between desserts at the midnight buffet—impossible and unnecessary when you can have both!
Here’s my soap opera-worthy packing solution: pack ONE elegant, versatile formal outfit that can be transformed with different accessories. Trust me, even the trophy wives repeat their designer pieces. They just change their jewelry enough to fool the cameras. One good black dress or suit can work for multiple formal nights with the right scarf, necklace, or tie.
For Norwegian fjord weather, think layers, not volume. One good waterproof jacket, lightweight sweaters, and a warm scarf will see you through most situations. Remember, if you’re truly desperate, the ship’s gift shop sells overpriced emergency sweaters withI heart FJORDSemblazoned across them (Nettie owns three, in different colors).
As for souvenirs worth the suitcase space, Norwegian wool products are magnificent and compress well. Aquavit is the ultimate liquid souvenir, and makes for fascinating dinner conversation back home. Troll dolls are adorably silly but take up precious real estate.
My secret strategy? Ship the bulky souvenirs home from port and pack an expandable duffel in your suitcase for overflow. That way, you’ll never have to choose between that hand-knit Norwegian sweater and your dignity at the formal dinner.
XOXO Trixie
P.S. Should you encounter Victor Darkmore entering a room, he will pause dramatically in the doorway for exactly three seconds. This is not a medical condition—it’s thirty-eight years of soap opera training.
Day 5: Flam / Sognefjord, Norway (deepest fjord, Flam Railway, tiny village)
TheEmerald Queenslides into Flam Harbor with all the subtlety of a stretch limo pulling into a one-pump gas station. Our massive cruise ship dwarfs the tiny Norwegian village like a Great Dane trying to make friends with a Chihuahua.
