Whew. Time for the kitchen walk-through.
“Thank you, my beautiful chickens of the sea,” I told Mack and Pearl. “I can’t wait to see what opening night brings.”
I gave them my jazziest jazz hands, a signature Addison Hayes smile, and made to leave—just as Bailey reappeared on the stage, double-fisting iced drinks, one of which was violently pink.
“Addy!” she called. “I got that hibiscus shit for you!”
Hibiscus shit! Ah, forgiveness, ah,agape.
I was about to go get it myself when Krysta said, “Stay put,” and left. Which was unnecessary, but perhaps would take less time with her long legs, and time was money, baby! I needed to get moving!
Butwow wow, also I could definitely watch Krysta walk all day. Her suit was cut so that the power in her shoulders was evident, and as she moved, I could see the muscles of her thighs press against her trousers.
“Addison,” Pearl intoned in that hazy, slightly wondrous voice, like she’d just woken up from a dream.
I grudgingly pulled my gaze away from Krysta’s thighs.
“I meant to tell you earlier,” Pearl went on. “I have something for you.”
Chapter Three
Pearl handed me a red scalloped envelope that I distinctly recognized as stationery from the Wishes by Addison Galentine’s Day stationery line. “Isn’t red such a powerful color?” she asked before floating away.
I tore open the envelope. There was no Galentine to be found. Instead, there was a piece of paper torn from the Lemon Tree notepad that I’d curated for the guest welcome basket.
11 PM. Infinity hot tub. Stern of the ship. You’ve got skin in the game.
Well, wasn’t that cryptic? I didn’t have time for cryptic. Cryptic was not on the schedule.
So I folded the note to revisit during my fifteen minutes of free time after dinner and announced to Krysta like aWest Wingcharacter, “I’m walking.”
I should tell her about the note. There were those rules about secrets and whatnot, and Bodyguard Mommy liked her rules. But as I went to open the note again, Krysta caught up to me inthree strides and handed me my iced tea with a look that rivaled revulsion. Like actual disgust.
Maybe a hibiscus drink killed her father?
And maybe now wasn’t the time for cryptic notes. Besides, Krysta would probably just do something silly like slow down my ETA and lock me in my room when this was nothing more than an overzealous fan in search of a moment of connection. Because what the fans expected from the entire Addison Hayes experience was connection. Via thoughtfully curated goods, services, shows, and parties. Every single one of my followers had the opportunity to have a little piece of me for a price... but sometimes a piece wasn’t good enough, which explained the issue of the cryptic note and why it was without a doubt harmless.
After I checked on the kitchen and the spa, and previewed the sail-away sip-and-paint party for VIPs that would be held in the margarita bar, the captain announced that it was time for muster.
Krysta, the most serious human being of all time, led the way to our muster station, where she drilled the poor cruise employee on exactly which lifeboats we would use to evacuate and how many life jackets were available and what the plan was if a lifeboat failed to properly deploy.
Halfway through the safety drill, she turned to me. “Are you even paying attention?”
I looked up from the color-coded to-do list on my phone. “If the big boat goes down, we get on the tiny boats. That’s basically the gist of it. Besides, you seem to be very good at your job, so I’m sure if things go sideways, you’ll just drag the whole ship to shore with those muscly arms of yours.”
For a millisecond, her lip twitched into something that almost resembled a smile before she looked away again and raised her hand to ask another question.
After muster, Krysta parted the sea of cruisers so I could go back to my room and change for the official send-off.
Fans waved and reached in front of me for selfies and autographs, which was actually really overwhelming considering the narrow hallways. Krysta stepped in front of me, shielding me from the eager guests before herding me into a crew-member-only corridor.
“Doing okay, Ms. Hayes?” she asked as the door shut behind us, searching my expression for any sign that I wasn’t all right.
I nodded, enjoying her concern for me a little too much.
But then her shoulders straightened and she was all brusque and businesslike again.
“And I hope you’ll all raise a glass with me and toast the first-ever Lemon Tree voyage!”
