Chapter 36
Helen
Thad is going to be furious with me.
In my defense, I’m not really good at thinking under pressure. I’m the reason we had to discontinue competing in our ex-nun group at trivia night—well, really,Matildais the reason we discontinued because she shouted at me for so long about forgetting the name of the Winnie the Pooh author that we got kicked out of the pub. For the sake of our friendship, we decided not to do anything competitive together, ever again, largely in part to my inability to make quick decisions.
So, yes, I allowed the group of sorority girls to lead me out of the hotel after I promised I would stay in the room all night. And yes, I let them dress me up and do my makeup and hair, and I took Caitlyn’s ticket to board the very boat where Dean will likely be apprehended and taken back into police custody tonight. (For the record, I checked on Caitlyn and she is okay—conscious, and binge-watching some reality TV show on her phone.)
But me being aboard the floating casino is not actually the biggest problem right now. The biggest problem is what I’mwearingaboard the floating casino.
Or, to be more accurate, what I’mnotwearing aboard the floating casino.
Let me just say, to anyone who ever finds themselves in this predicament, if a group of sorority girls offers to dress you up and tells you to trust them, do not trust them. If they say they have extra clothing that will totally fit you, it will totally not fit your thirtysomething body in the way that it fits their early-twentysomething bodies. If you worry that the outfit they’ve chosen might be a little too flashy and they tell you that this is the kind of thing people wear to boat parties, bypeoplethey are referring to other young twentysomethings, not women in their thirties who are neither Beyoncé nor a Kardashian.
I know this, because literally no other woman on the Carolina Belle is dressed how I’m dressed. We were some of the last people to board before the boat launched on its leisurely three-hour round trip up and down the Mississippi, and I stopped short as soon as I stepped onto the deck. The other women my age and older are in cute, bright dresses and rompers, ranging from whites to pastels to bold floral prints. Some are revealing a tasteful amount of skin, like a high slit showing off a thigh, or a low-cut V-neck, or a dress with cutouts at the shoulders and back.
And I? I am wearing a black fishnet dress with a black bikini underneath. When the girls showed me the picture of the model wearing the outfit online, it seemed a little daring but tasteful—but of course, I didn’t take into account the difference in body types. On a size 0 model, the fishnet reveals a little skin underneath, but all the important bits are pretty well covered, and the overall effect is sexy but stylish.
On this non-size-0 body, with my “larger than average breasts” (according to Matilda) and generously sized backside (according to the imprint I leave on my couch), there is a lot more on display than a little skin. Even though the bikini thankfully isn’t just a piece of dental floss, it’s still too small to fully cover everything I would want to have covered. June is bustin’ out all over, if by “June” you mean my boobs, and the fact that it’s only a few little strings holding the entire suit together makes me worried that it’s only a matter of time before there’s a Janet Jackson–level catastrophe.
At least my hair is a little more subdued, slicked back into a sleek ponytail. But the bright, fire-engine red lipstick and matching nails the girls gave me seem designed to draw even more attention. As I feel eyes watching my path across the deck, I fight back the urge to cover myself up and explain to the strangers around me that this isn’t really me. I’m just a librarian who loves old musicals. Not a?—
Well, a femme fatale. Honestly, I think I make Ava Gardner look pretty tame by comparison when I’m in this outfit.
The girls invite me to come with them in search of the pool on the top deck, but I decide that since I’m here, I might as well look for Dean. That was the whole point of coming to New Orleans, after all, and maybe Thad will be less irritated with me breaking my promise if I manage to find Dean first.
That’s assuming, of course, that Thad hasn’t already found him, arrested him, and taken him into custody. I really wish I’d thought of that possibilitybeforethe boat took off, since this is going to be a very long three-hour round trip otherwise.
“Helen?”
I turn in surprise at the familiar voice, my eyes widening. “Shane?”
Goofy-library-patron Shane, who I have to remind myself is actually undercover-private-detective Shane, approaches me, his jaw literally hanging open as he looks me over. His eyes linger on my breasts, none-too-subtly staring, before he manages to wrench his gaze up to mine. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t have to ask him the same question, knowing now what his real interest in me has always been. I raise an eyebrow at him. “The same thing you’re doing here, I imagine. How’d you know about the boat?”
“I have my ways.” Shane gives me a half-cocky, half-goofy grin, before his eyes snag down on my breasts again. “You look…very different from the library.”
Resisting the urge to cover myself, I clear my throat, trying to subtly call Shane out about his obvious staring. He meets my gaze, giving me another goofy, self-conscious grin and shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry—you just. Wow. Seriously. Wow. I knew you were beautiful, Helen, but this is something else.”
Look, I may have been a sister, but I’m no saint, and I like a compliment as much as the next person. Fighting a blush, I reluctantly smile back. “Thank you, Shane.” Despite enjoying the flattery, I want to steer the conversation away from what I may or may not be wearing. “Have you seen Dean, or Thad?”
Shane’s eye twitches, just a little. “Thad’s here?” He recovers quickly, rolling his eyes at himself self-deprecatingly. “Of course he’s here. I should have known.”
“Dean?” I prompt again.
“No sign of Dean yet, but I just arrived.” Shane’s eyes roam over my body again. “We’ll look together. Let me get you a drink.”
I don’t know that I entirely trust Shane to do right by Dean. I don’t know that I entirely trust Shane, full stop. But I also feel a little self-conscious wandering around this boat by myself, in this outfit. Shane might be a little overeager, but I imagine there are guys on this boat who might be far more aggressive, and this outfit seems to invite that kind of attention, whether I want it to or not. Maybe keeping the devil I know by my side might keep away the devil I don’t.
“Sure,” I agree at last. “White wine, please.”
As Shane hurries off to fulfill my request, I continue to scan the main deck for Dean. Something I haven’t been able to really piece together is why he’s even here. Looking at the other people aboard, this doesn’t seem like Dean’s usual crowd. Sure, there are some partiers like the Delta girls who are just here for a good time. But most of the people around me seem to be fairly well-to-do, upper-class, on board to see and be seen as they do some serious, high-stakes gambling. After spending the last few days familiarizing myself with Dean’s arrest record, I know he’s not the innocent, wrong-place, wrong-time bystander that my mother paints him out to be. He’s definitely dipped his toe into some seriously bad stuff, especially if the mobster who tried to kidnap me was telling the truth about Dean stealing their Molly. Who steals drugs from the mafia, anyway? An idiot, that’s who.
I can’t for the life of me figure out why he would be on this boat, unless he’s trying to count cards or rig a game. But surely even Dean should be smart enough to figure out that when people are betting this much money just to buy in, the security on the boat won’t be messing around. I’ve already spotted four security staff just on the main deck—one watching from the cockpit, one posted by the stairs leading to the upper deck, and two in plain clothes, circulating and observing everyone carefully to make sure nothing gets out of hand.
What is Dean up to? And where is he? My bet would be in one of the cabins, buying in on one of the high-stakes poker games. I’m half tempted to leave Shane here and search by myself, when I feel someone step in closer to me than is necessary, putting my body on full alert.
