Sweet Reality by Laura Heffernan (7)

 

 

 

 

Welcome to our first full day at sea. We’ve got a day packed with activities, from miniature golf on the eighteenth deck to the Hairy Back Contest by the pool to arts and crafts in the kids’ only area. The gym on the fourth floor is open all day, as is the attached spa.

 

Mid-morning, drop by the theater for a Q&A and autograph session with Danielle Rossellini, the star of last year’s breakout hit, Suddenly Single in Seattle.

 

After lunch, four of our reality stars face off to create the perfect dessert for our host, America’s Totally ’80s Bake-Off ’s Tammy Rae! Former contestants from other shows will be on hand to judge.

 

Meet us on the Lido Deck at 1:00 PM. Stick around after the winners are announced for a sample of Tammy Rae’s show-winning chocolate coconut cupcakes recipe. You definitely won’t want to miss these, but there’s a limited supply, so don’t be late.

 

Full schedule of Monday’s events 2-3

Map of the ship 4-5

Meet Our Captain 6

 

Our other roommates apparently either missed the boat or paid for upgrades to better rooms, because Rachel and I found ourselves alone in our cabin. We didn’t mind. Already, Rachel’s excess clothes and accessories littered the top of both bunk beds. Two more bodies wouldn’t have fit.

The next morning, I armed for battle before heading to the dining room for breakfast. My new white-and-purple sundress flattered my coloring perfectly. White wedge sandals helped me stand tall. Well, tall-er. At five-foot-four, I’d never stand super tall without stilts. A slathering of sunblock gave me the coconut odor I would forever associate with all things The Fishbowl. I took twice my usual amount of time with my hair and makeup, despite knowing twenty seconds in the winds on the Lido Deck would render my newly created curls flaccid. When I finally told Rachel I was ready to go to breakfast, I felt like a million bucks.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing a green bikini and flip-flops. “You don’t look like you’re heading to the pool. And you’re not holding a fruity beverage. I see no umbrellas.”

“Isn’t it early for alcohol?”

“We’re on vacation! It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“Okay, true, but I need your help,” I said.

“Are there cabana boys involved?”

I thought about it for a minute. “Probably not. But there is one evil bitch, and your old friend needs backup. Ariana is probably at this very moment trying to convince Justin to dump me and go out with her instead.”

“Well, that’s a waste of breath. Didn’t she bring a date?”

“Remember the guy from the Q&A? The one who asked me about second chances? That’s my ex.”

“Oh, right.” Rachel said. “Never mind, then. That girl is clearly on a mission.”

“Exactly. She told me her agent set it up and she didn’t know, but why would I believe her? This is the girl who lied about having an art history degree for no apparent reason. Nothing she says can be trusted.”

“Ugh. What a mess. But seriously, Jen, don’t worry. Justin loves you,” Rachel said. “Don’t let your insecurities ruin a good thing. Go. Be awesome. I’m sure he won’t pay any attention to her. It’s a huge ship.”

“But . . . come with me?” I puffed out my lower lip and gazed up at her with sad, round eyes.

Rachel sighed heavily. “Fine. But you owe me a fruity, boozy beverage later.”

“Did I mention they have mimosas in the dining room?”

“No, you did not! Let me grab a cover-up. I need to do my makeup before facing this witch.”

Justin messaged me that he’d been seated at a table for eight by the window on the starboard side. I let him know Rachel and I would be meeting him shortly.

At dinner the night before, the waiter had explained that on a regular cruise, guests were seated randomly at large tables, regardless of the number of people in their party. New diners were taken to any table with space for them unless they asked for a private table. That meant most passengers would be seated with strangers unless they requested otherwise. The idea was that it promoted interaction among passengers from all over the world.

The producers had asked the waitstaff to continue this practice for our trip, even though it would leave about half the tables in this dining room unused for the duration. Great. I wouldn’t have minded being randomly seated with a nice retired couple from Idaho or something, but the fans had been funneled to another dining room. Sitting at a random table with two friends and five empty seats virtually guaranteed that Ariana and Dominic would be joining us, along with everyone’s best friend, Murphy’s Law.

When I turned toward the stairs instead of the elevator, Rachel stopped. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the stairs.”

“Well, yes, I see that. Why?”

I dropped my voice in case anyone was listening. “I can’t stand the possibility of being trapped in an elevator with Dominic or Ariana. Or worse both. Not even with you beside me.”

She lifted one foot, revealing perfectly polished, cherry-red toenails and three-inch wedges on her sandals. “You can’t possibly expect me to take the stairs in these.”

Reality TV makes for strange bedfellows, but you really got to know someone when locked in a house with them for eight weeks. I wracked my brain, trying to recall a story she’d once told me. “Didn’t you help deliver a calf on your way to prom, in a floor-length mermaid gown and six-inch stilettos? Right before being crowned queen?”

Her gaze dropped to the ground. “That story may have been embellished for the sake of the viewers.”

I crossed my arms and waited, not speaking, as her lips twitched. We could have been in the dining room already.

Finally, she met my eyes. A giggled escaped. “They were five-inch stilettos. Darn you and your perfect memory.”

I followed her down the stairs, listening to her faked grumbles every step of the way and hoping we didn’t run into Ariana or Dominic on the way to the dining room.

For once, my luck held out. Ed and Connor waited at the table with Justin already. I dropped into the empty seat at Justin’s right and rested my head on his shoulder.

“I missed you last night,” I said. “Rachel doesn’t snore. It was too quiet.”

She snorted. “I may not snore, but it sure wasn’t quiet in our room.”

I flushed, and Justin kissed my forehead.

“Told you I’m not the one who snores.” he said, lifting my chin until our lips met.

The strain of the last twenty-four hours vanished. I moved my hand to his thigh, and a thrill went through me when he tensed beneath my palm. Five minutes. I’d have given anything for a mere five minutes alone with him. Maybe we could sneak into a bathroom or something. They couldn’t have cameras everywhere.

Across the table, Ed cleared his throat. “Get a room.”

“We’re trying.” I grumbled, my lips still attached to Justin’s. “The Network said no.”

“Sorry, Jen, but I can’t hear you with that lawyer on your face.”

With an exaggerated groan, I moved back to my seat. My hand remained on Justin’s thigh. He squeezed it under the table, and I smiled at the promise in that touch. We’d find some alone time, sooner or later.

Less than five minutes after we sat down, the hostess brought Danielle to join us.

“No way,” Ed said. “You can’t sit with us.”

“What is this? Some movie about high school?”

Apparently, he’d seen her show. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him about Danielle after the Q&A, so he had no idea we’d worked things out. I’d much rather sit and eat with Danielle than Ariana and Dominic. Or her rude friend, Marilyn or whoever.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Danielle and I have a lot in common. We’re going to be BFFs.”

He shot me a questioning look.

“Really,” I said. Danielle smiled at me gratefully, and I continued. “Dominic’s not allowed within twenty-five feet of her. And since I don’t want to see him, either, letting Danielle sit with us is the best way to have a peaceful breakfast.”

“Dude’s not a total wanker,” Ed said. “If he hadn’t lied and cheated on you and come to help Ariana steal your man, I might actually like him.”

Rachel snorted.

Justin said, “I doubt she came all this way just to break us up. As if she could.”

Although I wouldn’t put anything past Ariana, now wasn’t the time to argue. The look in his eyes made my face grow warm. I raised our clasped hands to my lips, my eyes never leaving his.

Ed cleared his throat. “Let’s change the subject before the lovebirds make us too uncomfortable. Connor and I aren’t allowed to make out in public, and we’re getting peanut butter and jelly over here. Please let us enjoy our breakfast before he has to start working, and I have to go schmooze the fans.”

“Let me stay, and I’ll tell you a secret,” Danielle said. Ed motioned for her to continue. “The hot chocolate in the dining room is ten times better than what they serve upstairs. Even without booze. Down here, they make it with milk instead of water.”

Ed waved the waiter over and ordered five, signaling that all was forgiven.

Danielle said, “Did you see the improv show last night?”

Talking comedy was the best possible way to Ed’s heart. Before our beverages even arrived, the two of them were chatting like old friends about the show I’d missed the night before and the stand-up contest Ed would be hosting later in the week. Seeing everyone get along put my mind at ease.

Craning my neck, I scoured the room for Tammy Rae, hoping to get a chance to say hello before the bake-off. Finally, I spotted her on the other side of the room, being led toward us. Under the table, I crossed my fingers, silently begging the waiter to bring her to one of our empty seats.

Tammy Rae (never Tammy, although I didn’t know if Rae was her last name, part of her first name, or an affectation) fronted an all-girls pop band from 1984 to 1988. At nineteen, she quit the band to go to college, and mostly vanished until the cast of Totally ’80s Bake-off went live a couple of years ago.

Nearly twenty years after the height of her fame, Tammy Rae still sported her trademark long blonde hair and big blue eyes, although at some point, she ditched the perm. A wise choice, indeed. She looked much older than I expected, which shouldn’t have surprised me since she’d been famous before I was born. From what I could see, her music videos must’ve been filmed either wearing platform heels or using special camera angles to increase her height. Her head bobbed along only a few inches above the waiter’s elbow. Perhaps I should’ve worn flats; even I would tower over this woman.

To my chagrin, the waiter sat her beside Ariana and Dominic at a table across the room. I hadn’t noticed them sitting there until the waiter swerved away from us, winding his way toward the far windows. That made it impossible for me to go introduce myself to Tammy Rae, like I’d planned. The idea was to befriend her, butter her up, find out what she wanted in exchange for the secret ingredient, then figure out how to give it to her.

Unfortunately, if Ariana suspected I wanted information from Tammy Rae, the poor woman would probably find herself locked in a closet for the rest of the trip. Still, I kept one eye on the table, searching for my opening, while half-heartedly participating in conversation about everyone’s plans for the day.

Justin, always a good sport, told animated tales from his final semester in law school, knowing I’d heard the stories and didn’t need to listen to laugh at the right places. In response to my grateful look, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. I lingered over breakfast as long as possible, trying not to obviously stare but also never letting Tammy Rae out of my sight. Ed and Connor gave up waiting for me and went to find the pool. Rachel and Danielle soon followed, with a promise to message me their location once they got settled.

Eventually, two glasses of water and a pot of hot cocoa caught up with me. The ship’s layout turned me around twice on the way to the restroom, which for some reason wasn’t connected to the dining room. By the time I found my way back, Tammy Rae’s table sat empty. Dominic and Ariana were gone, but so was she.

My shoulders slumped. I’d missed my chance.

* * *

There wasn’t much time to dwell on missing Tammy Rae at breakfast. Leanna swept me, Justin, and the other judges to the salon for hair and makeup before the baking competition started. Then she isolated us from the contestants by banishing everyone to an empty seating area. It didn’t seem prudent to remind her that one of the contestants was my close friend and Justin’s cabinmate. Avoiding Ed now after we ate breakfast with him seemed illogical to me, but it wasn’t worth arguing.

Not that it mattered. We’d agreed to judge because Sweet Reality needed the publicity. Ed loved cooking but had zero experience as a baker; he was doing the contest more to increase visibility and entertain the audience than to win the actual prize—dinner for two at one of the private onboard restaurants. Justin, Ed, and I all knew he wasn’t likely to win, and that was fine. Voting for my friend’s creation if it wasn’t amazing would only convince people I didn’t know what delicious baked goods tasted like. Not exactly the impression I wanted to convey right before inviting people to purchase food from my bakery.

It was bad enough that the audition video of me burning cookies still got hits on YouTube. No one cared how many times I made cookies while on the show, or how good they turned out. None of my prior baking experience, or the fact that the oven knob came off in my hand, made a difference. All that mattered was, the first time I filmed myself baking, I set off the fire alarm while talking about how much I liked making cookies. After The Fishbowl became available on Netflix, that clip went viral. Someone auto tuned it.

Which, okay, that video totally cracked me up when Brandon showed me. I may have saved it on my phone to watch whenever I needed a laugh.

Once the sun set, our waiting area would house a nightclub. A bar lined one wall, and a dance floor sat in the middle. Neon strips in several colors crisscrossed the floor. There was no TV in the lounge, but the other judges scattered around the room. The windows provided glorious ocean views with no sun, wind, or rain. If other people knew this spot existed, they’d pack in like sardines every day.

Justin wound his way through the room to a spot near the rear window. I went to grab a couple of waters someone set out on the bar before going to join him. He stood stiffly, brow furrowed. When I held out his water, he took it and set it on a nearby table with a mumbled, “thanks,” his eyes never leaving the water.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, planting a soft kiss on the back of his neck before leaning into him. “Everything okay? I know the view is glorious, but it hasn’t changed much since we spent two hours looking at it last night after dinner.”

He sighed and turned in my arms, kissing the top of my head gently. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about my mom. She’s not much older than Tammy Rae, you know. And Tammy Rae is vibrant, larger-than-life, running around making reality shows on a cruise ship. Mom’s confined to a bed, so full of tubes and medication she barely remembers me.”

My heart went out to him. “I’m so, so–”

He placed one finger against my lips. “Shh. You know how I am with public sympathy. Say something else.”

“Want to go have sex behind the bar before the bake-off starts?”

“Yes!”

“Sadly, we can’t,” I said. “Anyway, do you want to beg internet time off the producers so we can email Sarah for an update?”

“Thanks, but no. Sarah would get upset if she knew I was worrying instead of relaxing out here.” He sighed. “I wanted to wait until we got home to tell you this, but Sarah and I think it’s time to move Mom into full-time hospice care. I wish we didn’t have to, but caring for her on our own is really taking a toll, and ever since Dad broke his back, he’s not much help. He needs surgery. It could be months before he’s back on his feet.”

I started to tell him again how sorry I was that he was going through all this, but stopped myself. “We’ll work everything out when we get home.”

He smiled at me. “Thanks. I’m trying not to worry about them. But my phone’s battery still isn’t charging, which means I can’t call Sarah while we’re in the ports like I promised.”

“You can use my phone.”

“I love you.” He kissed me briefly before returning to the view. In the distance, a few splashes reminded me we weren’t alone out here in this ocean. A bird swooped out of the sky, plucking a fish from the ocean and veering away from the ship.

Still staring out the window, Justin smoothed his fingers over the pocket of his cargo shorts. He’d been doing that a lot the past few days. Maybe it was a subconscious gesture, but it always took my thoughts back to that day in the shop.

Was he carrying the ring around with him on the ship? When would he pull it out? Before the bake-off? After? What did it mean if he didn’t propose at all this week? Was the botched proposal a bad omen? Or was he just looking for the right moment?

It killed me that I couldn’t ask what he thought about this very important topic. But I didn’t want to ruin whatever surprise he planned. Not a second time.

“If anything goes wrong, the producers will tell us. I gave Sarah the emergency number for the ship.”

“I know. That’s not all of it.” He hesitated, biting his lip. “I told you the bar results are being posted Friday?”

It was Monday, meaning he had four long days to worry before finding out his fate. Between his mom being sick, his failed proposal, and waiting for the results, his moodiness and distraction suddenly made perfect sense.

Leaning over, I kissed his cheek. “I’m sure you passed. You’re super smart, and no one could’ve studied more than you. Try not to worry about it.”

He pulled me close, murmuring a thank you into my hair.

What Justin really needed was to rest and relax for a week. He wouldn’t say it, but he also worried about whether the bakery would turn a profit. Our financial future had been a concern even before we found out about Patty’s Cakes. Justin wouldn’t rest and relax until I hurried up and got Tammy Rae’s secret ingredient.