STELLA
Right as I finished reserving room 319 through the internal Ritz reservation system, I heard a honk, and I peered out between the vertical blinds.
“Oh . . .” The thing was so huge that it blotted out the light coming in through the front window. “. . . my . . .” It seemed about as big as a tour bus, and on the side were big, fancy, pink, cursive letters that said:
THE LOVE BOAT
“. . . God!” The passenger-side window came down, and Nick’s face appeared from the driver’s seat. He was smiling as hard as I’d ever seen him smile. He planted his big hand on the middle of the steering wheel, without taking his eyes off me. Beep-beep went the horn again.
I made the sign I used to make as a kid on road trips and yanked an imaginary horn from above.
Which he answered with a magnificent, Beeeeeeeeeep-beeeeeeeep, so loud and deep that it made teacups rattle.
The vertical blinds swung as I pulled my hand away. I logged out of the reservation system and scrubbed my cache. Then I grabbed my bag, along with Priscilla’s bed, bright pink and smelling oddly like warm doughnuts. I clipped her retractable leash on her harness and double-checked that I hadn’t forgotten anything. First, I scanned through the regular Stella stuff on the to-pack list in my head. Toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup. Panties. Extra panties for this trip. Phone chargers. Extra phone chargers. Then I scrolled through the secret Stella stuff packing list. Puzzle box. Fake gem. Heist blueprints. Burner phone. Charger for burner phone. Extra charger for burner phone. Rubber gloves. Electrical tape for the cameras. An assortment of memory cards, on the off chance that we could break into the security room.
I was good to go.
In the mirror, I adjusted my wig, the one I’d planned to wear as the maid. It just touched my shoulders, with a natural-looking wave that reminded me of being on the beach. I touched up my matte-red lips and put on my motorcycle boots. It was a disguise I’d never tried before—the bad girl. And I absolutely loved how it felt. Like a different me—the real me.
I made my way out the door with Priscilla trotting behind me. She galloped toward a pigeon, juking left before she got too close, and went to go tinkle on the rocks. Nick was standing on the pavement waiting for me when we rounded the corner. When he saw me, his mouth dropped open, and he let out a long, greedy, “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”
I pouted a little and struck a pose that made the D rings on my jacket jingle. “You like?”
“I love,” he growled. He ran his hand down my leggings, then unzipped my jacket. Inside was a T-shirt that Roxie had given me ages ago but that I’d never worn. On the front was a photograph of Johnny Cash, flipping the bird at the camera, after the show he’d done at Folsom. Above him was the word SPIRIT. Underneath was the word ANIMAL.
“I better hear you singing some Johnny Cash on this trip,” he said, and opened the side door for me, offering his hand to help me inside. Like an old hero helping a heroine over a puddle. He took my suitcase from me, as well as Priscilla’s bed, which he folded up under his arm like a huge, foamy taco. “After you, madam,” he said with a bow.
“Thank you, sir.”
Inside I went. The interior of the Love Boat was like a Hallmark store on Valentine’s Day. The upholstery was red velvet with embossed hearts. There was a heart-shaped container of soap by the sink, and the cabinets had frosted glass decorated with unfrosted hearts. Pillows shaped like huge candy conversation hearts sat on the bench seats. A pink one said WHY NOT? The light green said BE MINE. And the yellow said COME HERE.
“That’s surprisingly naughty,” I said, squeezing the third one.
“Wait until you see the sheets,” Nick said, stepping inside behind me.
I peeked into the master bedroom, which was an explosion of pink satin, where a gigantic heart-shaped candle sat on the side table. It was luxurious and brand spanking new. “This is really nice,” I said, admiring all the brand-new fixtures and inhaling a scent that reminded me very much of a new car. Nick set down Priscilla’s bed by the easy chair. She hurled herself into it and started gnashing on her frog’s already tragically disfigured face. A wet squeak filled the air, like the death rattle from a very sick goose.
“We’re gonna have fun, you and me,” Nick said, closing the side door behind him. The door shutting made the RV rock ever so slightly, enough to send one of the pillows toppling into Priscilla’s bed. She snatched it up in her mouth, mushing BE MINE in her jaws as her soggy frog lay limp on the floor.
Nick took a step toward me and pulled me close. “Is my new wife ready to get on the road?”
“Yessss,” I said. There was something unexpectedly sweet and wonderful about all this. I was nervous about what was ahead of us, but for right now—in that moment—I was excited. I was hopeful. I was happy. With him.
“We’re missing something, though. You know that?” He nudged my cheek with his nose and dipped me so suddenly—and with so much gusto—that I had to plant my hand on the table. The candy bowl tipped over, scattering conversation hearts everywhere. I’M YOURS. LET’S GO. DON’T TELL. And he kept on dipping me, until I was flat on my back on the folding kitchenette tabletop. The table legs squeaked under my weight.
“What are we missing?”
“Something very important. So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said, pressing one thumb into my cheek in the most possessive, intoxicating way. “I’m going to kiss you breathless, then . . .”
He looked right at me and I waited, already breathless with anticipation.
Clasping my left hand in his, he spun the fake engagement ring I was wearing and said, “Wedding bands.”
I gasped a little. It had completely slipped my mind. “Of course.” Logically I knew it was part of our cover. But a little teeny piece of my heart also knew it symbolized the start of something much bigger. And I loved that feeling. Now it was my turn to kiss him, and kiss him I did. But doing that unleashed the beast, and soon enough I was the one getting kissed again. He kissed so passionately that I had to open my eyes midkiss, just to watch him. To see him dissolve into it. Into me, and us together. He kissed like a guy who knew what he wanted and was going to take it.
And what he wanted was me.
I was about to close my eyes again and sink into that pool of passion with him, when something else caught my eye. The front seats were big captain’s chairs, plush with dark-red leather and white piping. Each had a terry cloth headrest cover. I noticed HIS had been put over the passenger’s seat, and HERS over the driver’s seat. Either Cruise America had a secret feminist agenda or . . . I inhaled hard and pushed him an inch away, giving myself just enough space to ask, “Did you rearrange those?”
He glanced over at the seats and nodded. “You’re running this show, gorgeous. I’m just along for the ride.” And then he sank back down into me, sending handfuls of hearts clattering to the floor.