Jane Davey’s Locket by Eve Langlais Page 0,5
than Adexios, Charon’s infamous son.”
“Er, isn’t he the one who lost the oar?” I whispered to Grandma.
“Yes. And tipped a few boats. Don’t worry. This thing has engines, and even if it tips, you should float despite what those Puritans in Salem used to think.”
The reassurance missed the mark.
The guide continued. “The upper deck, which we’re passing now, contains the club lounge for our exalted suite guests.”
“Which isn’t us,” I muttered.
“The two floors beneath that contain staterooms, a gym, and access to the outdoor decks with the main saltwater pool. Then we have the dining level with the ballroom. More floors with staterooms. The morgue with a variety of coffins, followed by the water level.”
“Water level?” I couldn’t help but query.
“For the aquatically inclined.”
“Why not just swim alongside the ship?” I asked.
The ghoul didn’t even blink at me, he just kept talking. “The kitchens serve food all day long. You can order room service for an extra cost.”
“Not happening,” Grandma chirped. “I brought snacks.”
“The evening meals will be followed by music and dancing.”
“I’ll be in bed.” When I wasn’t working on my resume, apparently.
The route to our room proved Grandma’s cheapness. We weren’t just buried in the ship, I could hear the engines rumbling as if in the next room, and I was less than reassured by the lack of windows once we got to our cell.
I did a quick circuit. Quick because the room was just that: tiny. I gaped at my grandma bouncing on the bottom bunk.
“You get me fired, curse my locket, drag me on a cruise, and this is our room?”
“Got a smoking deal, too.” Grandma grinned. She snagged her bag and began to rummage. “You should change.” Advice given as the old woman pulled out a string bikini.
“I’m fine.” A collared t-shirt tucked into a tennis skort. Sensible running shoes. My hair tightly braided and pinned in a crown atop my head.
“Then at least find a drink.”
“Don’t tell me you splurged for the beverage package.”
That sent Grandma into a fit of laughter. “Oh, dear Janey. A witch never pays for a drink. You should always charm someone into buying it.”
“You know I’m not good at that kind of magic.”
“Not magic. Charm. As in being nice to someone. Smiling, maybe flirting a little. Batting your lashes.”
“Have you met me?” I stared at my grandma, who sighed.
“You could try to be nice, you know. It’s not that hard.”
“That would involve talking to people. Not a fan of it.”
“You talk to me,” Grandma pointed out.
“Because someone needs to say ‘no’ to you once in a while.”
“You need friends, Jane.”
“I have friends.”
“Who are all married. When was the last time you saw them?” Grandma asked softly.
I crossed my arms. “A while. They’ve been busy.” With their husbands and children and lives that didn’t have a lot of room for a single friend who didn’t babysit or have anyone young enough to make a playdate. “Just because they got hitched doesn’t mean I have to. A woman can have a fulfilling life alone. I mean, look at you, single and rocking it.”
“Age is a number. With the proper state of mind, you can be young forever.” She primped her hair, the white curly mass wild, and since I’d seen her last, streaked with blue. It matched her bikini.
“This better not be a singles’ cruise.” I did not need a bunch of horny guys trying to get into my pants.
“No. This is even better. There are about five weddings planned for this trip. Which means, groomsmen galore.” Grandma clapped her hands, her expression alight with excitement.
“Oh, heck no. I’m out of here.” Dread had me grabbing my bag and heading for the door. One step. It took too long.
A horn blared, and the floor underfoot began to rattle alarmingly. Hard enough my teeth vibrated.
“And off we go! Try and pretend to have fun.” Grandma shoved past me.
“Where are you going?”
“To check out the boat.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Aren’t we going to hang together?” I asked.
“I love you Janey Waney, but you need to make some friends and loosen up. Because I will be, and I can’t have you cramping my style.”
With that final statement, off she went. Leaving me alone. Which was fine. I’d brought a book. I stuck my hand into my bag to find it. The inside proved as messy as my dresser. My hand sank deeper, my arm submerged to my elbow, fingers touching a bunch of stuff, including something moist and mushy. Then…success.
I pulled forth my battered