My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,79
me, and I know this cruise is exactly what we needed. Now that we’ve pulled away from the dock and waved to the fishermen coming in from their day’s work, Abigail steps down from her perch.
“What is there to do aboard?”
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice calls out, and I groan.
No fucking way. But yes, there they are.
“I thought that was you, Abi. I was afraid you were ending it all by throwing yourself overboard.” Emily laughs as though that’s a funny joke, but there’s an actual thread of disappointment.
Emily is wearing another white bikini top, a sheer white coverup, and frayed white denim shorts. My guess is that her entire suitcase is full of bridal white since it’s her honeymoon.
Doug has on a salmon-colored polo with the collar popped, khaki shorts, and boat shoes.
They’re the picture of the upper-crust yacht crowd.
“Hey, Lorenzo. Good to see you,” Doug says with an offered hand.
We shake and then the awkward silence stretches longer and longer. A waiter walks by with a tray of wine and beer, and Abigail practically dives for it. Taking a white wine, she grabs a beer for me, and I watch with an internal eye roll as Emily does the same.
Maybe Emily just likes white wine, or maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to risk spilling the red on her white outfit, but I’m pretty sure that if Abi had grabbed a beer and chugged it in one go, Emily would try to do the same.
Hmm, that might be a fun theory to test.
“So, what’s up first?” Emily asks as she drains her first wine. “I was thinking a little gambling.”
We end up at blackjack after a little bit of debate. At first, Emily wanted to play Texas Hold ’Em, but Doug and I were dead set against that. Hold ’Em has players going against each other, and I don’t want to give Emily and Abigail a reason to get pissy with each other. Though I can’t be certain of his reasons, Doug was equally against Hold ’Em and had the suggestion of blackjack, a much better option for our ladies.
Because blackjack’s against the dealer. Everyone can win, and everyone can lose. So we find a table, and pretty soon, we’ve all got our pile of chips, a thousand dollars each.
To Emily and Doug, it’s probably pocket change. To Abigail’s family, it’s pocket change. To me, that’s a big investment, and I wonder if I’ll need to call Violet for a little ‘help’ here if we lose.
But the thing is . . . we don’t lose.
I’ve played before, but I get on a lucky streak like I’ve never seen before. I keep playing smartly, not letting my greed get ahead of my head to make the most of my hot streak. When I finally take a moment to count my chip pile after hitting it big with an ace-queen blackjack, I’ve got fifty-seven hundred dollars.
That’s nearly six month’s rent in some places. Hell, it’s a year’s living expenses in others. I could take this windfall and go so many places, virtually anywhere I’d like to experience. Knowing what opportunities this pile can hold, I quit playing and simply watch the others. Abigail loses two hundred from her thousand, while Emily and Doug stay around the break-even point.
I’m glad when they agree that they’ve had enough and are ready to move on to something else.
“So what’s waiting for you when you guys get back?” Emily asks us as she snags another wine.
Abigail doesn’t mirror Emily, though, and grabs a water with lime this time. I’m sure she’s being responsible and thinking about tomorrow when we have early morning wake-up calls to get to work for the rehearsal.
“The flower shop for me,” Abigail shares. “I just made my last loan payment, so now it’s time to see how I can maybe expand. The hope is to one day really write my own ticket. Like how Violet does.”
“Ah, yes, Violet. She’s your cousin, Lorenzo, right?”
I nod agreeably. “Well, widely separated. Italians don’t have a phrase for just how far apart our branches of the family tree are. Everyone is simply family.”
Before anyone can respond, a disembodied voice on the PA system announces, “All right, everyone . . . report to the top deck in ten minutes because we’ve got a good time in store for you.”
The voice is corny, like a 1950s television host, but people do start to move that way. Emily rolls her eyes dramatically as she snarks, “Cheese alert.”