Love in a Murderous Place Chapters 7 & 8

Chapter 7

Few could match Diana’s uncanny ability to project pure, refined disinterest, compressed, vacuum sealed and neatly bundled with a pretty ribbon on top. Retail workers, though. The career ones—the fifty-five-year-old woman on her twenty-fifth year working the returns counter at a department store, and those of her ilk. People like that put Diana to shame. Perhaps when she was done, Diana could buy this guy a drink and he could share a few tips. In the meantime, she had a job to do. He was about done talking, and Diana wasn’t really listening, that wasn’t how these things went. A new round was about to begin. She was up. Gripping the counter, Diana brandished her weapon, flailing it wildly in his face. “And I’m telling you, that there is absolutely no good reason you can’t take this coupon. It says twenty percent off, so I expect at least twenty percent off, if not more for my troubles. You do know I'm a diamond suite guest, right?”

Like a sagely old turtle, the man just bobbed his head. Slow, lethargic, his eyes half closed. He spoke in a slow, patient, almost rhythmic sway. This was just another Thursday for him. “Of course, ma’am. I understand you’re very frustrated. Now, as I’m sure you know ma’am, Magic Moments is an Opal Cruise Lines subsidiary merchant. And if we take a quick look together at your coupon here, we can see that this coupon was not issued by Opal Cruise Lines, but a franchise-based electronics store chain which went out of business five years ago. So, unfortunately ma’am, the system won’t take your coupon. I’m truly sorry, I understand how frustrating this is for you.” And good lord, the practice: the poise, the delivery, such perfectly packaged condescension. His disdain—so thinly veiled, so colorful—a bright garnish of parsley atop a five star meal. One of those tiny little ones, too, that only rich assholes pretended to like. He was a fucking artist, a master craftsman at work. Did he give seminars, perhaps? Diana simply had to attend one. Anyway, it was her turn.

“Listen…” she took a quick glance at his name tag, “Jeremy. It doesn’t matter. Look at this: it says right here, plain as day: ‘this coupon is good for twenty percent off any camera from one of the following manufacturers…’ you see? The camera I want to buy is on that list, and this coupon says any camera. It doesn’t say anywhere that the camera has to come from a specific store; I expect you to honor that. I don’t wanna hear any more excuses from you. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I take my business elsewhere?” Diana cocked an eyebrow, and, without another word, pushed her coupon flat against the counter, then shoved it toward Jeremy, fixing him with an expectant look.

He forced a practiced smile, took the coupon into his hands, and nodded. “I understand, ma’am. Give me a moment and I’ll see what I can do about this.” Not a singular ounce of urgency found its way into Jeremy’s stride as he lumbered away, swaying in perfect step with the rocking of the ship.

Diana breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and cast a quick glance toward Ashley and Claire. Fuck, they were still hunched over the display cam’s laptop. How much longer would she need to keep this guy distracted? If she were being completely honest, Diana actually felt a little bad about this one. No doubt, she had absolutely zero qualms being the most insufferable bitch on the planet, but only toward people who deserved it—and maybe in cases where it was kind of funny. This guy, though—Jeremy wasn’t hurting anyone. He was just some guy. Entry level wage slaves were, well, they were like her: glued to the lowermost rung, scraping off whatever they could from the leftover yeasty gunk stuck to the bottom. And vegemite fucking sucked—so Diana had heard, anyway.

With each tick of that tacky holographic clock off in the corner, Diana felt her patience wane. She rapped her knuckles against the counter with increasing pace and ferocity, glaring at her accomplices across the room. For fuck’s sake, how long did it take to copy a few files from one laptop to another? This place was a nightmare, claustrophobic, too bright. Despite being aboard for nearly two days, she could still hardly stand through the motion of the ocean. And it was the whole ship, too. Fucking Ashley, either all that paranoia and unease of hers was starting to rub off, or she was actually right. She felt like she was being watched, and not the private kind that she already knew about. Watched in ways that made the back of her neck itch and her hands shake. Watched like back then. Like when every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig might mean some crazed WASP was about to try and vivisect her. Like when she would burn herself with her lighter or punch herself in her shoddy backyard stitches to stay awake, to keep the adrenaline flowing.

God dammit, her hands were shaking. Diana needed another cigarette. Or a drink. Maybe a good fuck. Just—literally anything to calm her nerves at this point. But no, instead there was just more of that ticking. And the hum, that electric whine which permeated anywhere too many electronics could be found. Low level background radiation. So easy to tune out, yet the second Diana had noticed, it was too late: the droning had already lodged itself into her brain, and it dug real deep.

Another glance, this one toward the back office. Jeremy was no doubt stalling while he thought up a new tactic. Again, harassing a minimum wage—or whatever the fuck camera salespeople on cruise ships made—worker wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, but at least it was something to do. She could go check on Ashley, but if Jeremy came back while Diana was away from her post, he might see that there were people fucking with a laptop which had ‘do not touch’ written on it. No, Diana needed to stay put.

Maybe she could come up with a reason to be mad at the guy while she waited. She wasn’t above manufacturing a justification for being insufferable; she did that shit all the time. It wouldn’t take much. Maybe he liked mint-chip ice cream. That would be kind of an overreaction, but Diana was literally dying for a reason. Besides, she’d torn into people over far less than liking that shitty frozen toothpaste with jagged shards of rock-solid chocolate mixed in.

Then, like a rope thrown to a dangling climber, fingers seconds from slipping, Claire called out to her. “Yo, D.”

“No,” Diana responded. “Definitely not.”

“Whatever, we got what we needed. Let’s bounce.” That was the best idea she’d heard all day.

Her companions already making for the exit, Diana moved to follow, before pausing after a single step, and glancing back toward the back office. Was that guilt? Or just sea sickness? She honestly couldn’t tell. When did she get so fucking wound up? As it were, Diana was stuck squeezing every last bit of feeling she had through a little metal tube. All that garbage was getting so fucking packed; she couldn’t tell what any of it meant. Not like this. She snatched at her bag, and pulled out a small wad of bills, leaving it on the counter and blazing out of the store. Asshole better appreciate how generous she was.

Ashley waited for her just outside the entrance, watching her with a bit of smug satisfaction, maybe hope? “What was that about?” she asked as Diana pushed past her.

“Call it absolution. Or don’t, I don’t care. Did you find it?” Diana was already marching through the hall, not bothering to check if the others were following. Fresh air, she needed to be outside.

“We think so,” Ashley answered, rushing forward then keeping pace at Diana’s side. “Are you good?”

There went little miss goody two shoes and her pity party. “I’ll be good once I’m off this fucking boat,” Diana hissed. “Let’s find someplace quiet to look through those files. And I need a drink.”

Ashley nodded. “I think there’s a bar and lounge pretty much right above us, like five decks up? We can take the elevator.”

In lieu of a response, Diana made a bee-line for the elevator bays. She mashed the call button repeatedly until the doors opened. At least there wasn’t much of a wait. She dragged herself inside. Claire and Ashley followed suit. By the time they piled in Diana was already slumped against the wall. With a well-manicured nail, Ashley picked the floor, and the doors shut behind them. Sighing, Diana took a slow breath, and leaned her head back. It was actually pretty nice, as far as elevators went: no weird smell, air conditioning, padded walls, glass doors to gaze upon their ascent through; tinny speakers played ‘The Girl From Ipanema.’ Diana chuckled. “You wanna know something embarrassing?” Her voice, a low croak, was barely audible over the music.

“What’s that?” Ashley asked.

“I actually like this song,” Diana admitted.

With a scoff, and a light giggle, Claire fell against the opposite wall and shook her head. “That’s me with ‘Careless Whisper.’”

Two pairs of expectant eyes turned to Ashley, who gave her companions a blank look, then breathed a soft “oh” as realization hit her. Suddenly on the spot, Ashley blushed, and swayed in place, fidgeting her hands. It was kind of cute. “Uh, ‘Tubthumbing’ I guess?”

“Wha—?” Diana barked.

“That’s like a whole different kind of song,” Claire giggled.

Nodding, Diana continued. “Do you often hear ‘Tubthumping’ on elevators?”

After a few seconds of incoherent sputtering, Ashley found her words. “Well—no, but it’s like—a guilty pleasure song, y’know?”

“So you’re just not gonna tell us where the ‘Tubthumping’ elevator is.”

Hiding her head in her hands, Ashley groaned. “Not you too, Claire.”

The elevator decided to take pity on Ashley, and came to a halt a moment later. The doors opened, and Diana gestured to Ashley. “Lead the way. I need a whiskey drink, maybe a vodka drink or a lager drink.”

If Ashley glared any harder, Diana would need shades. “I’m starting to miss cruel, vindictive Diana.”

Pushing past the two, Claire rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, the elevator isn’t going to wait for you two to finish flirting.”

That, at least, got Ashley to turn heel and blaze right ahead to their destination—Diana wasn’t really sure what the big deal was. The bar itself was a short walk down the hall. Inside was relatively quiet; Diana watched Ashley and Claire cross the bar to an arrangement of shallow couches which surround a black, polished wood coffee table.

She’d join them in a moment, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Two days had passed since the Horizon Sapphire set sail, and if those two days served as any indication, Diana was beginning to doubt whether there was enough alcohol on the entire ship to keep her from going insane. For the time being, she’d settle with just one drink, or two, or five. At least the bar itself was nice and sturdy, she’d collapsed onto far worse bars in life. This one didn’t smell like piss. Granite furniture did tend to have that going for it—not smelling like piss. Maybe it was marble; a marble bar, not the piss thing. Diana couldn’t really tell which, she wasn’t a geologist. What mattered was the bar was made of rock, and rock was denser than wood so it didn’t absorb the piss smell. The venue was probably also a factor in this case.

“Girl, are you okay? You look like you're smelling the bar? I’m a bit worried” If there was a god, she fucking hated Diana.

“Did you follow me here, Laura?” Perhaps, if Diana kept her eyes shut, she could simply wish the interaction away.

“Bitch, I was here first.” It had been worth a try. “I thought you’d at least want a drinking buddy.”

Groaning, Diana opened her eyes, and sat up. Laura was gazing at her phone down the straw of a daiquiri. “Why are you even here? I thought you were tanning.”

Without looking up, Laura finished sipping from her drink, and started typing something on her phone as she spoke. “Yeah, for sure. It’s good to see you too, babe. You look like you’re in a great mood. And thanks for the drink.”

“Mhm,” Diana mumbled. “Doing great, just had a panic attack.”

“Wow, that must have been, like, super hard for you,” Laura droned, before holding out her phone, leaning closer to Diana and flashing a big smile as she snapped a selfie. She examined the photo, head tilting from side to side as humming as she judged her work. “You couldn’t have at least smiled?” she asked, writing a quick caption and sending the photo, then turning to face Diana. “Oh come on, cheer up. We’re on vacation.” Laura gave a quick, peppy clap of her hands, then folded them in her lap and scooted her stool toward Diana’s, before fixing her with an exaggerated puppy-dog look.

“So um, I have an idea to cheer you up, but I kinda need your help. You know me, total ditz sometimes right?” If Laura expected an answer, she didn’t leave room for one. “Well I was talking to this guy earlier. Super cool, super nice, super cute, and like, really rich too. Anyway we were chatting, and he asked me if I wanted to party with him. And I was like ‘yeah, duh, of course I wanna party. I bet my bestie Diana would love to come too, she’s been in a bad mood lately so could use some fun.’ And he was like ‘great, meet me and boys at the Cerulean Lounge tonight, bring your friends.’ By the way that’s like the super exclusive VIP club that you can only get into from inside the executive suites and costs like fifty thousand dollars a night or whatever. And I was like ‘cool, sounds great, we’ll totally be there.’ But like, here’s the part where I was a ditz—and you’re gonna hate me for this, I know—but I kinda told him I could bring some stuff, and I kinda forgot about how I left it at home, so I need a favor from my bestie.”

Oftentimes, when people gave out advice on how to deal with a shitty situation, they’d use the ‘rip off the bandaid’ metaphor. The problem with Laura was, one could not rip off a bandaid when the bandaid wouldn’t stop talking for long enough to be ripped off. “Please just cut to the chase. What do you need?”

Patting Diana on the shoulder, Laura beamed. “Gosh, such a great friend, I knew I could count on you. Anyway I need some coke. Maybe like, two ounces?”

A good ten seconds must have passed before Diana managed to close her mouth, and dredge up a response. “Laura, we’re on a cruise ship. How the fuck would I have coke?”

Laura shrugged, shaking her head. “I dunno, I thought maybe you had a guy.”

“On a cruise ship? Are you high? Yeah lemme just call my fucking coke guy. He’ll fly right out here and sell to me. And do you have any idea how much two whole ounces would cost? That’s like more than this whole trip.” On second thought, there definitely wasn’t enough alcohol on board to get Diana through the week.

With a dismissive flick of her wrist, Laura spun around her in her stool, and resumed texting on her phone. “You know Diana, maybe if you were nicer to people, then you would have a coke guy on a cruise ship.”

Nobody deserved this. Diana hid her head in her hands. She needed out of this conversation; she’d take literally anything. And, at that moment, the divine light of heaven manifested itself as a meaty hand sliding a copper mug across the bar toward her. The drink slid in a smooth arc, curving with the ship’s sway, and stopped perfectly in front of her. “Here’s your mule, ma’am!” A cheerful, familiar voice called. A quick glance upward confirmed it; Diana nodded to herself. This would do.

Heaving a sigh, Diana leaned back, and stirred her drink, then took a sip. It would do. More importantly: “Dude—What was it? Josh? I ordered this like two hours ago.”

Josh gave a grin as wide as his glossy, thoughtless eyes, and nodded his head hard enough to make his two remaining brain cells rub together. “I know! Impressive, right? I have a great memory.”

“Uh-huh.” Diana couldn’t really be mad at him. It was like getting mad at a puppy. “So, are you the only fucking bartender on this ship?”

“No there’s uhh… twenty bars on this ship? So there’s probably at least like seventeen other bartenders. I dunno I haven’t met them all. Oh, also,” he puffed up his chest. “My official job title is actually a guest services and beverage liaison.”

“Cool, so um, no offense but are you stalking me? Like why are you not at the other bar?”

If she looked closely, Diana was pretty sure she would be able to see the little processors in his brain try their hardest not to overheat. “Uhhh—oh yeah you left before the thing didn’t you? There was a guy on the rock wall and something went wrong with his rope and he fell. I don’t think he’s dead, he was too loud. But they closed the main deck till they got that all taken care of so now I’m working this bar instead!”

“Fascinating,” Diana said, staring into her drink as she stirred with her straw. She took another sip, then stood. “Well, great catching up with both of you. But I’m gonna go. Two more of these in a bit, okay Josh?”

“You bet!” he cheered. Diana almost felt bad leaving him alone with Laura. Then again, Josh’s bubbly demeanor was probably even more agonizing to Laura than dunking her in holy water would be. Besides, anything she said to him would probably do little more than clean out his ears.

Crossing the room, and collapsing onto the sofa, drink in hand, Diana pressed the icy mug to her forehead and groaned. “Please tell me you two have something.”

“I think so,” Ashley replied.

“Yeah,” Claire continued. “Seems like your guy ran into a friend of his? And then your guy texted Travis.”

“Travis?” Diana scrunched her face and cocked her head.

“My boyfriend.” Claire sighed, and shook her head. “Anyway Travis showed up and then they talked for a bit. I didn’t recognize the third guy but he seemed to be trying to persuade your guy of something. Then your guy got all excited and started waving around this card and then led the other two off.”

“Okay, so how is that anything?” Diana asked.

“Well,” Ashley began. “Claire’s boyfriend actually works for the cruise line. He’s like some executive assistant to one of the big wigs. Apparently there’s like a whole bunch of executives from the cruise line on board? And they all rented the most expensive rooms on the ship.”

“Why are we only hearing all this now?” Diana asked.

“It didn’t seem relevant at the time,” Claire responded.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ashley interjected. “I’m thinking our guy might be one of those executives, which would have been nice of William to mention, but whatever. My theory is that the card cumstain was waving around is for one of said really expensive rooms—the ones for the uhh… what’s it called? The Cerulean Lounge?”

Dread sank its icy cold, bleached blonde claws into Diana’s heart as she slumped forward and released a guttural moan of despair. “God fucking dammit.”

“What is it?”

“I think I know how we can get into that lounge,” Diana answered, propping herself up and then falling backward into the sofa. She rubbed her temples, and took a long sip of her drink. “This is a longshot, but you two wouldn’t happen to know where we could score some coke, would you?”

Chapter 8

Acute awareness of her surroundings was not exactly Ashley’s strong suit. That aside, she was being followed. Her first clue came just after she split off from Diana and Claire to handle her piece of their plan. While walking down a hallway toward the elevator bank closest to her cabin, Ashley glimpsed a face which she could have sworn she’d seen before—not someone she knew, just some random guy reading on a sofa, an unremarkable face in the crowd seen once or twice in passing. Most days, she wouldn’t give that a second thought. Juiced on that light, but ever present buzz of paranoia and suspicion, though, Ashley couldn’t let it slide. Then, as she was waiting for her elevator to arrive, that same guy came up right beside her, and piled into the elevator with her. He got off two floors before her, but as Ashley strode with rising anxiety to her cabin, she rounded a corner, and could have sworn she saw someone scurrying off in the opposite direction of her door.

Nerves rising, Ashley found everything she would need—plus a few bonus options, just in case. As she collected her belongings, she could have sworn she heard noises near her door, but when she checked the peep-hole, the hall was empty. Taking a few deep breaths, she gathered her belongings into a canvas bag, and headed out. As she pushed open her door, Ashley suddenly became definitely, absolutely certain that something absolutely fucked was going on. Paranoia be damned, this was the real thing. In post haste, Ashley snatched up the offending evidence, and left straight for Diana’s cabin at the other end of the ship.

Every footstep, every closed or opened door, every scuff of furniture or cough or creak set Ashley on edge. And where could she hide? What nooks and crannies and twists and turns could she use to shake her pursuer? Ashley had never really considered how long, open and exposed the hallways were, so deep within the bowels of Horizon Sapphire. The subtle bend of the ship served to mask the limitations of its own dimensions. Like the curvature of the Earth mimicking an endless sea, they seemed to stretch ad infinitum. But there was hostility to these halls. They were not just vast, they were malignant: as oppressive and claustrophobic as they were expansive, burgeoning. Raw nerves, veins and arteries unraveled, artificially aligned and stretched from end to end, then tied with pretty ribbons and trimmed in gold leaf to mask insidious intent. Slip a razor blade into someone’s chocolates and they won’t notice until it's too late. She couldn’t stay here, too exposed; Ashley quickened her pace.

Questions pounded her skull as Ashley clipped down the length of the ship, scarcely paying navigation or destination any mind. Was there just the one? or was there a group? And surely the disappearances were connected to her own pursuant, but how? Why? They had hardly kicked any hornets’ nests here, the fact that somebody had been tipped off and taken action over such incredibly minor meddling screamed to Ashley that she was dealing with far more than just some common interpersonal dispute. Were they after Diana, too? Again, Ashley quickened, practically running at this point.

All this ambiguity, this subterfuge, she couldn’t stand it. Give her a decapitated corpse, crab-walking across the ceiling at her, while its disembodied head danced through the air blabbering in backward latin, and Ashley would be shouting ‘fore’ as she shoved a golf-club up it’s ass, then practiced her drive on its head. But the unshakable feeling that she was being watched, and that anyone, anywhere aboard the ship might secretly be in on a vast conspiracy which she had blindly stumbled into was different. Creeping dread didn’t have eyes for Ashley to jab her thumbs into, or ears to bite off—not that she would ever bite the ear off a corpse, that would be disgusting,

After uncounted minutes carving her path through the Horizon Sapphire’s inhospitable hospitality, Ashley found herself—almost by coincidence—standing before the door to Diana’s cabin. She paused, taking a slow breath, and gazed over either shoulder: nobody there. Repeatedly clenching and unclenching her fist, Ashley raised her prosthetic, and knocked. The thought occurred to Ashley: what if they’d already gotten to Diana? It was allowed to linger for far longer than she would have liked, as she lingered alone, exposed in the hallway. When the door opened, Ashley practically fell inside. Diana peaked out into the hallway, then shut her door, locked it, and bolted it.

“Did you get one too?” She asked, an uncharacteristic urgency and seriousness had crept into her tone.

“Yeah.” Ashley dug into her pocket, and pulled out the slip of paper she’d found stuck inside her door, handing it to Diana. Wordlessly, Diana scanned the paper, shook her head, and crumpled it in her palm.

“Mine was more or less the same, just a candid polaroid of you, me and Claire, with me circled in red pen and a bunch of random personal information written on the back. My full name, my date of birth, my home address, my work address, blood type, drinking habits, what time I got back to my cabin last night, what time I left my cabin today, then just some random time with the date a few from now written beside it. Also it said I smell like lilac shampoo and sleep on my side. Neither of those are true; that was clearly just a random shot in the dark to try and freak me out.” She trailed off, licking her lips, shaking her head, then chuckling. “They’re tryna intimidate us. And I mean, yeah, it’s working. But give me a day and I could get this info on someone too. Maybe not while stuck on a cruise ship but this isn’t that impressive. Whoever these people are they’re trying to bully us into thinking they’re more impressive, more powerful, more connected than they probably actually are—”

“—Diana—” Ashley called.

“—I’m guessing they have access to the ship’s security cameras, hell maybe that security guy was in on it—”

“—Diana—” She was louder this time.

“—or maybe it’s just that they have sway in the company. I mean clearly those executives are connected to this somehow, maybe they—”

Heart pounding in her chest, Ashley sized Diana by the wrist, and shouted, “—Diana!”

Finally snapping out of it, Diana trailed off, locking eyes with Ashley. Was that a look of worry which had just flickered across her face? “What is it?” she asked.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ashley choked, sinking onto the desk chair pressed against Diana’s cabin wall.

Humming to herself, Diana sat on her bed, chewing her lip and tapping her fingertips against the backs of her knuckles. She leaned forward, and stared at the floor, muttering to herself, before returning Ashley’s gaze and releasing a heavy breath. “You said you could help get us into that party, did you get what you were looking for?”

“Right, right—um,” Ashley laid her canvas bag in her lap and began blindly rummaging inside. Nuding aside her other acquisitions, Ashley found the little plastic baggie containing her contribution to the plan, withdrew it, and tossed it to Diana.

The bag flew in a smooth arc, landing cleanly in Diana’s lap with a soft crackling noise. Diana stared at it for a moment in, eyes wide, a bewildered half-smile on her face. She leaned back, hefting the bag in one hand, and tossing it a few times experimentally, before squeezing it, and holding it up to the light. “So what,” she began, dropping the bag on her bed and casting a bemused grin toward Ashley. “You just fuckin have cocaine?”

“Ketamine, actually,” Ashley answered.

“Oh okay. That’s much more normal,” Diana replied.

Ashley sighed, leaning her head against the wall. “Look, I have some chronic pain issues, okay? And other issues. It helps. Normally I don’t snort it, but I hear it works that way too.”

“Okay so, we give Laura the ketamine, hopefully they’ll be good with ketamine instead of coke. If they are, that honestly probably works better for us anyway, assuming they don’t just try to kidnap us right away or something. We wait until they’re all high. I told Laura if she let me in, I’d let her keep half of everything I stole, so we can count on her to let us in. They should all be mellowed by then. If not, we’ll bring more ketamine just in case, and I do still have those roofies. From there, we look around and see if we can figure out what’s going on, and if they’re the same people threatening us.” Apparently satisfied, Diana stood, and stuffed the ketamine into her purse. “I’ll text Laura, she’ll get us in. Hopefully Claire can find out who that guy we saw on the video feed was. I’ll head to the duty free, see if I can’t find a safe imitation powder—just in case we need to fake a bump. This will work. I like this plan. Nothing changes, they wanna try and scare us? We hit them first.” Where all this confidence and conviction came from, Ashley couldn’t say.

“Why even do this at this point?” she wondered. “You didn’t wanna help, what’s in it for you? Money?”

To Ashley’s surprise, Diana grew suddenly withdrawn, sinking back onto her bed and fidgeting as her eyes cast downward. “I dunno,” she mumbled. “I mean, they’re threatening us, right? If they’re gonna spy on me and maybe kidnap me or worse, I’m not just gonna take that lying down.”

Something didn’t add up, Diana was smarter than this. “You said it yourself, they’re trying to scare us. They’d probably leave you alone if you just backed down, so why not do that?”

“Are you gonna back down?” Her eyes flicked up to meet Ashley’s.

Shaking her head, Ashley sighed. “I just—I can’t, I dunno why.” That was a lie, Ashley knew why.

“I know why,” Diana answered, standing again and crossing the room to lean against the wall next to Ashley. “It’s cause you’ve got some big dumb fuckin hero complex for some reason. Maybe also a propensity to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Not sure why that’s the case, but it is. And if you’re going in there, well, you’re gonna need someone who can pull your ass out of the fire if shit goes sideways.”

“I can take care of myself, Diana.” Ashley pretended she wasn’t glowing inside for some reason at the thought that Diana actually cared.

Diana sank to the floor, still leaning into the wall. “Well, let’s hope you don’t need to.”

At that, Ashley remembered her other plan. “Right, about that,” she began, reaching into her bag. “You promise to be cool about this, right?”

“Can’t really promise if I don’t know what it is, but I’ll do my best,” Diana answered, clearly suspicious.

“That’s good enough for me, I guess.” Gripping the smooth leather handle of her contingency plan, Ashley withdrew the gun, grippied it by the barrel, and thrust it handle first toward Diana.

After a light chuckle, and a shake of her head, Diana took the gun in her hand, and popped open the cylinder, examining each chamber in turn. Without a doubt, Diana had definitely used one of those before. Satisfied, she gave the chamber a quick whirl, popped it back in place, then placed the gun on the floor. Keeping her eyes fixed on the revolver, she laughed again. Louder this time, and flicked the handle, watching it spin in place. When it came to a rest, barrel pointing toward the door, Diana hugged her knees to her chest, and rested against the wall as she glanced up toward Ashley. She made a quick, open palmed gesture to the gun, and bounced her eyebrows. “You just have one of these, huh? You have a gun on a cruise ship? And ketamine? So are you like a crime boss, a fed, both?”

Tracing her finger in a thoughtful arc across Diana’s desk, Ashley gave the only answer she could. “When I was in my senior year of college, my boyfriend took me on a trip with his frat buddies and their girlfriends. Turns out one of them was big into occult shit and all the guys were gonna make deals with demons or whatever. It didn’t work out. Everyone but me got killed or possessed. I fought my way out. Lost my arm, too, but I got a new one. I came into some money after that, and spent pretty much all of it on guns, information, connections, and things that can help me get guns into places that don’t allow guns, ‘cause it’ll be a cold day in Hell when I get caught with my pants down. Mainly ‘cause when I get there I’m killing whoever is in charge and turning down the thermostat.”

“So you heard me do my thing and wanted to one up me, is that it?” Diana asked, laughing to herself.

“With any luck you’ll live your whole life fortunate enough to not believe me.” It was a sad sort of sentiment. Ashley wanted to believe Diana, wanted to believe there were other people who could understand what she’d been through, but even if Diana wasn’t lying, her past was downright mundane compared to Ashley’s.

“Who says I don’t believe you?” Diana asked. She looked up at Ashley, and gave what might have been one of the few genuine smiles Ashley had ever seen cross her big stupid lips. Ashley decided it would be best not to think about how it felt to look at that smile.

Rising to her feet, Diana returned to her bed, then scooped a laptop from underneath, opened it, and pulled up a chair beside Ashley. She logged in, and brought up her browser, which was opened to an image displaying the interior of an opulent foyer. “If we’re showing our hand here, I did a bit of research while you were away,” Diana explained. “This is a virtual tour of the Cerulean Lounge. There’s also a floor plan. It seems likely this isn’t accurate down to the last detail, but I imagine it’s close.” Scrolling through the page, Diana began clicking through various images of the lounge’s interior. “It looks to me like the main gathering place is probably here: at the far end of the room, closer to the front end of the ship.”

“You mean the bow?” Ashley offered.

“No,” Diana answered. “There’s doors out into the hallway in each of the corners, so we have plenty of exits. The suites themselves are above the lounge, and connected to them via one contiguous balcony running the perimeter of the room. That balcony can be accessed by these two spiral staircases near the left and right walls.  The pool and jacuzzis are toward the back of the room, I’d rather we steer clear of that, it’s not going to do us any favors besides restrict our movement. On either side of the front end of the room, near that gathering spot I mentioned, there are two adjoining rooms. On the right side, we have a fully stocked kitchen. If we need to roofie them that might be a good place to do it. There are also gonna be some knives in there, so if things go bad we should try to keep them away from those, and, if need be, we can maybe use them ourselves.

“The left adjoining room is a rec room. At the front end of the rec room, basically adjacent to that gathering spot in the main room, is a fully stocked and—sometimes—staffed bar. I talked to that bartender I keep running into, he said they keep the highest proof drinks under the bar, so if we trust his memory—big if—that’s where we should look if we need any um… incendiaries. There’s also a pool table. I can speak from experience that in a pinch skewering someone with a broken cue is pretty effective. Also um, doming someone with the balls is pretty nasty too. Last big thing: there’s also an outdoor balcony connected to the rec room. It’s overlooking one of the upper decks two stories down. From what I can see the railings are pretty sturdy. I’m gonna see if I can find a rope somewhere, and if we have the opportunity, we should tie it to one of them—just in case we have no other way out. If, by any chance, they have guns of their own, the two best options for cover are probably behind the bar, or behind the kitchen countertop island. Don’t jump in the pool to avoid bullets. Trust me: it doesn’t work. The best sight lines in the room are probably going to be from the upper balcony, the outdoor balcony, or from the edge of the pool.” Apparently finished, Diana took a deep breath, and leaned back. “Any questions?”

“Did I even need to give you the gun?” Ashley quipped.

“Well, it’s like you said. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I get caught with my pants down.” Diana plucked the snub-nose off the floor, and tucked it into her purse. Then, with the same casual air, she unlocked her phone, pulled up the ship’s dedicated messaging app—the only way to text anyone on board without shelling out extra cash—and gave Laura the go ahead.