I Saw Him Standing There (Oceanic Dreams #1) Page 2

  My smile faded completely when I noticed him checking tickets.

  “I’m guessing Mr. Feeney is a ferret?” he asked, handing the tickets back to the boy’s parents but looking past them at me.

  “I think you guess right.” I glanced at the little boy who nodded excitedly. “I’m sure Mr. Feeney wants to be with you, but do you really think he would enjoy being on a boat? What if he gets seasick?”

  Huge blue eyes stared at me. “Do you think I’ll get seasick?”

  “Do you like water?”

  “I love it. I’m a good swimmer too. I’ve already passed level seven and that’s the one where you learn to dive. I want to dive off the back of the ship!”

  “I don’t think you should do that,” I said automatically, not needing to see the fear in the mother’s eyes. “Definitely don’t do that. But I bet there are a couple of pools on board that you can practice your dives in.”

  “Cool!”

  “Ready to board, Sam?” the mother asked before turning to me. “Thank—are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, smoothing out my grimace. Sam was my little brother’s name. “Have a good trip.”

  “I’ll find you on the boat,” Sam promised as his mother pulled him away.

  “You can show me your diving,” I called after him, giving myself a moment before I turned back to the ship’s officer. I arranged my face in a suitable Petra expression. “Hello.”

  His smile was wide and friendly but it was the way his blue eyes looked at me that made my heart skip a beat. “Do you have kids?”

  “Do I look like I have kids?” I fake a laugh as I handed him Petra’s—my—passport and tickets in the smooth leather folder. His fingers brushed mine with a warning tingle.

  “Never can tell. So who do we have here?” As he scanned the tickets, he gave me another grin. “You should have been here earlier to board with the other VIPs. It would have been quicker.”

  “But then I wouldn’t have heard about Mr. Feeney. Please don’t look too closely at the passport,” I added quickly.

  “Bad picture?” He squinted at it, then up at me.

  I smiled ruefully. “The opposite. I took the picture just before I went to this big gala, so hair done, make-up perfect.” I gave a roll of my eyes. “My girl was so slow, and it took so long with every fake eyelash having to be put on individually. Plus, I’ve cut my hair since then and stopped straightening it.”

  “It’s a good picture,” he said, still studying it. “But it is a little different.”

  “A lot different,” I laughed, pushing my curly hair out of my eyes. Did it seem like I was holding my breath? Counting the seconds until he decided I passed the test?

  I glanced around as he continued to study the passport. A security guard was escorting a man past the line. I gave the man a double take. “Oh my god!”

  He looked up. “Is there a problem?”

  “No! Yes! That’s Evan Parker!” When he frowned, I leaned closer. “Evan Parker? The singer? You know, ‘Nothing Like This’? It’s all over the radio!”

  “Is that really him?” He looked over his shoulder and I fought the urge to make a run for it.

  I kept my voice low so Evan wouldn’t hear me. Not only would it be super embarrassing to be caught fangirling the singer, but I’ve met him on more than one occasion and he might recognize me. He was providing a good distraction, but I didn’t want to push my luck.

  “Wow.” He turned back to me, trying to hide the impressed expression on his face. “I guess he’s on board.”

  “Isn’t that exciting?”

  He handed the passport back to me and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, but as staff, we’re not supposed to make a big deal out of them. They’re passengers too, wanting to have a good time.”

  “I’ll remember that if I bump into him.” Again, something I will avoid at all costs.

  “Justin Sheehan was on board last year,” he admitted in a low voice. “I met him a few times. That was cool.”

  “I bet.” I hiked my bag over my arm. “I guess I’ll be going then.”

  “Wait.” To my horror, he grabbed the passport back and took another look at it, then at me before handing it back. “Have a good trip,” he said casually. “Petra.”

  The name sounded foreign to my ears. “I will. Thank you…” I peered at his nametag. “Will McKay. Nice to meet you.”

  Will chuckled. “I’m only a lowly assistant cruise director.”

  “You seem to be a doing a fine job.” I forgot all about Petra and gave him a wide Siggy smile.

  He held my smile for a beat, another one until he wrenched his gaze to the next passenger in line.

  Despite everything that had brought me here, as I boarded the Oceanic Aphrodite, something inside me woke up and stretched.

  This was going to be a problem.

  Chapter Three

  About an hour later, I stood in the middle of my cabin.

  “Good job, Petra,” I murmured as I surveyed the one-bedroom suite with the extra large balcony. It was on the stern of the ship, which my concierge told me, was a special experience.

  Yes, Petra had booked a cabin with concierge service.

  “Once you have an aft-balconied cabin, you’ll never go back,” my concierge Astrid said, her respectful manner diminished by the twinkle in her eye. “The only disadvantage you have to remember is that people up top like to look over the edge at times. And because your balcony is one of the larger ones, I’d suggest no topless sunbathing unless you want an audience.”

  “I hadn’t really planned on it but thanks for the advice.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut behind her. This wasn’t what I had planned when I jumped out the window earlier, but it might work. Even if Eduardo found me, what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like I’d actually done anything illegal, so the police wouldn’t be involved.

  I glanced down at Petra’s passport still in my hand. Using it might be a little illegal, but she’d given me permission. The first thing I had to do was to find the room safe and lock up the passport. It wouldn’t be good to lose it.

  I knew nothing about the woman who gifted me this trip, this escape. She was like some sort of fairy godmother, only I doubted a fairy godmother would wield such an acid tongue.

  As I heaved the carryon bag onto the bed to join my camera, I wondered why Petra booked a cabin this big, this luxurious just for her.

  Was someone else staying with her?

  No—I rechecked the ticket. Single room and she paid extra for it. But was she travelling alone? Did she have friends on board? Friends who would expect to meet up with her? Who might be worried if she didn’t show up, and contact someone on the ship, who will tell them, yes, Petra Van Brereton did indeed come aboard?

  I should have gotten more information. I should have prepared better.

  There was nothing I could do about that now. I began to poke around the cabin, opening drawers and doors. There was a good-sized washroom, a bedroom with a king-sized bed tempting me with every passing moment, and big windows that would give me a beautiful view of the ocean. Right now, I could see the skyline of downtown Miami. The balcony was large enough for a small gathering and since it overlooked the pier, I resisted the urge to stand outside. There’d be time enough for that later. I couldn’t wait to get out there with my camera.

  There was a sitting room, with a fully stocked mini-fridge, a beautiful fruit basket on the table as well as a bottle of champagne.

  I bet they put chocolates on the pillows, as well as the standard towel animals.

  I couldn’t stop smiling. This might actually work.

  And then I heard the commotion in the hallway. Doors banging, shouting, all coming closer to my room on the corner.

  He found me.

  I rushed to the door and peered through the peephole, waiting with bated breath for Eduardo to reach my door, trying frantically to come up with a plan to get out of this. There was no way I c
ould jump out of the window this time.

  Someone was laughing in the hall.

  Fists pounded on my door. “Please let me in!”

  I peeked through the tiny hole.

  It wasn’t Eduardo.

  There was a shirtless man standing there before my door, tall and dark haired with a worried expression on his face.

  I took a chance that he hadn’t been sent by Eduardo and opened the door in time to see him sprint down the hall.

  Naked.

  He was completely naked and definitely not one of Eduardo’s henchmen. ‘You looking for someone?” I called after him, giddy with relief that he wasn’t looking for me.

  Nice butt.

  He whirled around at the sound of my voice, his hands locked in front of him, but not doing a very good job of covering himself.

  “Oh, thank god! You’re an angel.” I kept my eyes on his face as he ran toward me. “No one will let me in.”

  “Because you’re naked?”

  “They think it’s funny. They pushed me out when I was changing,” he said in an overloud voice, obviously speaking to the unseen pranksters. I heard laughter around the corner. “Can I have a towel?” His hazel eyes had such a desperate quality that I took pity on him.

  I also laughed at him. “Sure.” I hold the door open for him to dart inside and reward myself for my Good Samaritan deed with a covert glance at his backside. “Maybe you should have one handy next time you decide to get naked.” I reached into the washroom for one of the thick towels and handed it to him, this time keeping my eyes on his face.

  “Thank you,” he said gratefully, wrapping the towel around his waist. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I’m always happy to give assistance to naked men.”

  “Does that happen often?” he asked with a grin.

  “No, thank goodness.”

  He had a very nice smile. “I’d better go and see if they’ll let me back in the room. Thanks again.” He backed away, still holding my gaze. “You going to that party tonight?”

  “I didn’t know there was a party.”

  “There’s always a party. Lido deck, ten pm. See you there?”

  “Only if you put some clothes on.” I opened the door, startling a group in the hall with amazed expressions on their faces. I gave him a push into the hall before giving the group my best Petra look and flash a satisfied smile. “He was magnificent,” I said, a la Kelly McGillis in Top Gun.

  After Naked Man left, hopefully, to find clothes, I grabbed my camera and set out to explore the ship. Heading up another floor brought me to the pool deck.

  I shaded my eyes, regretting not grabbing my sunglasses. But I held my camera up to my eyes and took a few shots. The colours, the action—kids in constant motion in the pool, splashing and laughing. A waterslide snaked its way down the side of the ship stack and every few moments, deposited a laughing, screaming person into the water.

  Not just kids, either.

  For a moment I was tempted to rush back to my cabin and change into my bathing suit. Petra’s bathing suit. I snapped more pictures and moved on.

  There was a party taking place near the end of the ship and as I moved closer I noticed the bride in the white dress. Instinctively, I raised the camera. She was beautiful with dark hair shining in the sunlight and smiling at her groom.

  She looked so happy.

  My finger stilled and I lowered the camera without taking the picture.

  The ship’s horn blew loud and long, signalling our departure. A group of laughing girls rushed by towards the end of the boat. I followed them as they joined a large group of waving passengers standing at the rail. The noise was deafening, but the happiness was contagious. I held up my camera and snapped pictures of the group, in high spirits to be leaving Florida behind.

  I should be happy too, but I was more relieved than anything. Soon, Miami would be behind us, along with Eduardo.

  I aimed the camera at the smaller group on the dock frantically waving. Families saying goodbye to their loved ones—

  No.

  I lowered the camera for an instant and then raised it again like a shield.

  Eduardo was standing on the dock. And Andy was right beside him.

  I backed away slowly as to not call attention to myself and more passengers took my spot by the railing, blocking my view.

  Numb with shock, I followed a crowd of chattering twentysomethings. My cabin was located at the stern and even though I knew deep down it was safe, I wanted to stay as far away from that side of the ship until the dock, the city and land itself vanished from sight.

  I found myself on Deck 6, overlooking the atrium. I caught my breath as I stared below. Once upon a time, I’d been used to luxury and the finer things in life, but the Oceanic Aphrodite was something else.

  I wanted to see everything at once. I craned my neck to see the levels stacked above me, some with smiling faces looking down. A massive chandelier, almost as big as the one in the Chandelier Bar in Las Vegas, glittered in the sunlight.

  Below, a group of staff formed a half circle before a sweeping double stairway, answering questions and directing the passengers. Miles of marble floor was filled with groups of friends and families, all chattering happily, obviously excited to be taking the trip. Shops and restaurants outlined the space, colourful and lively as people explored every nook and cranny of their floating paradise.

  A statue of Aphrodite towered over the space, as alone as I was.

  The horn blared again and I felt the vibrations of the engines change as the ship raised anchor.

  I was really doing this.

  A movement from the lounge below caught my eye. It was Will from boarding, waving with a huge smile on his face.

  I raised my camera and took his picture.

  Chapter Four

  As we left Miami behind us, I spent a few hours exploring with my camera.

  The ship was filled with shiny, happy people; even those green in the face and leaning over the railing were cheerful. Since I’d been living in Miami, I’d noticed Florida had an abundance of happy people, but I thought it was the proximity to Walt Disney World. There was nothing in life that a dose of Mickey Mouse couldn’t fix.

  But here, with no mouse ears in sight, everyone on board seemed to be having a blast.

  I noticed the prevalence of younger passengers. I passed groups that were my age—midtwenty—or slightly over. I passed three games of pickup beer pong. Every bar had a line-up, and there was quite a bit of horseplay around the pools. I made a mental note to look up the Oceanic Aphrodite when I got back to my room to find out if it was some kind of spring break party boat.

  But I had no desire to return to my room.

  There were maps and directions posted everywhere, which was a good thing because the boat was huge. When I was nine, my parents booked us on a cruise to celebrate my grandmother’s eightieth birthday. The only things I remembered about it was that my mother was terrified I would get lost and refused to let me out of her sight for the first three days, that I could eat ice cream any time of the day, and that my grandfather spent half of the trip sick in his room.

  I seemed to recall my grandmother having more fun without him.

  As I stepped out onto Deck 14, another memory hit me, that of my little brother Sam and my father missing the tender back to the ship when we went ashore in St. Lucia.

  That was a different ship, a different time, because my father had chartered a helicopter to bring them back to the ship, to Sam’s delight.

  I stopped by the boutiques and wandered through the casino. I found the library and curled up with the latest edition of People Like Us magazine. I checked out the disco and the lounge, and the six restaurants, becoming hungrier with each menu I looked at.

  I had no idea what Petra signed up for, whether it was assigned seating in the dining room or one of the more casual, pick-your-own places. With my luck, she probably had a standing invitation to the captain’s table. I decided to mi
ss dinner until I had more information.

  Missing dinner didn’t mean I wouldn’t eat. I stopped for ice cream. I took a mojito and a plate of nachos to a lounge chair on the lido deck and sat in the sun, out of reach of the pool and people watched.

  I took pictures of everything.

  The light was beautiful, especially when the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The waves danced along the boat, the calls of the seagulls grew fainter the farther we pushed away from Miami.

  This might work.

  Petra got me away from Eduardo’s wrath, but so far there was no out-of-the-frying-pan, into-the-fire thing happening which had been a bit of a trend for me.

  I had come to Miami three and a half years ago, after trying to lose myself first in New York and then Atlanta. Both places had too many acquaintances who knew my face and were more than ready to ask about things I didn’t want to talk about. Miami was better because as long as I stayed away from South Beach, it was easy to blend in.

  I stayed with Andy for six weeks before I met Eduardo and he took me under his wing. I told him nothing about my life, not even my real name. I was Siggy Smith. Seraphina Park-Smith was tucked away, not to be disturbed.

  It was fun at first as Eduardo helped bring my confidence back as he taught me how to survive on the streets. It wasn’t until it was too late that I realized he was moulding me into a criminal, focusing on petty crimes until he felt I was ready for something bigger.

  Eduardo taught me how to be a con artist.

  I wasn’t a very good one. The first time I managed to scam a very sweet man out of his paycheque. I then left an envelope in his door with the exact amount I’d taken. The time after that, I convinced a naïve eighteen-year-old to pay an exorbitant amount of money for headshots for a modelling career. I actually submitted her picture and got her a job in a campaign for Gap. The time after that—

  My moral compass didn’t like me being a con artist.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell Eduardo how I felt because by then he no longer saw me as a pet project but as a source of income. I’d been planning on leaving Miami for months before he came up with the plan to get his hands on the bearer bonds. Since then, as if he knew of my plans, he had people watch me.