Page 32 of Ship Happens
“Whatever game you’re playing, you can’t win,” I say. “Do you know who my mother is? What sort of power she wields?”
Jim offers a pinched smile as he sits on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid touching my legs. His hands clasp in his lap, and he stares at the wall. “I know of your mother, yes. I know that she’s a decorated veteran in her field of study. The better question would be, doyouknow who your mother is?”
I don’t dignify his stupidity with a response. Of course I know who the fuck my mother is. I’ve known her for my entire existence.
“What about your father?” Jim continues. “What do you know of him?”
“Seems like you have more answers than I do. Why don’t you tell me?”
His smile strengthens now. “Oh, I plan to. By the end of this cruise, you’ll have answers to questions you never thought to ask.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. It’s comical that he believes I give two fucks about whatever he knows. Still, I’ll play along for a little longer. “And what questions would those be?”
“It’s not that simple, Frankie. If you want something from me, you’ll have to give me something in return.”
“Money won’t do you any good from behind prison walls, Madigan. Whatever you want from me, you won’t be free long enough to enjoy it.”
“Money? You think I want money?” His head tips back as he laughs. “Child, money is meaningless to me. I’m at the age where I’ve grown bored with money and what it brings.”
“Is that why you kill? Boredom?”
“My reasons are my reasons. If that’s the question you want answered, I’ll grant you that. I’ll even allow you to place me in handcuffs and lead me off the boat on the final day.”
“And what do you want in exchange?”
He spreads his hands and looks at me. “It’s quite simple, really. Just play my game. For the rest of the cruise, pretend you’re a Sinner. Participate in the games, get to know your fellow participants, and at the end of the cruise, you can have me.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
I take a moment to consider his proposition. It would be stupid to deny him, but it might also be stupid to accept his offer. After all, serial killers aren’t exactly known for their honesty. Their notoriety stems from their uncanny prowess in the art of lies and manipulation. Agreeing to his plan might mean walking right into the gaping maw of a hungry beast.
But my intuition says he’s telling the truth.
“Is my safety guaranteed? Meaning, if someone learns my identity, will you permit them to kill me? Better yet, let’s make agents off-limits entirely.”
Jim shakes his head. “We both know I can’t give you the latter, but you will be safe as long as you play by the rules and listen to your handler.”
My handler. Since Maverick chose to push me off on someone else, I wonder who that will be. And I wonder if the devil I know might be better than the devil I don’t know.
Beneath the blanket, my left foot begins to tingle. I’m sitting with my legs crossed beneath me, tailor fashion, and the limb has fallen asleep. I straighten my legs while keeping the blanket over my chest.
Buzz. . .buzz. . .buzz, buzz, buzz.
Even if Jim doesn’t hear the toy currently assaulting my poor labia, he has to feel it. I feel it in my fucking teeth. My thighs must have put enough pressure on the button to turn on the toy, and now I’m being forced to masturbate against my will.
Jim’s eyebrows pull together, and he looks around. “Do you have phone signal in here? The ship has no Wi-Fi, so I don’t know how you’re receiving a call right now. I’m afraid you’ll have to hand over your phone and anything that’s giving you a signal.”
I wish it was my fucking phone. I’d hand over everything, including my gun and badge, if it would just end this embarrassing moment birthed from the womb of my most vivid nightmares. Clearing my throat, I attempt to shut off the toy by moving my thighs again, but that only changes the pattern. Instead of morse code, the fucking thing is bellowing a low, steady bass note.
It’s unmistakable now.
Jim’s cheeks blaze red, and he stands from the bed. “It appears I’ve intruded on a private moment. My apologies. If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll let you...get back to it.”
“No, wait,” I say through clenched teeth. I can’t help it. I’m about three seconds from crying out in ecstasy as Jim looks on, mortified. Same, buddy.
I cram my hand into my shorts and search for the button, much to Jim’s ever-increasing discomfort. And mine. From his angle, it probably looks like I’m trying to finish the job while he’s standing there. My nervous whimpers must sound like restrained passion to his reddening ears.
