Page 38 of Ship Happens
He repeats himself, but I still don’t hear him. Not that it matters.
Maverick comes up behind me and dumps a bucket of guts into the water. Realizing what’s about to happen, the man spins onto his stomach and tries to kick away from the chum.
It’s too late. There is no soundtrack to play a steady two-note theme, and the telltale fin never breaks the water, but when the surface tension explodes in a spray of silver and white, we all know what happened. The man’s brief scream disappears below the water, followed by the flood of a sickening shade of red.
I turn to Maverick and shrug. “He was asking for it, right? I mean, he went into the water with sharks, so he must have wanted to be eaten. Isn’t that the logic?”
For the first time since I forced him to come in his pants, he smiles.
“Damn,” Eve says as she hurries to peer over the side of the boat. “Fucking cold, Frankie. I love it! You pushed him right over the edge.”
I don’t correct her. Neither does Maverick.
“I guess it doesn’t matter that we lost one, since Grim and Rosie won’t be diving. We only needed three.” Eve looks back at the remaining Cattle.
Maverick winces and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah...about that. I kind of promised one of them that they’d get to live. I can’t go back on it now.”
“Well, then I guess you guys won’t be cage diving.” Eve turns to me. “Sorry, honey, but if you want to saddle yourself with Dudley Do-Right, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
I think I’m okay with that. And I think I’m starting to see Maverick—and his hobby—in a new light.
Chapter Seventeen
Maverick
After our eventful cage-diving outing, we were too exhausted for dinner, so we went back to the room and crashed. We woke up this morning, had breakfast together in the dining hall, then separated for lunch. She had plans to eat with Eve and the girls, and we would meet up when they finished.
So please tell me why I walked into the atrium and spotted Frankie and Ice Pick as they sashayed toward one of the lounges? And day three had started out so well.
I hurry to catch up to them before Ice Pick spills too many beans. He’s denser than fruitcake, so I’m not necessarily concerned that he’ll discover Frankie’s secret, but he’s bound to reveal all of ours. I catch them just before they enter the lounge.
“What are...” I gulp air. The mad race down the flight of stairs left me winded. “What are you two...up to?”
Frankie slides her arm from the crook of Ice Pick’s elbow, and my blood pressure lowers slightly. “As the girls and I were finishing lunch, Ice Pig showed up and asked if we’d like to go toa speed dating event with the”—she glances around—“Normies. The girls are all in relationships, so they declined, but I’m free as a bird and figured it might be fun.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” My gaze slides from Frankie to Ice Pick, then back to Frankie. “I mean, the Normies are...and we are... You get what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Frankie cocks her head. “No. That would require you to use words.”
Ice Pick chuckles beside her, and what a team these assholes make as they turn and start into the lounge.
I reach out and grip Frankie’s arm, stopping them from entering. “Do I really need to explain why it’s a bad idea to mingle with the Normies? Jim intended for us to do just that, but I’d prefer to stick to our own.”
“Don’t be a killjoy, Maverick.” Frankie rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but act your fucking age. Live a little. Throw caution to the wind and give a middle finger to the consequences. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, yeah?”
I don’t know how I feel about this new version of Frankie. The experience last night seemed to unlock some unhinged part of her, and I think I’d like to shove it back in its box now. I wanted her to loosen up, not completely come undone.
But it doesn’t matter what I think, because she wrinkles her nose in a snarky smile before turning back to the lounge and stepping inside. Speed dating isn’t my idea of an afternoon well spent, but if I want to keep an eye on Frankie, I guess this is what we’re doing.
I catch up with them at a table lined with pens and paper name tags. Ice Pick scrawls his name on a tag and slaps it on his chest. Only then do I realize that he’s gone with his government name, which is...
“Chad Smith?” My eyebrows rise up my forehead. “I never really pictured you with a name at all, but Chad Smith?”
He pulls me aside as Frankie searches for a working pen. “I didn’t want to write Ice Pick and make the girl feel bad for calling me the wrong name. She seems nice, and I don’t want to embarrass her.”
“So you made up a name?”
His mustache twitches as his lips curve into a smile. “Nope, that’s my name. It’s a family name, you see, passed down through the generations. My great-great-great grandaddy, Chad Smith, was pretty famous. If you’re wondering if that’s who I’m named after, it sure is!” His grin widens as if he’s just told me a sneaky secret.
