Page 45 of The Situation Ship
Poppy inched away. She could smell the whisky on his breath.
“Who told you she was single?” Isaiah pulled her towards him, his arm possessively wrapped around her waist. She could feel his heart pounding against her back. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed by his possessiveness or turned on.
Scott’s smile became strained. “My mistake– I was misinformed.” He raised his hands in defeat. “Nice to see you again, Poppy.”
“Nice to meet you; I hope your next film does better than the last,” Isaiah said. Poppy’s eyes widened.Who knew he could be so petty?
“It’s a pleasure. I hope you both enjoy the rest of your trip.” Scott gritted his teeth and returned to his friends without a second glance.
“Sorry,” Isaiah said, releasing his grip once Scott was out of sight. “I didn’t mean to overstep with your friend.” He didn’t sound particularly sorry at all.
“Please don’t apologise. I didn’t want him pawing at me.”
“Instead, you had me pawing at you,” Isaiah said wryly. “He just wasn’t taking the hint to back off.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Poppy teased, running her hand down his chest.
Isaiah took her hand as it reached his heart. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his gaze darkening and his grip on her tightening.
Poppy forgot they were in public for a moment, but the sound of clinking glasses demanded their attention. Captain Roberts stood at the closed doors to the theatre, ready to address the guests.
“My honoured guests, thank you for joining me this evening. We pray to Poseidon for a safe trip and calm seas. As our special guests, you will be the first to watch tonight’s performance. I hope this is a night you won’t soon forget.” She raised her glass, and the other guests cheered in response.
They took their seats in the red velvet chairs, though Poppy noted that the captain didn’t – a staff member approached her, and she quickly slipped away. Poppy wondered if something had happened, but was distracted by the round of applause as the curtain rose.
The elaborate set, reminiscent of ancient Greek architecture with its large columns, lush drapery and rich colours, enveloped the audience, and the dancers in their flowing robes and embellished jewellery led the entrance of the singers. It was nice to be in the audience instead of on stage for once. When the singers’ powerful voices echoed throughout the theatre, filling Poppy’s chest with the very essence of human emotion, she closed her eyes and let the music and language penetrate her soul. She couldn’t help but think how she would never be able to sing like that. The realisation of her own limitations and the beauty of the performance stirred a deep, bittersweet emotion within her.
As the antagonist and protagonist came to blows, the harmonies of the chorus and the booming orchestra added an overwhelming tension to the atmosphere. Poppy hadn’t realised she was crying. She felt a surge of emotional vulnerability, a mix of fear and confusion, that she couldn’t shake off. It was as though everything she had been keeping buried was starting to rise to the surface. Her heart began to hammer, and the thought of staying stuck in her seat for another hour made her skin crawl.
Isaiah was completely engrossed in the clash of good and evil, of love and loss, as the protagonist agonised over her fallenlover. She was about to lean over and tell him to breathe when, in the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Joshua.
What the hell?
She focused her eyes to try to make out the face of the man watching her from the shadow of the tiered balcony above them. It had to be a trick of the light, or the theme of the tragedy messing with her mind. Surely it couldn’t be him.
She focused her attention back on the stage, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were penetrating the back of her head. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, needing to be sure, but found the seat empty. A gleam of light from the theatre door opening and closing caught her eye.
Before she could think better of it, Poppy got out of her seat, desperately needing to know if Joshua was lurking on board or if her mind was playing tricks on her. If he was here, he could have been the one Calliope was talking to on the tape. Hopefully, the rest of the guests would be too enamoured with the performance to notice her hurrying up the aisle and out the doors to the foyer.
As Poppy rushedinto the foyer, the bartender behind the bar looked up.
“Are you doing alright, Ms. Roe?” he inquired warmly, setting aside the glass he was cleaning. “Can I get you something?”
Poppy hurried toward him, desperate for answers. “Did a man come out before me? He has highlighted blonde hair, about 5’11?” she asked, her heart racing.
The bartender shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone like that come through since the performance began. The usherscome and go, but no guests that I noticed. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Are you certain?” she pressed. “I really thought I saw him.”
“Honestly, I didn’t see anyone fitting that description,” he reassured her. “Would you like me to call someone?”
“No, I’m fine! Just a glass of water, please,” Poppy said, settling into a chair and trying to regain her composure. She couldn’t ask for help finding someone who had never boarded the ship.
“The opera can trigger some intense emotions. Take a few deep breaths,” the bartender said, handing her the glass of water.
“Thank you – sorry for disturbing you. I just got a bit overwhelmed,” she said, not liking to appear so vulnerable.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you some space,” he said thoughtfully, picking up a crate and disappearing behind a lush floral wall she hadn’t noticed concealed a passageway.
