She stayed away from him as much as she could. He organized excellent shows, hired great bands for the various dining spots and bars—and was a complete jerk. He didn’t seem capable of compliments.
“Guitar Hero Boys, you’re due on the promenade in fifteen minutes. You should be getting in place.”
The foursome who made up the group rose and marched out. Alexi heard one mutter as he passed her. “Are you set up? Yes. Ready to go? Yes. Are you an asshole, Brad? Yes!”
She tried not to smile. And when the band had gone by, she left, too, wishing them all well—those who were new and those who’d returned to the Destiny or had switched from other ships.
In her cabin, Alexi sank down on the bed and closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep. She found herself thinking about Blake and Minnie.
Their deaths had been tragic. Minnie, a star of stage and screen, had fallen in love with Blake when he’d played Romeo to her Juliet in a touring company in the thirties. The fact that she was taking the Destiny for a transatlantic voyage had been huge news at the time; reporters and fans alike had booked onto the voyage.
The fans had included a deranged former lover, convinced that if he removed Blake from the picture, he would have his Minnie back.
Minnie had been singing an impromptu number in the piano bar. Also known as the Algiers Saloon, it was located exactly where it was now. Her previous lover, Allan Snow, had leaped to his feet after one of her numbers and declared his devotion. Minnie had claimed her eternal devotion, as well—to Blake.
So Allan Snow had pulled out a gun and shot Blake, who’d jumped in front of Minnie to be her protector. Then he’d shot Minnie and himself.
The ghost of Allan Snow didn’t seem to be aboard. Minnie told Alexi that she’d never seen him and she’d figured that God had been good, allowing her and Blake a different way to be together. She’d smiled and said their love was eternal.
Alexi figured it was natural that they’d haunt the piano bar.
She turned and hugged her pillow. Since Zach had been in the service and deployed overseas, they’d talked about the possibility of his death. She’d promised that if it happened, she’d always remember him—and she’d go on with her life, be happy.
She wasn’t suicidal, never had been. She was willing to find a new purpose, a new role, a new way of being. Just as she’d promised. Happy was more difficult.
What worried her now was the fact that he was slipping away. She thought about him often, with love. Sometimes she was happy now. She laughed at the antics of passengers and enjoyed meeting them. She’d even roamed various ports with friends she made aboard. She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty, and yet she did.
She reached into the gloomy air of her cabin, as if she could touch him.
“I just wish I could’ve said goodbye,” she murmured aloud.
Then she was startled out of her reflections when it seemed that something slammed against her door.
She jumped up and hurried to open it.
A man stood there, tall, dark-haired and...bizarre.
He was wearing a gray sweatshirt and blue jeans and strange prosthetic makeup. The man who’d raced through the piano bar!
He looked at her with beseeching eyes.
“I must speak with you. I must!” he said.
She frowned. Was he new in the entertainment department?
There was a commotion at the aft end of the hallway, and Alexi peered in that direction.
More men were coming along the hallway, men she’d never seen down in the entertainment area before, but they were accompanied by Nolan Perkins, one of the stewards.
“Sir,” she began, turning back to the man who had knocked at her door.
He was gone. She thought she saw him disappear around a corner that led to midship. She looked in the other direction.
“Hey, Alexi,” Nolan said.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m just showing these gentlemen the ship,” Nolan said. He lowered his voice. “They’re bigwigs with Celtic American,” he told her, then cleared his throat. “Alexi Cromwell, meet Jackson Crow and Jude McCoy.”
“How do you do?” the first man said, smiling as he reached for her hand. He was tall, good-looking and obviously had Native American ancestry. His dark hair and light eyes made for a striking contrast.
“Ms. Cromwell,” said the other. He was equally tall, broad-shouldered, sandy-haired. His eyes were unusual—blue and green with flecks of brown. His features were clean-cut, his jaw hard and square. Very attractive, in a rugged, austere manner.
He looked at her oddly.
As if he knew her? Or thought he did?
Or worse—thought she was guilty of something!
Both men wore tailored shirts and pants, not the usual tourist apparel. But then, they weren’t tourists. They were bigwigs with Celtic American.
“Nice to meet you,” Alexi said.
“Have you seen a man?” Nolan asked her.
That made her laugh. “A man? Nolan, I’ve seen hundreds of men. It’s a cruise ship.”