Jukebox Heroes Box Set

Chapter One

People-watching has always been my favorite spectator sport, and the Lido deck of the cruise ship was a prime spot for it. I sipped my strawberry daiquiri and peeked over the top of my cheap shades to scan the other passengers on deck. There were all types of people on board—children and AARP members, po’ folk and faux aristocrats, fat and thin, short and tall, black, white, Latino, Asian…you name it. None of them were doing anything particularly noteworthy, but it didn’t make watching them any less interesting.

My passion for people-watching is rivaled only by my enthusiasm for coffee and chocolate. Most people don’t get it. But my best friend, Elizabeth, shares my passion, and we can often sit for a long time observing those around us, breaking the comfortable silence now and again to share casual observations. Elizabeth and I are also passionate about travel and the ocean. Combine those three things, and it’s pretty close to our idea of heaven. That’s how we came to be on a cruise ship headed for the Caribbean, stress and work and school forgotten.

A glint of red shining from other-wise dark hair caught my eye, and I studied the guy attached to it. He was okay, if you liked the frat boy type. Good eye candy, even if I would never, ever, want to date him. I watched him and his friends for a while, until Elizabeth nudged me with her glass.

What? I asked, wiping condensation off my arm with a little frown.

Two o’clock, she said. Check out the shirt.

I looked in the direction she’d indicated and searched for the shirt in question. The blue one?

No. White one. With guitars on it. She reached over and pushed against my jaw, turning my head back to the left a bit. That one.

Nice. I took a closer look at the shirt—not hard to do since the guy wearing it was only a few feet away. The graphic on the t-shirt consisted of two crossed guitars and a couple of old-school microphones with writing across the top and bottom and what looked like lettering down the middle. I turned my head sideways and sure enough, the design in the middle of the shirt was a word: breathe.

Look at it the other way, Elizabeth told me.

I tilted my head the other direction, like she was doing, and the word in the middle now read music.

I found myself smiling. Music and breathe—oh yeah, I could get behind that. There’d been times—more than I wanted to count—when music had been the one thing that kept me sane, the one thing that kept me breathing.

It’s an ambigram, Elizabeth said, drawing me out of my musings.

Leave it to my evil twin to know something random like that. Wasn’t your cousin talking about getting a tattoo like that?

Yeah, no. Not exactly. He showed us the design, but he wasn’t the one who wanted it. It was his friend. The weird one, she answered, nursing her pina colada as she leaned back in her chaise.

Which weird one?

Pink Hair Guy.

Oh. That weird one.

I sipped absently at my drink, admiring the way the little copper music notes on the ambigram t-shirt reflected the sunshine. The owner of the shirt turned around to lean back against the railing, and I glanced away. I didn’t want to be caught staring.

What’s Red Chapter? Elizabeth asked.

What?

Red Chapter. It’s on the front of the ambigram shirt. Maybe it’s a brand name?

I glanced back to see what she was talking about and found myself looking instead into the darkest, warmest eyes I’d ever seen. For a moment, I forgot about Elizabeth’s question, forgot that I didn’t want to get caught staring, forgot my name, forgot to breathe.

Then the guy’s friend elbowed him to get his attention, he turned away, and the world began to spin again. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look elsewhere, even though I really, really didn’t want to.

Wow, I breathed.

Uh-huh, Elizabeth agreed. At least as good as the view from behind. She must have seen confusion on my face because she added, Don’t tell me you missed it!

Um. Missed what?

Elizabeth sighed. Only the most perfect bubble butt I’ve ever seen.

Dammit. I glanced back at the guy just in time to see his gaze slide back to me. I wanted to smile an encouraging, flirtatious little smile at him, but it was all I could do to just keep breathing. He was breathtaking. Literally. With a lean build that spoke of hidden strength, honey-gold skin set off by the white of his shirt, and dark, shaggy hair, he was definitely easy on the eyes.

The eyes. His eyes. Yeah, he was good looking, but there was something more.

I gave myself a good, hard mental shake. I wasn’t here to find my soul mate or even to have a fling. I was done with men, done with their stupidity and lies and...

I took a deep breath and another pull from my daiquiri. The next week was not about love or sex but about hanging out with my evil twin and getting away from the stress of our less-than-stellar lives.

Still sipping my drink, I dragged my attention back to the book in front of me and away from the gorgeous man leaning against the railing. Or at least I tried to. I found myself glancing his way again and again, drawn not only by his physical appearance, which was nice enough all on its own, but also by the strange, sinking, floating feeling I’d had when our eyes met. There was just something about him. But unless I found a lot more liquid courage—probably in the form of Cuervo—I wasn’t likely to ever trade two words with the guy. Might as well put him out of my head.

After he and his friend wandered off and Elizabeth and I headed back to our cabin to get ready for dinner, I finally managed to get my mind off tallish, dark, and handsome. More or less.

Chapter Two

At dinner, we were seated with two older couples who had come on the cruise together. They were sociable and entertaining, and Elizabeth and I both enjoyed meeting and talking to them. Our one previous cruise experience had left us wary, so it was a pleasant surprise.

Afterwards, we wandered the ship for a while, savoring the balmy breeze on the Lido deck and trying to figure out what to do with our evening. We ended up going to check out the welcome aboard show in the main lounge. The song-and-dance routines were under-whelming. And cheesy as hell. The comedian who followed was a lot better, so we made plans to catch his full show later in the cruise.

Not having endured enough torture for one evening, we went to see what the karaoke lounge had to offer. We lasted all of ten minutes before some old guy butchering Margaritaville drove us across the lounge to the bar, both for a drink and because it was harder to hear the horrible off-key singing on that side of the room.

We debated over drinks for a while. I’d have loved a chick beer or a good hard cider, but that was something that couldn’t be found anywhere on the ship. I ended up ordering a chocolate martini, which was pretty good, while Elizabeth went with something tropical and fruity that kind of scared me. We took our drinks to a table near the bar just as the old guy wandered offstage to polite applause. Two teenage girls took his place and began to stumble and squeak their way through a popular song by one emo band or another.

Elizabeth and I did what we do—people-watching with a side of snarky commentary—and drank our cocktails, and in spite of some horrible song choices and some even worse singers, it was actually kind of fun.

Some nerdy twenty-something guy was chirping his way through a pretty good rendition of an annoyingly perky song when the straw in Elizabeth’s glass started sucking nothing but air.

I’ll be back, she said, pushing back from the table.

Wait. I’ll come with. I grabbed my nearly empty glass and followed her back to the bar. I studied the bottles behind the bar while she looked over a menu, considering what to try next.

Can I buy you a drink? I heard someone say. I looked up to see a familiar-looking blond talking to my best friend.

Elizabeth turned away from her menu and gave the guy a hard look. I heaved a mental sigh. If the guy had asked to buy me a drink, I might have let him. He was pretty cute and seemed harmless enough—and it was just a drink, not a car or an engagement ring. But Elizabeth would probably shred his tender little feelings and kick him a few times as he scurried away with his tail tucked between his legs. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend, Larry, for the second time. She was into window shopping only these days.

Have you heard of the women’s liberation movement? she asked the guy. See, a while back a bunch of women got tired of getting the short end of the stick. They busted their asses so that I’d have the right and the ability to buy my own damned drinks.

I turned my head, cringing and wanting to hide under a table, but laughter made me turn right back around. The guy Elizabeth had cut down was just staring at her, but behind him, grinning, was Ambigram Shirt Guy. I breathed past the sudden fluttery feeling in my chest and just stared.

Okay. I’m cool with that, Blondie said. You can buy me a drink, then. He flashed his pearly whites at Elizabeth, and I wondered if she’d slug him.

Seth, I think the nice lady wants you to bugger off, the other guy said in an accent I couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, I liked it.

Elizabeth looked to her left and then to her right, making a show of it. She turned to me and asked, You see any ladies around here, Dylan?

Before I could answer, Ambigram Shirt Guy said, Shhh. Play along. If he thinks you’re not proper ladies, you’ll never get rid of him.

Elizabeth laughed too, then, and said, I bet I can scare him off. I seem to excel at that. She ordered another fruity concoction, which she paid for herself, and when she turned around, the blond took a step closer.

I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Seth, he said, offering her his hand.

She sighed and shook his hand. Elizabeth. And still not interested.

Seth just turned his smile up a few watts. I got the memo. I’ll behave. Promise.

Elizabeth didn’t look convinced, so I stepped in to make peace. Dylan, I said, offering him my hand.

A pleasure, he said. He looked from me to Elizabeth and back again.

No, she’s not my girlfriend, Elizabeth told him.

This time Ambigram stepped in to keep the peace. Sorry about him. They don’t let him out of the asylum very often. He gripped his friend’s shoulder to get his attention. Say goodnight, Seth.

Brian, man, you never let me have any fun, Seth replied. Then he got a strange look on his face. Crap! That’s me, he said, turning to make a beeline for the karaoke stage.

Elizabeth groaned. Please, please tell me he can sing. And has decent taste in music.

Brian shrugged. He’s kind of crap.

The first piano notes of Journey’s Open Arms played through the speakers, and Elizabeth took a big gulp of her drink. I drained my martini, wishing for another one. Brian smirked and turned to the bartender, ordering a soda. I started to tease him, to ask if he was the designated driver tonight, when I heard the most amazing sound—Seth, singing. And doing it well.

Elizabeth and I stared at each other in shock for a second and then turned our full attention to the cute guy belting out the best karaoke tune we’d heard all night. Maybe the best we’d ever heard. Seth left the stage to thunderous applause and a leggy blonde intercepted him on the way to the bar. I bet she’d have no problem letting him buy her a drink.

I turned to Brian and glared. That was just mean.

He smiled at me, and my heart flip-flopped like a fish in a net. Give it a couple hours and a few more drinks. I promise you, he’ll be crap before the night is out.

And probably singing the theme to Fresh Prince, Elizabeth added.

Brian laughed. I wouldn’t put it past him.

I tried to think of something witty to say or some topic for conversation…anything to keep Brian talking. Coming up blank, I turned away to order another drink instead. Behind me I could hear Elizabeth complimenting Brian’s shirt and asking questions about it, no doubt making plans to buy one for herself. The girl had a serious t-shirt addiction. Her closet was full of the things, mostly concert mementos and ones with snarky sayings.

I signed the little sales receipt, accepted my drink from the bartender, and crossed the three feet of space between me and my evil twin. Seth made his way back to the little group a few seconds later.

Candy has invited us to share her table, he said, nodding toward the girl who’d intercepted him. He gauged Brian’s reaction and gave him a little grin. There’s room for all four of us. I asked.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, and I kicked her in the ankle. She turned to glare at me, and I said, Best seat in the house.

She glared at me for a moment, and then her expression softened. Yeah, I guess I can see that.

We took our drinks and followed the guys over to Candy’s table. To my surprise, she introduced herself to us with a firm handshake. Color me impressed.

The seating around the table was one long, curved couch. Candy and Seth claimed one end of it, sitting closer together than was strictly necessary, and Elizabeth took the other end. That left me and Brian in the middle, and I said a silent thank you to whoever might be listening even as I wondered why I was letting myself care.

Brian was mine and Elizabeth’s equal when it came to people-watching and snarky commentary. While Candy and Seth engaged in their own private party—interrupted by Seth’s occasional turns at karaoke—the three of us praised or lamented the singers and pointed out interesting goings-on to each other.

About an hour later, Brian took advantage of the momentary silence between songs to ask me and Elizabeth if we needed anything from the bar. I was still nursing my daiquiri, but Elizabeth asked him to bring her a bottle of water. Just as he stood up to head to the bar, the KJ called out the name of the next karaoke singer. Brian got a puzzled look on his face and looked first toward the KJ and then at Seth.

I paid more attention when the KJ called the name again—Brian Kelly—and I realized what had happened even before Seth smiled up at Brian and said, Payback’s a bitch.

Brian rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans in a nervous gesture.

Douche weasel, Elizabeth snarled at Seth. The girl really has a way with words sometimes. And I agreed with her. If someone had put me on the spot like this, he wouldn’t live to tell the tale.

As I watched Brian put one foot in front of the other like a man headed toward the gallows, I had a thought. I turned to Elizabeth and said, Safety in numbers, right?

She looked at me, at Brian, and then at me again. Seriously? She sighed. You do remember that we can’t sing, right?

I shrugged and downed the rest of my daiquiri in one go, giving myself a mild case of brain-freeze. Fuck it, I said. Let’s go.

Elizabeth and I hurried to catch up with Brian, who was clearly surprised to find himself saddled with a pair of backup singers. He didn’t argue, though. And maybe it was my imagination, but I thought he looked kind of glad to have the support.

None of us knew what to expect. Since Seth was out for revenge for some unknown wrong, he could have chosen some lame-ass song—or one that’s impossible to sing—in addition to signing Brian up behind his back. We were all really freaking nervous while we waited to see what we were stuck with.

A power ballad by a band called DPS queued up, and Elizabeth shot me a grin. We knew this song. It was ridiculously romantic—so much so that it had caused Elizabeth to dub the band Drowning People in Sappiness—but I really liked it. Elizabeth did, too, most of the time. When she hadn’t just had her heart smashed by some asshole, anyway.

The brief acoustic guitar intro played out, and all three of us managed to find our timing. We wouldn’t be landing a recording contract or winning a Grammy or anything, but we managed to harmonize pretty well. Right up to the point where I made the mistake of looking up at Brian and falling into those molten chocolate eyes. At that point, I kind of forgot to sing. Until Elizabeth helpfully stepped on my foot.

We made it through our three minutes of hell and scurried off the stage. I headed straight for the bar, shaking as much from the intensely intimate moment I’d shared with Brian as from making an ass of myself in front of a bunch of strangers.

I paused at the bar and waited for Elizabeth to catch up with me. To my surprise, Brian was right behind her.

Going up on deck, I told Elizabeth. I need a cigarette.

Want me to come with?

I shook my head. I’ll be back, I said and fled.

Brian followed, stopping me right outside the lounge.

Are you okay? he asked.

Not so much.

Before I could turn and continue up to the Lido deck, Brian pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him back. It felt nice.

When I didn’t think I could justify holding on to him any longer, I pulled away and told him, like I had Elizabeth, that I was heading up on deck. But when he asked if I wanted company, I said yes.

For a long moment, I considered heading to the casino, since it was the closest smoking area on the ship, but I needed the ocean breeze in my face as much as I needed a nicotine fix, so I led the way to the nearest elevators instead.

Thank you, Brian said as we waited for the elevator to make its way to our floor. For the support back there. And sorry you ended up in the middle of that. He had his hands in his pockets and his head inclined a little, like he was embarrassed and trying to hide his face without looking like he was trying to hide his face.

You’re welcome, I think. And what exactly did I end up in the middle of?

The elevator dinged, and an age and a day later, the doors actually opened. We let a herd of preteens scurry past us and then stepped inside. Brian punched the button for the Lido deck before he answered me.

Seth’s in a band, he said. He had a gig in Miami a few days before the cruise. And when he got back to his hotel room after the show, there was a hooker waiting for him.

I can’t imagine he needs to pay for sex, but what does his hiring a hooker have to do with anything?

The elevator stopped two floors before our destination and a trio of little old ladies joined us, effectively putting a stop to talk of hookers. We all made small talk about how we were enjoying the cruise so far, and then we were at the Lido deck. We went our separate ways, the ladies heading inside and Brian following me to one of the tables.

I made sure there was an ashtray handy and collapsed into a chair. Brian sat down across the table from me.

So…hooker in the hotel room, I said as I fumbled a lighter and a pack of menthols out of my purse.

Yeah, about that. Seth didn’t hire her. I did.

I stared at Brian for a moment before tucking the cigarette between my lips and trying to light it. My hands were shaking, and the current conversation wasn’t helping much. Brian scooted his chair closer and took the lighter from my hand. I half-expected some show of disapproval, but he just spun the wheel on the lighter and held the flame steady while I lit my cigarette.

Thanks.

No worries, he said. And she wasn’t really a hooker.

I’m lost, I confessed, taking a deep drag.

Seth’s been…well, he’s been down lately and a bit of an ass because of it. Me and a couple of friends thought we’d bring him back down to Earth is all.

By hiring a fake hooker?

Brian scrunched down in his chair, bringing the heel of one foot up to rest on the seat and bracing his other foot on a nearby empty chair. We convinced a friend of a friend to pretend to be a hooker, actually.

Oooh. That’s kind of evil.

Brian smiled. A little. Especially since we videoed the whole argument they had. He kept trying to tell her he hadn’t hired her, and she kept insisting that he pay her anyway, since she’d missed out on other jobs while she was waiting on him. Then she started in on how he might as well get his money’s worth. His grin widened. The look on his face was priceless.

I laughed. I can imagine.

So yeah, half an hour of trying to talk his way out of the situation, having her question his sexuality and his virility—I think you get the picture.

Oh yeah. You got off easy.

That remains to be seen.

I nodded. It would make sense for more revenge to follow the very mild bit of retribution Seth had inflicted earlier. Actually, I felt like I’d borne the brunt of that bit of devilry. Brian hadn’t seemed all that bothered by it.

We sat in silence for a while as I smoked, just listening to the ocean and the myriad cruise ship sounds. It was a comfortable silence, not the kind that ached to be filled. Brian seemed relaxed, and I had calmed down again. Only when I had finished my smoke and crushed the filter out in the ashtray did Brian speak.

Okay now?

Better, yeah. Sorry about that. I leaned my arms on the table and propped my head in my hands.

Brian made a sound that might have meant just about anything. Nothing to say ‘sorry’ for. He was quiet for a moment and then asked, If it terrifies you, why did you do it? Not that I wasn’t grateful for the support.

Honestly? I’m not sure. It just seemed like the thing to do. And anyway, I make myself sing karaoke every once in a while. Partly it’s to try to get over being terrified. And partly it’s just to prove to myself that I can do it even if I am terrified.

Brian nodded as if it made perfect sense to him. Who knows? Maybe it did.

I was debating whether to sit there in silence, try to draw Brian into conversation, or go back to the karaoke lounge, when Elizabeth crossed the deck toward us.

Okay, I’m done, she said, pulling up a chair. Your buddy wandered off with Bimbo Barbie and some really creepy old guy started talking to me. I think he was trying to hit on me, but he was so drunk I couldn’t really tell.

They always find you, I noted.

No shit they do. Except when they find you instead. She looked at the chair Brian was using for a footrest and said, Nice shoes. She propped her own feet up by his, and I realized they were both wearing all-black Converse high-tops.

Thanks, Brian said with a grin. He stretched his other leg out, too, and sunk down farther in his chair. How long ago did Seth wander off?

Elizabeth shrugged. Not that long. Maybe fifteen minutes or so?

Brian sighed. I guess I should give them at least an hour.

We’re better company, anyway, Elizabeth said. And it’s too early to go to sleep.

True, on both counts, Brian agreed. But there has to be a more comfortable place to hang out.

I’d say our cabin, but it’s a teeny tiny closet down in steerage, Elizabeth said.

I vote for somewhere with food, I added. Dinner had been pretty lavish, but it had also been ages ago. I was only just starting to get hungry, but knowing Elizabeth and me, I’d be starving by the time we finally got around to making up our minds about what to do next.

We tossed around ideas for a minute or two, but our choices were kind of limited. Despite what the TV ads say, there are times when there isn’t a lot going on aboard a cruise ship. Half past one on embarkation day is one of those times, or at least it was on this ship.

We decided to grab pizza from the late-night snack bar and settled in at the first vacant table we found. Around bites of amazingly good pizza, we made small talk, mostly about the piped-in music and the people around us. Elizabeth also told us a little more about the old guy who was hitting on her in the karaoke bar.

He sounded like he was from the Bronx, but I think that might have just been because he was so frickin’ drunk, she said. And I swear if he had called me ‘Liz’ one more time, I was going to punch him in the throat.

Elizabeth isn’t big on nicknames, at least not for herself, I explained. Though she will let people get away with calling her Em.

Em? Like the letter? Brian asked, scrunching down in his chair. He looked tired, and I kind of wanted to hunt his friend down and strangle him for keeping Brian from his own bed.

Like the letters ‘e’ and ‘m’, Elizabeth explained. My initials.

Ah. So what’s wrong with ‘Liz’ exactly?

Elizabeth shrugged. Just not me, I guess.

I knew there was more to the story than that, but I wasn’t about to go into it. It wasn’t my story to tell.

Not a fan of ‘Beth’ either, I guess?

Elizabeth shook her head. Beth is a name for a sweet, innocent, cuddly kind of girl. What about me screams cute and cuddly? She paused for less than a heartbeat before adding, No, don’t answer that. I’ll probably get pissy no matter what you say, and dammit, I like you. She paused again. Not in the high school drama sense. You’re just cool people.

Brian laughed. Thanks, I think.

Whatever response Elizabeth had been about to make was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. Ugh, she groaned. Food coma.

Yeah, I agreed. It’s late, and it’s been a long day.

And we make port bright and early tomorrow, Elizabeth reminded me. We should probably get on that whole sleep thing.

As reluctant as I was to part company with Brian, I knew Elizabeth was right. We would be arriving in Key West at some ungodly hour of morning, and Elizabeth would be dragging me off the boat not long after. Best to get some sleep while we could. Besides this week was not about hanging out with some guy, no matter how decent he seemed.

Brian accompanied us as far as his floor—just one below the Lido deck—and hugged us both good night before parting with a casual, I’ll see you around.

I found myself hoping he was right.

Chapter Three

I woke up the next morning to the sound of Elizabeth’s alarm clock. She prodded me into getting up and dressed, and we went up on deck to take our first good look at Key West. We took some pictures (mostly Elizabeth) and had that all important first cigarette of the day (that was all me) and watched our fellow cruisers streaming off the ship.

I had just found an ashtray and was looking for my evil twin when I spotted Brian leaning against the railing, looking out at the island. After a quick glance around to see if I could spot Elizabeth anywhere, I hurried up the stairs to the upper deck and made my way over to Brian.

Good morning, I said.

Brian turned, a smile lighting up his face. Good morning.

I don’t guess you’ve seen Elizabeth? I asked, grasping for something to talk about.

Yeah, actually. He grinned and turned to look farther down the deck, somewhere behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Elizabeth practically skipping toward us.

Hey, Brian, she said as she drew close to us. You guys got anything interesting planned for the day?

Brian leaned back against the railing. Seth had said something about maybe going parasailing, but everything was still kind of up in the air.

Ugh. That was bad, Elizabeth said.

For a second Brian looked confused, but then he grinned and said, Pun really not intended, believe it or not.

Elizabeth looked up at him. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that one.

You said ‘was’, I interrupted. "Everything was up in the air."

Yeah. Plans have changed.

I saw my frown mirrored on Elizabeth’s face.

He dump you for the blonde, or is he too hung over to get out of bed? Elizabeth asked.

Mmm. Hungover. Or possibly still drunk. I’m not sure.

What a peach, Em said.

Brian shrugged. He’s been going through a rough patch. This cruise was his escape. I’m just along for the ride.

Doesn’t make it okay for him to ditch you, I said.

It’s fine.

So what are you going to do now? Elizabeth asked.

I dunno. Maybe just knock about the island, see what happens.

That’s kind of what our plan is, I told him.

Except for going to Margaritaville, Elizabeth reminded me.

Right. Just going to wander, poke around in the shops, and have lunch at Margaritaville.

Breakfast, Elizabeth corrected.

Whatever, I said. Anyway, you should come with us. I hoped he’d say yes, and I hoped Em wouldn’t kill me for inviting him without consulting her first.

My worries about her feelings on the subject were put to rest when she beamed up at Brian and said, And if you don’t come along peacefully, we’re just going to have to kidnap you.

Brian laughed. Well, we wouldn’t want that. I wouldn’t make a very good prisoner.

Me, either, I said. I’d be so much trouble that the kidnappers would pay to give me back.

The three of us went downstairs to disembark and stepped out onto the pier. Elizabeth consulted a map she’d printed off the internet and then shoved it into her camera bag. I trusted her to have some idea where we were going because I sure as hell didn’t.

We could see civilization from the boat, at least. The walkway from the pier dead-ended into a harbor front area populated with shops and teeming with tourists. Off to our left I could see the big red building we’d taken pictures of from the ship and I wondered again what it might be. Elizabeth must have been just as curious because she bypassed the shops and headed straight for the big red building.

It turned out to be an old custom house that had been made into a museum. We didn’t go in, but we circled the outside of the building, examining and photographing the life-sized statues outside. Whether they were art none of us could say, but they amused us, and that’s all that really matters.

We continued on for a bit until Em stopped in her tracks, spun in a slow circle to take in everything around her, and pulled out her map again.

Are we lost? I asked.

Um…maybe, she said. Then, No. That way. She started walking again, heading back the way we’d come.

That way? I asked.

That way.

Brian looked at us like we were crazy, and he wasn’t wrong, exactly. I just smiled at him and shrugged, and he smiled back and gave a little shake of his head. We followed Em around a building and she turned around to walk backward, smiling.

Not lost.

We were on Duval Street, which, Elizabeth informed us, is the central artery through the tourist section of Key West. It ended near the pier on our side, and if we followed it all the way across the island, we’d end up at the southernmost point in the continental United States. We wandered down Duval, poking into the occasional shop and taking pictures and making comments on everything.

Elizabeth exclaimed over the way that even the most mundane businesses—like Wendy’s and Walgreens—had been designed so they didn’t detract from the beauty and the ambiance of Old Town Key West. Brian noted the laid-back, friendly nature of the people, who would stop and say hello like we weren’t even strangers, much less tourists. I spent a little more time than was necessary admiring the architecture of a large church, and Elizabeth and I both took notice of a handful of Parrothead landmarks, like Capt. Tony’s, Caroline Street, and Margaritaville. But the best part of the entire trek down Duval Street was the Halloween decorations. All the businesses had dressed up their storefronts, their sidewalks, their rooftops, and anywhere else they could reach, and we were constantly pointing things out to each other.

When we had almost run out of road, Elizabeth looked around for a moment and then followed the flow of pedestrian traffic to the ocean’s edge. Ther, people were lining up to take each other’s photos at the Southernmost marker, which looks like a big buoy. We were all more interested in the breathtaking view of the ocean and the horizon than in the marker-- though Em and I, dorks that we are, both wanted to be able to say we’d been there. Elizabeth ended up taking some pictures for a group of girls, and one of them insisted on returning the favor in kind.

You, too, Elizabeth said to Brian, and he came along without hesitation, stepping in between the two of us and wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders.

We thanked the girl and spent a little more time just staring out at the water, and then Elizabeth announced that it had better be breakfast time.

The walk to Margaritaville seemed to take three times as long on the way back. At some point, Brian and I both fell behind, still enraptured by the unique charm of Key West. Elizabeth stood, hands on her hips and foot tapping impatiently, waiting for us to catch up.

Food now, flirt later, she told us.

Yes, ma’am, Brian said, giving her a little salute.

She leveled a mock glare at him. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?

Brian’s brows shot up in surprise and amusement. Yeah, of course. My mum. But that really only applies to people who are actually older than me.

I bet I am.

Elizabeth, who had five years on me, wasn’t old by any means, but she looked even younger. Hell, we both did. And she was used to being the oldest, since our friends tended to be my age and younger.

I’ll take the bet, Brian said. What’s the wager?

Hmm. For a minute or two, Elizabeth looked thoughtful, and then a wide, mischievous smile lit up her face. The winner gets to buy the loser a present in one of the souvenir shops, she said. Something wearable. And the loser has to wear it all day tomorrow.

Brian grinned at her, his smile crinkling up his eyes in a way that I found adorable and kind of addictive. He shook her hand and said, Deal.

Cool. Now how old do you think I am? Elizabeth asked.

It was a tricky question, for sure. If he guessed too old, it would be an insult, and if he guessed too young it would show that he was trying not to insult her.

Maybe 26 or 27?

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. Oooh, I like him Dylan. Can we keep him?

I take it I’m wrong?

Way wrong, I said, earning myself a playful smack from Elizabeth. Here’s a hint, I’m younger than she is, and that guess would be too low for me, too.

Surprise showed on Brian’s face as he looked at me and then back to Em. What if I don’t believe you?

Elizabeth unzipped her camera bag as she answered, I have proof. Do you?

They both fished out their driver’s licenses and exchanged them. Brian grinned as he handed Elizabeth’s back to her.

That’s so not fair, she said, handing him his license.

What’s not fair? I asked.

Four freakin’ weeks. Like…36 days, or something. She stopped, clearly doing the math and said, Yeah, 36 freakin’ days.

Brian was still grinning—rather smugly—as we followed Elizabeth into the air conditioned comfort of Margaritaville, and Elizabeth was still grumbling when, just a few minutes later, the hostess led us to a table.

With the throngs of cruise ship tourists flooding the island, the restaurant was pretty packed. We were shown to a table in the back and near the bar. Elizabeth left in search of ‘the loo,’ as she called it, before we even sat down. I took a chair facing the room, the front doors, and the larger-than-life mural of Jimmy Buffett. Brian took the seat across from me, and I felt a momentary pang of disappointment that he hadn’t sat beside me instead.

We both took a moment to look around at the décor and the staff. Both the workers and the restaurant itself were dressed up for Halloween. I was especially amused by a parrot statuette that was wearing a witch’s hat and cape.

We turned our attention to the menus, and when I glanced up a moment later, Brian was watching me.

I have a confession, he said. I felt my heart rate speed up as I waited. I really don’t know anything about Jimmy Buffett.

I laughed. Heresy, I teased.

Shun, Elizabeth said, dropping into the chair beside me. Shun the non-believer!

I elbowed her. No more psychotic internet videos for you.

Your niece is the one who made me watch it, she reminded me.

Across the table, Brian just shook his head.

The server came for our drink order, and then we went back to perusing the menu. I figured the cute names for the menu items were probably a lot more interesting to us Parrotheads, but I saw Brian grin as he looked over the offerings. I realized then that I was staring at him instead of deciding what to have for lunch, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Elizabeth asked me.

I really don’t think so, I replied. I had been admiring the way that the little triangles of facial hair above and below Brian’s lips accented the perfect cupid’s bow of his mouth and wondering what it would be like to kiss him, so I really hoped that Em and I weren’t thinking the same thing. What were you thinking?

Conch fritters.

I turned to smile at Em. Not what I was thinking, no, but I like the way you think.

She gave me a knowing look and turned back to her menu.

After we had gotten our drinks and placed our food orders, Em slouched down in her chair, probably so she could stretch her legs enough to rest her feet in the chair beside Brian’s, and asked, So are you glad you came along willingly?

Grinning, Brian said, I dunno. The whole kidnapping thing might have been interesting.

We’ve got a couple more ports of call. I’ll see what I can do.

Brian started to respond, then frowned and dug a cell phone out of his pocket instead. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that we were in a place where we could use our cells. It wasn’t like I had anyone back home I was just dying to talk to.

Yeah, Brian said into his cell. What a very guy way to answer a phone. No, it’s cool. Dylan and Elizabeth let me tag along.

Must be Sir Douchebag, Elizabeth muttered in my ear.

Brian kept the conversation short, telling Seth he’d see him when he got back and reassuring him that he wasn’t mad. He disconnected the call and laid his big brick smartphone on the table.

Sorry about that, he said.

Seth? I asked, like it wasn’t obvious.

Yeah. He feels pretty shitty about bailing on me.

He should, Elizabeth said.

Brian smiled at me and said, I’m kind of glad he did.

I was glad, too. Really glad.

So what’s his story? I asked. You said he’s had it rough lately?

Bad break-up, Brian explained, sipping his soda. He’s been out on tour for a while, and his girl got tired of waiting, or at least that’s what she told him.

Ouch.

He seemed to be recovering from the heartbreak pretty nicely last night, Elizabeth noted.

Brian made a soft sound that said he didn’t agree. Yeah, well, you weren’t the one whose shoulder he was crying on at four in the morning.

Elizabeth looked pensive. Like, crying for real? Brian nodded, and Em sighed. Dammit, Brian, don’t tell me that. I don’t want to feel sorry for him.

Sorry, Brian said, with the barest hint of a smile.

Had they been together for a while? I asked.

A couple of years. I don’t think she ever expected his band to make it to the point of touring.

So, what you’re saying is that she’d been hoping he’d never actually achieve his dreams so that he could sit around and play happy family with her? Elizabeth looked like she could have cheerfully murdered the ex-girlfriend. She had a protective streak, and when her friends were hurt or someone pushed one of her hot buttons, she could rival a lioness protecting her cubs. What a bitch.

I don’t think she really hoped that he wouldn’t get what he wanted, Brian replied. I think it was more that she never looked far enough ahead or saw the big picture. She was like that with everything. And yeah, she’s kind of a bitch. I think she proved that by breaking up with him in a text message.

That’s just wrong, I said.

Well, at least she didn’t give him some bullshit line about how she didn’t really want to break up with him, Elizabeth snarled. About how she just needed some time and space. And then ended up with a new girlfriend a week later.

Boyfriend, I corrected. If you’re still talking about his ex, she probably would have ended up with a new boyfriend.

Elizabeth flapped her hand at me in a gesture that was meant to tell me to shut up and then dropped it to the tabletop, tracing the pattern on one of the cardboard coasters.

Brian reached across the table and laid his hand on top of Elizabeth’s. I’m sorry. Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of things, too.

She just nodded, and I knew it was because she was afraid she’d scream or start crying or something if she talked about Larry. The wound was still pretty fresh.

A heart is a fragile thing, Brian said. And it breaks a lot easier than it mends.

No shit, Elizabeth agreed. Her voice was a little hoarse from emotion, but she managed to keep it in check.

The waitress showed up with our conch fritters, and Brian let go of Em’s hand. It had only been a friendly gesture, but it still touched off the tiniest spark of jealousy in me. I buried the stupid emotion in food and drink, halfway wishing I’d ordered something stronger than a Coke.

God, I’ve missed these, Elizabeth moaned around a bite of fritter. They just don’t exist in Houston.

Houston, Brian repeated. I didn’t think you sounded like you were from Miami.

God, no, Elizabeth said.

Em is not a fan of Miami, I added, licking remoulade off my fingers. But we did live in Florida once.

We’ve lived a lot of places once, Elizabeth added. We’re starting to consider ourselves Citizens of the World.

Brian nodded. I know the feeling. I’ve bounced around a bit myself.

No, really? With that accent, I never would have guessed, Elizabeth said.

I saw Brian shift in his seat, and then Elizabeth did the same. I realized they were kicking-- or more correctly, nudging—each other under the table.

What was it you said earlier, Em? Food now, flirt later?

Pssh. This is not flirting. This is harassing each other. It’s allowed. She took another bite of fritter, chewed, swallowed, and then asked, So, I’ve been trying not to ask, but your accent. It’s...weird.

Elizabeth! I scolded.

Not in a bad way, she added, but Brian didn’t seem to have taken any offense.

I get that a lot, actually, he said. I’m a mutt.

A mutt, huh? Em said with a grin.

My dad’s from Detriot, he explained. He moved to London for work and met my mum there. They moved to Canberra when my brother was little. That’s where I was born.

Wow, Em said. Guess you really are a mutt. She paused to sip her drink, then took off again in another direction. You said Seth’s in a band?

Yeah. Tangled Web.

Tangled... Elizabeth paused with her mouth half-open and her eyes wide. No wonder his voice sounded familiar. He’s freakin’ Seth Webber.

The name sounds familiar, I said. Well, the band name.

‘Too Many Yesterday’s,’ Elizabeth said.

Ooooh. I knew the song. Pretty much anyone who listened to the radio, watched TV, or was subjected to popular music in any way had heard that song. It was the most overplayed single of the year.

Seth Webber offered to buy me a drink, and I blew him off. That could only happen to me. Grinning, she shook her head. And for the record, you don’t have to worry about us outing him. We won’t say anything.

Never thought you would.

If he keeps singing karaoke, he won’t need us to out him, I said.

You’d be surprised, Brian replied.

Our waitress appeared bearing the rest of our food, and for a while lunch—or breakfast, I guess—took precedence over conversation. Then Elizabeth made a casual comment about the song playing over the PA—some random live track from Jimmy Buffett—and it got us all talking about music.

Brian’s tastes turned out to be as eclectic as mine and Elizabeth’s. I figured if you were to draw out our musical preferences on some sort of chart, you could make three circles—one for each of us—that would overlap in the middle. In other words, we liked a lot of the same artists, such as Tom Petty, Eric Clapton, and Stevie Ray Vaughan, but we had a lot of differing opinions, too.

When the check came, Brian insisted on paying. My way of saying thanks for inviting me, he said. And who could argue with that? We tried, of course, but we failed.

Pleasantly full, we wandered out to peruse the many, many shops. We started with the Margaritaville gift shop next door to the restaurant. I explained a few of the slogans to Brian, who seemed to appreciate the gesture.

What do you think? he asked me at one point, taking down a hideous Hawaiian shirt and holding it up to Elizabeth.

Totally her, I teased.

Ah, hell, Elizabeth said. I forgot about the damned bet.

It’s a good thing one of us remembered, Brian said as he hung the shirt up again.

Em breathed a sigh of relief once the shirt was back on its hook, only to cringe again when Brian paused to consider a hot pink shirt with an overly cute motto. He made a show of his consideration, looking at the shirt, then at Elizabeth, and then at the shirt again. Em cut and ran, going to look at something on the far side of the store, and Brian just grinned.

Good call, I said. Elizabeth hates pink.

Brian smiled. What else should I know?

I filled him in a little on her likes and dislikes, even going so far as to break one of the cardinal rules of female friendship and tell him what size she wore. Nothing in the shop suited him, though—or Em and me for that matter—so we moved on.

The stores were filled with all manner of things, from cute to kitsch to tacky to downright horrifying. We looked through it all. Elizabeth and I oohed and aahed over a lot of things, picked out a few items for friends and family back home, and talked ourselves out of most of what we wanted to buy. I did splurge on a bright blue hoodie that said Key West on it, but Elizabeth didn’t buy a single thing for herself. I knew she was on a tight budget, and I tried to get her to let me buy her something, but she politely refused. Brian didn’t buy anything, but he occasionally found some hideous or offensive article to tease Elizabeth with.

After an incident involving a t-shirt in a particularly hideous shade of yellow that bore the words I’m hotter than your girlfriend, Em flounced off, and Brian thought that he had upset her. He went to make peace, but before he could say anything, she held up a t-shirt with a big cartoon rooster on it along with the words, I’m shy, but I have a big cock.

I’d totally buy this for you if you had lost the bet, she said in a syrupy sweet voice, but you’re not all that shy. And I’m pretty sure the rest would just be false advertising.

Brian laughed and hugged her, and I had a feeling they’d be friends for life after that.

We worked our way back toward the ship, and when we reached the area near the pier, Brian still hadn’t bought the promised souvenir for Elizabeth. I figured he’d decided to let her off the hook, but he stopped us in a shady spot and told us he still had things to do on the island.

You didn’t think I was letting you off that easy, did you? he asked, and Elizabeth all but groaned. I’ll get it to you later tonight.

Note to self, Elizabeth said, mentally prepare to spend all day tomorrow hiding in the cabin.

Chapter Four

After making plans to meet up with Brian after dinner, Em and I reboarded the ship and discussed what to do with the rest of our afternoon. We had the early dinner seating, which gave us about three free hours. After Em did the math—three hours minus showers and dressing and primping for ‘elegant night’—we didn’t have a lot of time to kill. We opted to catnap, which somehow turned into lying in our bunks talking about Key West. And Brian.

He likes you, Elizabeth said. Like, high school drama likes you.

No, he really doesn’t, I said, even though I would have loved for her to be right. Even though I didn’t want or need the complication of a romantic interest, as I had to keep reminding myself, it’s always nice to be wanted. At least by non-creepy guys. Most of the time he paid more attention to you than to me.

Duh. He’s not as comfortable with you because he wants to get you nekkid.

I laughed and threw a pillow at her. She tucked the pillow under her head and turned on her side.

Hey! Give it back!

Finders keepers, she said, but she threw the pillow back to me. And he does like you. I’d be willing to bet on it. She paused for a moment and then said, Well, I might be willing to bet on it. I’ll have to see how this bet with Brian turns out first, and then I’ll let you know.

A little while later, Elizabeth and I gave up on the idea of napping and started getting ready for the evening ahead of us. We took turns in the shower, and then Em cranked up some music on her laptop and we started the ritual of hair and makeup. We tried to stay out of each other’s way as we peered into the mirror, putting on eyeliner and shadow and lip gloss and blush. Em took pity on me and helped me with my hair, experimenting with a couple of styles before she was satisfied, and then set to work painstakingly straightening hers.

Once we had our game faces on, we pulled out our formal wear. I slipped into an elegant black and white column dress we had found in a second-hand shop and turned toward the full length mirror. I don’t know that I’d ever admit it to her, but I found myself grateful that Elizabeth had insisted that I buy the dress. She’d said it would come in handy one day, and she was right. And with the hairstyle she’d settled on and a little makeup, I almost didn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror.

Wow, Dylan, Elizabeth said, drawing my attention away from the mirror. You look amazing.

You’re not so bad yourself, I told her.

It was an understatement, really. She looked amazing, too. Her dark brown dress perfectly complemented her hair and skin tones and made her dark eyes sparkle. The copper highlights in the dress reflected the ones in her hair and her makeup. The look worked for her.

I walked the two steps to stand beside Em and turned her toward the mirror.

We clean up pretty well, Elizabeth said, slinging her arm around my shoulders.

That we do.

We were a little ahead of schedule, but we didn’t see any point in wasting our awesomeness on each other so we headed toward the dining room. Since we had time to kill, we detoured by the little area where all the souvenir photos were on display. We weren’t really interested in seeing our likely godawful welcome aboard pictures. Instead, we explored the photographs as a sort of extension of our people-watching, seeking out the best and worst pictures we could find.

After a while, we went downstairs where Elizabeth talked me into posing for formal pictures. She didn’t have to work too hard to convince me. I wanted proof that we could look classy when we wanted to.

That done, we joined our tablemates at dinner. Our companions were as entertaining and easy to talk to as they had been the night before, and conversation was lively. Everyone told everyone else how nice they looked dressed up for dinner, and we all agreed that being in an elegant dining room filled with people dressed to the nines lent a certain something to the cruise experience. I’m usually a jeans and tank top kind of girl, but I really think that only made the experience that much better for me.

After dinner, Elizabeth and I went to the atrium, the central hub of the ship, to find Brian and Seth. We had arranged to meet a couple of floors above the pandemonium taking place on the main level where cruisers were lined up to have their pictures taken. While we waited for the guys to appear, Elizabeth and I leaned against the railing, looking down at the hubbub and discussing our fellow cruisers’ choices in formal wear.

I was watching a little girl in a pink pageant dress twirl around in circles when I heard Elizabeth say, Holy…wow.

I glanced up at Elizabeth and then turned in the direction of her gaze. I swear my heart skipped a beat before it started thudding along a mile a minute.

Brian in the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn during our island adventure had been easy on the eyes. Brian in a black on black suit and tie was absolutely awe-inspiring.

You guys look great, Elizabeth said as Brian and Seth drew near.

Seth flashed a smile at her. Wow. A compliment. I might die of shock.

Don’t get used to it, Elizabeth warned.

Noted, Seth replied. And for the record, the two of you look… He paused, appearing to search for the right word.

Beautiful, Brian said, as he looked into my eyes.

My mouth went dry and I swallowed hard. I could feel heat in my cheeks. Blushing and unable to speak, I settled for giving Brian an uncertain smile.

I was going to say ‘stunning,’ actually, Seth said.

Or ‘stunned’ in Dylan’s case, Elizabeth added in a low voice.

I couldn’t even summon the wherewithal to level a death glare at my best friend. I’d never been this affected by a guy before, and I found it damned inconvenient in that moment.

Forcing myself to shake it off, I turned to look at Seth. He wasn’t as devastatingly gorgeous as Brian, but he looked good. He’d opted for what Elizabeth called the Miami Vice look: a suit worn over a solid-colored t-shirt. In this case, the suit was black, the shirt silky and clingy and an intense pine green that brought out the color of Seth’s eyes.

I managed to find my voice at last and said, Em’s right. You guys look amazing.

I couldn’t see Brian’s face, but Seth smiled at me and then shot a meaningful glance over my shoulder at his friend. I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but Seth distracted me from wondering by suggesting we join the fray downstairs to get more formal pictures taken.

My friends back home won’t believe it if they don’t have proof, he said.

Won’t believe what? Elizabeth asked. The whole suit thing?

Seth nodded. That, and that we were lucky enough to spend time with the two prettiest girls on the ship.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Right.

We let Seth talk us into the pictures. He’s one of those people who could sell hair products to a bald man, but it didn’t take much to convince us, anyway. The photographer assumed we were paired off, and he arranged us accordingly. I noticed that no one—not even Elizabeth—complained.

Once we were done with the photo shoot, I told the others that I wanted to go up on deck.

After the work I put into doing your freakin’ hair? Elizabeth asked, incredulous. That’s a big no. You can smoke in the casino.

I conceded the point and we headed en masse toward the gaming area. We meandered along, Elizabeth spieling about on-ship casino odds while Seth listened in fascination. I was glad that Em had decided to be nice to Seth, and I wondered how long it would last.

As it turned out, Em continued to play