Chapter 2

Roger stomped off up the hallway (the wrong way, I thought smugly) and I sat down on the floor next to the boy. “Was that your kitty?” I asked, wanting to ruffle his hair, but afraid to touch him because I am a man.

“No. It’s the ship’s cat, Captain Tiny Cat. I just wanted to play with him.” He looked up at me, sea-green eyes, blond hair, maybe six years old. “Look at the ceiling, it’s all sparkly. See?”

I saw. I saw more than he knew—I saw the future.

“My name is Jordan. I’m a stowaway. My grampa said so. So don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Of course not,” I said, wanting to tell him I was a pirate.

“Well, my grampa is very nice, but my dad is mean like yours, and my uncle is even worse. He’s a criminal.”

My—ha-ha—my dad—oh my God, Roger would be furious! He was balding, true, and I was only 45 to his 60, and I still had my full head of brown curly hair. This was hilarious

“Did you see the man who has the cat now? He was naked! You could see his stuff and everything. His penis is huge! Did you see it?”

I blushed. Instead of answering, I said, “Let’s get up off the floor. It might be dirty, or someone might need to walk by.”

“Oh ugh, dirty? Yuck!” and the boy leapt to his feet, almost kicking me in the head in his haste. “By the way,” he said, “I’m lost.”

As I stood up, I wondered what to do. Rescuing the cat sounded—interesting (had he dressed yet? The man, I meant.) I looked at the boy. Yes, he was wearing the required wrist band.

“Can you pick me up? I’m tired. And yes, I know you’re a stranger and all that, but I’m lost, and I’m gonna get in trouble!”

So I picked him up. I also carried him down the hall, into the elevator, where he nestled his head into my shoulder, his blond curls tickling my chin, and went to sleep. I took him to the information desk and told them I had a lost boy. Actually, I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when a man behind me said, “You little manure head. I’m gonna whop your ass.”

Before turning around, I felt my left eyebrow rise slowly to my hairline. Everyone turned to look. I felt Jordan stir. He turned his head and clutched me around the neck, tight. “You’re not my father!” he growled at the short man standing behind me.

“Let go of that boy!” shouted the short, fat man.

“No! You’ll only beat me up again! And you’re ugly, too!”

I raised my chin at the short, fat, ugly man before me.

* * * *

Well, about three hours and four security guards later, Jordan was released to his grandmother, a haughty woman of a certain age (with blue hair and a frosty gaze, down her long nose), and I released him because the little monster/angel kept saying what a nice, pretty man I was, and we’d all missed breakfast. As an afterthought, the door to the security office slammed on my foot on my way out. The same foot, of course, that Roger had dropped his suitcase on earlier at the dock.

The man? He turned out to be the boy’s uncle. “You’re only my stupid Uncle Nard!” the little hero had proclaimed with a toss of his shiny curls.

So I headed back to my cabin to hit the john and clean up before lunch. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Roger tossing things around. Sure enough, he was half buried in the closet. “Where’s my damn Viagra!” he was shouting, luckily into the closet and clothing so it muffled the sound. I’m sorry, but I only smirked, snorted and slipped into the bathroom, which looked ransacked, not surprisingly. My shaver and clean towels awaited me in peaceful harmony.

Through the door, I could still hear him, until finally he belted out, “My whole trip is ruined!” followed by a string of curses. Then the hall door slammed, and it was quiet once again.

When I came out, there was a black and white cat asleep on my bed. I laughed, and went to lunch. Up to the Lido. I was still a bit too shaky for the dining room, with its fancy waiters and tablemates you’d have to speak politely to. “Where are you from? Where’s your wife? What do you do?” and then, usually, a monologue by one person while the rest all pretended to listen.

The herds were here: I usually came early to avoid the masses, but I was late, today. I thought I saw Uncle Nard (oh my God, that was a good one), and then I thought I saw some familiar legs. This time there were definitely shorts above them; not that I lost interest, au contraire. But my sandwich was ready.