I clamped onto his neck like superglue.
It took all of my control to ignore the fact that I could cause us both to fall into the sea.
I said a very fast prayer and before I knew it, I was set down over the railing to a very small ledge below. I think I blacked out. Maybe that’s when he pried my hands off of him.
Within seconds, I found myself grabbing onto the closest part of the ship that I could reach (the damn railing), hoping it would keep me from heading down to Davy Jones’s locker. I peeked over to see the waves far below and was glad, in one way, since they couldn’t wash over me, but in another way, I was terrified that it was a darn long way to fall.
Soon Jagger was at my side, holding on to me and motioning for me to stay still-as if I wanted to Polka right here on this tiny ledge to the tune of “By the Beautiful Sea.”
If the Bermuda Triangle didn’t suck us into the surf, I might just jump, since I didn’t think we could ever get off of there alive.
The fear factor was killing me.
My heart thudded. In the room, shadows moved along the wall. Doors opened and shut. We heard voices-muffled voices.
The lights popped on.
“Cleaning people,” Jagger whispered.
Cleaning people? What the heck was he talking about? I thought he’d lost his mind. Maybe Jagger was more afraid than me. Naw. “Whaaaaaaaat?” I asked.
Who cared if I sounded like a frightened kid facing the Headless Horseman on Halloween?
“There are cleaning people in the office. When they’re done, we can go back… What is it, Sherlock?”
Frozen, I couldn’t respond. The ship had tilted to one side. I didn’t know or care if it was port or starboard. For me it was hell.
“You don’t like water.”
At least he didn’t say I was scared shitless. I nodded and in seconds, Jagger’s strong hold had me feeling a bit safer. Of course I wished that hold was on land or at least back in the safety of the hallway, so that I could enjoy it.
After what seemed like hours, Jagger’s grip tightened. “The lights went out. I’m going to lift you over the railing back to the balcony. Remember, you said you trust me.”
“Um.” If I were watching us in a video, I’d probably laugh. My body had stiffened to near rigor mortis, and nothing-not even Jagger’s kind words, sexy words or, finally, annoyed words-could loosen my muscles. So, with me like a surfboard, he tried to push my rigid body over the rail. But before he could, the boat shifted again. He stumbled but caught himself, causing me to grab out-and yank a tuft of hair from his head.
“Ouch!” he shouted as he instinctively reached up to his hair and let me go.
I slipped back to the deck-and Jagger stumbled backward off the small ledge.
I screamed.
He yelled.
I scrambled to my feet.
And suddenly his hands were clutching the ledge where I was standing.
His hands!
I could only see his hands!
“Sherlock! Sherrrrrrlock!”
Jagger could-no, would-fall to his death if I let my fears keep me safely on the ledge. Without thinking (since thinking would surely get me into trouble), I climbed back over the railing onto the balcony to keep the barrier between us for safety. I reached through the bars and grabbed his hands. “I’ve…got…you.”
“Pull!”
I pulled. My damp hands flew back toward me, empty. “No!”
I stared for a few seconds then leaned forward.
His hands reached over the ledge again. “I’m standing on a pipe below.”
The wind nearly snatched away his words, but I heard the wonderful sound and thanked God. “Try again.” We repeated the action twice more and both times his wet grip slipped from mine, and on the first try one spike heel went overboard. This last time I screamed, not caring if the cleaning people found us.
“Pauline. Help.” His voice grew fainter.
Jagger was losing strength.
“I’m going to help!” With that I pulled with the strength adrenaline gives a mother whose child is pinned under a car. I yanked on his hands and arms and kept pressure on my hold with my leg wrapped around the railing until he was safely on top of the small ledge.
He lay there for a few minutes. Even fearless Jagger had to have lost a few years after that scene.
Once he was over the railing onto the large balcony, he clutched me in his arms. When his lips touched mine, I knew this was not just a “hey, thanks a lot” kinda kiss.
Yum.
After a quick trip back to my room to “touch up” my makeup, put on some dry clothes and grab a full pair of shoes, I was down in the casino at fifteen past eight.
“Suga!”
I swung around to see Goldie and Miles walking toward me. I couldn’t help myself. I ran up to them and grabbed each in a bear hug.
Miles pushed me back to look at me. “Whoa. What’s that all about? You all right?”
How could I tell my two best friends that I’d come so close to dying?
“Yes and no, I’m not. I need a drink.”
Miles gasped.
Goldie swooned.
And Jagger walked up to me with a glass of something liquid and golden. “Drink it all-”
I snatched the shot glass from Jagger’s hand and chugged the liquid down in one hot, choking swallow. “Arrgh!”
He shook his head. “-slowly. I was going to say drink it slowly.”
“Now…you…tell me.” My voice sounded as if I’d smoked a pack a day from birth.
Goldie reached over, his hand covered in a white silken glove that ran up to his elbow, and patted me on the back. “Suga. Suga. What caused all this?”
I looked around. Hunter was on the other side of the room with a group of passengers. He noticed me and gave me a wave along with an “I’ll be over as soon as I can get away from this group” look.
I smiled as best I could after the choking incident (by the way, my throat still burned), waved and mouthed, “Take your time.”
I motioned for Miles and Goldie to follow me to a secluded table in the back of the room. Behind the dolphin, whale and seahorse slot machines, we found an unoccupied table. I flopped into a chair, thinking whatever golden liquid Jagger had given me had me relaxed enough for a siesta. Only thing was, it was nearly bedtime.
Good old Gold patted me on the arm this time. “Tell us, Suga.”
I looked at his ivory silk suit, flared pants, diamond necklace that matched gold dangling dolphin earrings with little emerald eyes (which I was certain Miles had bought for him) and tonight’s wig choice-platinum blonde bob, classic Carol Channing. I told them the entire story.
But first I started with, “No screeching. Promise?”
They looked at each other. Grabbed each other’s hand. And both nodded. I began and finished about tonight’s event and Jackie’s death with the two of them covering their mouths with their hands, eyes bulging, and blinking.
“Good boys,” I said. “Anyway, no need to fret. Jagger and I are all right. Only lost one shoe.”
Goldie gasped.
I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d come so close to joining that shoe in the deep sea of death, or if the gasp was for the fact that I’d lost one of the only pair of sexy spike heels I owned-Prada, no less-and Goldie had picked them out for me during a huge sale.
I’m sure it was the first reason, but had to smile to myself about the last. “So now I have to find out more about-”
“Ah, Pauline, here you are. Hiding in the shadows with your…friends.” Hunter gave them a curious look. Guess he was wondering if Goldie was Miles’s girl. Ha!
“Oh, hey. Sorry I was late.” I introduced everyone and soon Hunter had us at a private table playing blackjack.
I was losing my shirt.
Miles kept trying to give me signals when to hold and when to take another card, but I wasn’t really able to fully concentrate. Had to be that golden stuff.