Paris, Adrift Read online

  A young man in a tux, his tie hanging loose around his neck, his collar open, bumped into Juliana. He pressed his hips against hers, grinning, “Well, hello there, doll,” he slurred, expelling his alcohol breath all over her. He put his hands on her waist and grinded himself against her. “Tight space, honey.”

  Juliana, her arms filled with flowers, her hatbox, and handbag, looked him right in his eyes. “Take your person off my person. Now.” There was no hint of humor in her voice. “Or you will soon find my knee in your person.”

  Max yanked the guy back by his shoulders. “Get your hands off my wife, buddy.”

  “She’s your wife? Gosh, you are one lucky son-of-a-gun.”

  “Yes, I am. Now get lost.”

  The guy staggered away to be swallowed up in the crowd.

  “Your wife?” Juliana said with raised eyebrows.

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it? A little gratitude might be nice.”

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with a wife.”

  “You see, Al? See how she talks to me?”

  “Come on you two,” I said. “Play nice.” I guided our group as we slid along the wall past the crowds and found our door.

  We entered the sitting room portion of our stateroom. I set the champagne bottles on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. A steward dashed in with vases for Juliana’s flowers and those got placed around the room. More stewards arrived with more flowers and more bottles of champagne and baskets of fruit.

  I ran to see the bedroom. It had two large double beds. Well, we won’t need two of them, I thought.

  “Well?” Juliana said from behind me.

  “It’s . . . well gee, Jule, it’s magnificent.”

  “Come, look here.” She went to the curtains and pulled them aside to reveal two portholes. I threw off my shoes, jumped on the bed, and looked through one of them. “You can see outside.”

  “Uh, huh. And there’s another two under this curtain and three more in the other room.”

  I sat on the bed. “Juliana.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing. I wanted to say your name.”

  She smiled. “We better go out and entertain our guests.”

  Our guests? Our guests.

  * * *

  We had a few more hours of noisy people chattering and drinking in our stateroom before the ship took off. I couldn’t wait for this part to be over, so I could be alone with her.

  Juliana, of course, was the perfect hostess. The whole time she had a few men gathered around her flirting. She flirted back, but that was her job. I wanted her to do that.

  Max was the life of the party, making pains to meet people who would be good for business. Both of us met lawyers and their wives, and art dealers, and their wives and financiers and their wives. Even the Baron and Baroness Kronecker of Belgium stopped by our stateroom. They were making their seventieth crossing and were trying to meet everyone. Scott got back from supervising the storage of the instruments and stood in the doorway. I had to coax him into the room. He was never comfortable at these types of gatherings, but he was looking more sullen than usual, and that made me worry.

  When the time to leave drew near, I watched Max and Scott retreat from the others and light up cigarettes. They stood as close to each other as decorum would allow two men to stand. They restrained themselves from even the slightest, inconsequential touch. We all did that. It was automatic to turn off our true selves when in a room filled with straights. And this room was bulging with straights, so we were all on guard.

  “Max,” I said, going over to them. “You’re not going to see Scott for five months. Why don’t you go in the other room and give him a proper goodbye?”

  “You think I should?” Max asked, looking hopefully at Scott.

  “It’s too risky,” Scott said. “Someone could see us go in there and easily put two and two together.”

  “Everyone’s too drunk to care,” I said.

  “No, Al. Thanks for the offer,” Max said, “but I think Scott’s right. It’s too risky.”

  “And it could impact Juliana,” Scott said. “If her public thought she hired, you know . . .”

  “Damn,” I sighed.

  “Yeah, damn,” Max said.

  The ship’s whistle blew and a voice over the loud speaker said, “All ashore who’s going ashore.”

  Juliana and I stood by the door shaking hands and saying thank you as people said their goodbyes. Mercy handed Juliana the box she’d been carrying around with her. “Here. This is for both of you from Shirl and me. Enjoy, but open it when you’re alone.” Juliana put it on the table next to a fruit basket. Mercy hugged and kissed us. “Have a terrific time, and when you get home, I’ll make a special dinner. You’ll tell Shirl and me all about it.”

  When I turned, I saw Max and Scott through the full-length mirror that hung between the sitting room and the bedroom. They were shaking hands. “Juliana, it looks like everyone has left.” I nodded over at Scott and Max.

  “Yes.” She looked at them quickly, and back at me. She said loudly, “Let’s go out on deck. There’s at least a half an hour before the ship leaves. This door locks automatically.”

  We closed the door behind us as we went.

  Out on deck, we hung over the side and yelled down at the people on the pier. The stewards handed out streamers and we threw them at the crowds below. Mercy with her own personal bag of streamers was throwing them up at us.

  The orchestra played rousing tunes as we cheered. Shortly, Scott joined us on deck while Max ran down the gangplank. He stood next to Mercy, waving from the pier.

  The ship’s baritone whistle penetrated through the cheers as it slowly rumbled away from the dock, kicking up a strong breeze.

  I felt the vibrations under my feet. “We’re moving, Juliana. We’re going to Paris. We really are.” I think I might’ve been jumping up and down by that time. The orchestra burst into, “Anchors Aweigh.”

  “Yes, Country Girl.” Juliana smiled. “We’re going to Paris because you planned it. Remember?”

  Gosh, I wanted to kiss her right then.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t.” I threw down four of my hats and three single mismatched gloves.

  “What’s the matter?” Juliana asked, stepping into the bedroom.

  “Look at you. You’re dressed and beautiful. It was a piece of cake for you, but me? Look at me.” I was still only in my bra and girdle. One stocking was hooked, while the other wilted around my ankle. I looked down at the mass of clothes I had spread over the two beds, the floor, and the vanity. “What’s supposed to go with what? Do I have to do this every day?”

  “Most nights, dinner will be formal. A cruise ship is a pretty formal place. I’ll help you.” She took off her gloves, dropped them on the vanity, and sorted through the mass of gowns that I’d thrown all over the place; she hung most of them in my trunk. Our trunks stood five feet tall and were pressed against the wall; they opened outward like closets. She pulled a gown from its hanger and gathered up a hat and a pair of gloves. Magically, every item matched the way it was supposed to. “I don’t understand why this has you all upset,” she said. “You’ve been to formal dinners before.”

  “Yes. And Max always told me which one dress went with which one hat and one pair of gloves. I’ve never had to deal with this many dresses all at the same time, along with all these gloves and hats. And shoes! I forgot shoes.” I ran to the trunk, yanked open a few of the bottom drawers, and threw shoes into the middle of the room. “Which shoes? Which ones, Jule? I can’t figure it out. There’s something wrong with me.” I plopped onto the bed with a thud.

  She laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Here, put your gown on; I’ll lay your gloves and your hat on
the vanity, so you can find them. These shoes will go perfectly with this outfit. Lavender is a good color for you. You’ll look lovely. But hurry. Scott will be here soon.”

  “Let’s open our present from Shirl and Mercy,” I said, pulling a slip over my head.

  “I don’t think there’s time. Scott will be here in a minute.”

  “So? He’ll wait while we open it.” I hooked up my second stocking.

  “I have a feeling it’s something we wouldn’t want to open in front of Scott.”

  “No kidding?” I pulled my dress over my head and stepped into my shoes. “Then we definitely have to open it now.”

  “I don’t know, Al.”

  “Oh, come on. How can you stand it?” I ran into the other room to get it.

  “No. Let me,” she said, following me into the other room. She picked up the package.

  I sat beside her on the couch. “Do you know what it is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “What?”

  She slipped off the ribbon and pushed a fingernail under the seal of the wrapping paper. I noticed that she’d let her nails grow long. That seemed strange since we were going to have lots of time together. Oh well, she’d file them later that night. Inside the box, the gift was covered with white tissue paper. Juliana turned away from me, looked in the box, and closed it again. “Yes. I was right. Stand up so I can see how you look.”

  “What is it?”

  “Not something you’d be interested in.”

  “How do you know? Tell me what it is.”

  “A dildo. All right?”

  “You mean one of those, uh, uh. . .” I made a gesture depicting a, well, you know, with my hand.

  “Yes.”

  “What’d they give us that for?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, but we never. . .”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “That’s Scott. Answer the door. I’ll put this away.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Not now.” She walked into the bedroom.

  “Have you ever. . .?”

  “Are you going to leave Scott standing in the hallway? That’s rude.”

  I opened the door.

  * * *

  The dining room was quietly opulent with white columns and a two-story vaulted ceiling. The floor was a glistening polished black. Each table had three red roses in the center, along with highly polished silverware and folded linen napkins with the imprint of the ship’s logo. A huge sculpture of four women who looked like they might be goddesses extended toward the high ceiling. I’d heard that the art work and the furnishings had all been designed by two women. Women! The thought made me proud. The orchestra in the balcony played softly in the background.

  Our waiter guided us toward a table, but before we reached it, a few people hurried over to Juliana. “Oh, Juliana,” one chubby woman in a pink gown that showed too much cleavage said. “When I heard you were going to be on this ship, I thought I’d perish, just perish. I told my husband, Oscar—oh well, you don’t want to hear about him. Will you be singing on the ship?”

  “No, I’m a passenger like everyone else, and right now I’m a hungry passenger, so if you’ll excuse me. . .”

  I tried to get between Juliana and the woman, but the woman’s elbow somehow made its way to my stomach. “I must have your autograph,” she oozed.

  “Certainly,” Juliana said. “Do you have something you want me to write on?”

  “Of course,” the woman giggled. “You’d need that, wouldn’t you? Can’t write on the air. But I don’t seem to have . . . I left my purse back at the table with Oscar.” She flapped her arms around. “Oh, there must be something, something . . . Yes!” She whisked a folded linen napkin from one of the tables. “This.”

  “Oh, uh, well, mightn’t someone need that?” Juliana asked.

  “Oh, poo, they can get another. When do I get a chance to have the real Juliana give me her autograph? Won’t you, please?” She held the napkin toward Juliana.

  “A pen?”

  “Here you go,” Scott said, taking one from his inside pocket. What a terrific idea inside pockets were.

  Juliana quickly scribbled her name across the napkin, trying to stay calm when I knew she would’ve rather bopped the woman.

  “I loved you at the Latin Quarter two years ago,” the woman said, taking back the napkin.

  “Thank you.”

  “And so did Oscar.” She flexed her eyebrows up and down. “If you know what I mean. You gave us a such a nice night that night.”

  “Glad I could be of help,” Juliana said. Scott took Juliana’s arm and moved her away from the bottleneck of people who were beginning to gather.

  We had almost made it to our table when the captain of the ship appeared. “Miss Juliana,” he said, standing at attention. “I’m Commodore Jonathan Black.” He was a slender man, not too tall, with gray hair. His uniform was an impossibly spotless white. “I wonder if you would do me the honor of joining me at my table tonight.”

  “Well, that’d be lovely,” Juliana said, “but I’m here with . . .” She turned toward us.

  “Sir,” Commodore Black said, eye to eye with Scott. “Would you mind terribly if I borrowed Miss Juliana for a mere hour or two?”

  “Uh, me?” Scott said, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Thank you, sir.” He nodded at Scott and me and put out his arm for Juliana to take. “I saw you, my dear, at the Copa last year and I was whisked away.” Then he whisked Juliana away.

  “Why’d he ask you?” I said to Scott as we were about to take seats at our assigned table.

  “Because I’m a man. Sit down. The waiter’s waiting.”

  “But I hired you,” I said as the waiter pulled out my chair for me. “Doesn’t that make me your boss and Juliana’s, too? Shouldn’t I be deciding these things? She needs rest.”

  Scott shrugged his shoulders as he sat and opened his menu. “Technically my boss is Richard. Juliana’s too. He’s the one who signs the checks.”

  “But you know it’s me who does the work.”

  “But Captain Black doesn’t know that.” He studied his menu.

  “So, he assumed you, of course, were in charge.”

  “Of course.”

  “That makes me livid.”

  “Al, forget it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not to you, it isn’t. You’re a man, but . . .”

  “Calm down. You’re going to burst something. Look at this delicious menu. It’s just the way things are. You can’t change it. Be glad you’re on this beautiful ship with this wonderful air-conditioning and not sweating in New York.”

  The waiter still stood at our table, waiting—I guess waiting for us to take a breath. He turned toward Scott. “Would the lady and gentleman care for an aperitif?”

  “You want something, Al?”

  “Not now.”

  “No thanks,” Scott said to the waiter. “We’re going to look over your entrèes.”

  “Very well, sir.” He nodded his head and left us.

  “The smoked Irish sturgeon might be a nice appetizer,” Scott said. “What’s important is that Juliana is getting noticed. Isn’t that why you put this whole thing together? To rebuild Juliana’s confidence and career?”

  “Yes,” I sighed, taking off my gloves. “You’re right. That’s what’s important.” I opened my menu. “What do you think about the braised smoked ox tongue?”

  “It makes me want to be sick,” Scott said.

  “Well, that’s not good.”

  “No. I’ll stick with something I know like the salmon steak.”

  I watched Juliana flirting with all the men at
the captain’s table. I worried she wouldn’t pay enough attention to the women, but they were oohing, aahing, and giggling over her, so I figured she had the situation under control.

  “Is that Cary Grant sitting at the end of the captain’s table?” I asked.

  Scott turned in his chair to look. “I think so.”

  * * *

  The Meyer Davis Orchestra played “Autumn Leaves” as we entered the ballroom with its crystal chandeliers glistening down from the ceiling like raindrops. Women in a bouquet of reds, yellows, greens, and blues floated across the floor on the arms of men in black tuxedos. We’d left Juliana in the dining room still talking to the entranced Captain Black at his table. Cary Grant had left.

  “Do you think she’ll sleep with him?” I whispered to Scott.

  “Who? Cary Grant?”

  “No. From what I hear, he’s one of the few who wouldn’t be interested. I meant the captain.”

  “No. Stop thinking like that. She’s married. Dance with me.” He scooped me up in his arms and foxtrotted me out to the center of the crowded dance floor.

  “How are you, Scott?”

  “Did I step on your toe?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you asking me that?”

  “I worry about you.”

  “Please, don’t. I’m fine.”

  “Was it wrong of me to take you away from Max?”

  “Of course, it was.” He smiled as he swung me around, stopping in mid-swing. “Did you hear that? That trill the pianist just played.” He sighed and started dancing again.

  A dark-haired man in a tuxedo came up behind Scott and tapped him on the shoulder. “May I?” he asked.

  Scott said, “Sure.” And backed away.

  “But Scott, I should stay with you.”

  “Have fun.” He stepped off the dance floor and my eyes followed him over to the bar. The man clasped me so tightly to his chest, I could hardly breathe. “Hello, I’m Dan Schuyler,” he said.