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My next words, primed for the beginning of a fight, catch in my throat. What does a girl even say to that? What could I possibly do to Nick Madison?
Nick chuckles at the dumbfounded look on my face, puts his hands in his pockets, and saunters past me, toward the stairs to the lower deck. “Come on,” he says. “We’re never going to see the whole ship if you can’t keep up.”
I grind my heel into the deck and then turn on it, walking swiftly after him with what I hope is a look of utmost professionalism on my face. So he wants to toss flirty low balls when I’ve geared up for a ninety-mile-an-hour pitch? I see how it is. Apparently I need to be prepared for anything.
Unfortunately it’s hard to stay on my guard with Nick. He slips into business-as-usual like he slips on those perfectly-tailored suit jackets, taking me across the various decks, through the kitchens and dining areas, down galley halls to game rooms and the daycare center.
At the latter, he pauses and peers into a room painted in bright childish colors, already stocked with toys.
“I suppose this will have to change,” he says.
He’s right. There’ll be no use for childcare on an adults only booze cruise. I glance inside, evaluating the room. It’s big, long with a low ceiling and no windows.
“Any ideas?” I ask him.
“Sex dungeon?”
I choke on nothing and cough. For an instant that cool-gray expression slips into what I can only describe as childlike mischievousness at my reaction. But in a blink it’s wiped away, stored back inside Nick’s steel internal cage.
“No!” I exclaim. “No sex dungeons.”
“It is my boat,” he notes. “Besides, you’re the one who wants to differentiate us. What other cruise can say they have a whole room for ass-slapping, bondage-loving fun?”
I hate that he kinda has a point. That would definitely get us some free advertising on Twitter. Unfortunately, it’s a little too extreme for the vibe I’m trying to promote.
“Why don’t we compromise and have some kind of erotic performance art show? There are a bunch in New York that we could hire. And then we haven’t crossed the line of actively encouraging the passengers to have public sex.”
Nick closes the door but doesn’t move on, instead leaning against the wall and raising an eyebrow. “Only been in the city for less than a week and you’re already going to sex shows?” he asks.
“Okay, I believe I said erotic performance, which is different from a sex show.”
“Name one way.”
“Uh… Artistic integrity?”
“Which means what exactly? That the fucking has an anti-capitalist theme?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But for your information I’m not ‘already going to sex shows’. I’ve barely left the hotel.”
He raises his hands in mock defense. “Forgive me. You seemed like an expert a moment ago.”
I flush and cross my arms. We’re not that far apart and I feel like we need a barrier between us. The hairs on the back of my arms reach out toward him like he’s made of static electricity.
“I’m not,” I say. “But my friend Mickey is.”
“Mickey? That’s the intern you came with?” he asks.
I nod.
“She seems fun,” he says. “Maybe she can get you to loosen up a little bit.”
My mouth drops. “Me?” I say, dumbfounded. “I’m the one who needs to loosen up?”
He shrugs. “I said what I said.”
“That’s pretty ironic considering you have a stick up your ass that could part the Red Sea.” Woof. So much for keeping things professional. I’m pretty proud of my comeback but it falls a bit flat as I’m the one currently standing on my tiptoes in anger while he remains coolly leaning against the wall.
He bends toward me slightly. “If that’s true I wonder how big yours is.”
