The Pleasure Trip

While Rita assured Playboy Joe that no dancer would ever look twice at him again once she spread the word of an unfortunate condition he’d contracted, Harrison noted the name of the yacht emblazoned on the bow. The Over-Under.

“Nice boat.” Harrison interjected while Horatio’s miniharem stepped back, their high heels a chorus of taps on the dock. “You have friends who like the over-under?”

“I’ve got a lot of friends.” Shrugging, he started to follow the females heading up the pier toward a waterfront restaurant and marketplace. “Who knows what they all like?”

Rita’s hand slipped around Harrison’s elbow, reminding him he couldn’t follow up on his instincts about the blackjack dealer now, even if those instincts were blaring loudly in his ear that something wasn’t right.

“Let’s head over to the landing strip and see if she’s there.” Rita’s simple red flip-flops smacked the back of her heels in rhythmic time as she walked the length of the boat with smooth, efficient strides bearing little resemblance to her stage strut of the night before.

Funny how the practical woman appealed to him as much as the fantasy siren. More, even. He appreciated people who valued hard work and family the way he did.

“Done.” Harrison untied their rented vessel and cranked up the engine, figuring the trip over to the landing strip was as good a time as any to let Rita in on his real motives behind taking the cruise. “But once we’re underway, I need you to tell me everything you can about Horatio.”

“Besides that he’s a two-timing snake with no moral system in place?”

Rita seethed inwardly as Harrison guided the craft away from the creep who’d thought nothing of leaving her sister at the altar. Forget that the altar doubled as a gift shop checkout counter. That didn’t diminish the magnitude of Horatio’s desertion in the least.

“Doesn’t it seem strange to you,” Harrison pressed on, “that a lowlife like him could attract not one but three women to keep him company today? He’s running with some big-money friends for a guy who makes pretty average wages.”

“You’re suggesting anyone who works on the Venus must be low-class?” She hadn’t expected economic prejudice from Harrison. He seemed so down-to-earth. So normal.

“Of course not.” He checked the map of Barbados the charter boat captain had given them, the sun casting a glare on the paper no matter where he positioned it. “I couldn’t afford a boat like the one he was on either, but if he doesn’t have any personal charisma and he’s got the morals of a snake as you pointed out, what basis does he have to form a connection with some multimillionaire yacht owner?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of multimillionaires whose morals suck, too.” Rita kept an eye on the coastline, trying to remember where an airport might be, but she’d never made much use of shore time like most of the crew, preferring to sew onboard the ship rather than party in Caribbean clubs.

“My point exactly. And if Horatio is hanging out with those kinds of wealthy, unethical people and sporting a Breitling watch that would be tough to afford on a dealer’s salary, doesn’t that make you suspicious?”

“So you think he’s doing something illegal? When would he have time between working and juggling five different women? The bastard.” Resenting Horatio’s treatment of her sister, she couldn’t get past that anger to think about whatever else he might be doing. “Don’t you hate people who have hidden agendas and stupid little secrets?”

“Uh, in theory, yes.”

“Why can’t people just be honest with each other and say, ‘I have three other women I’m screwing on the side. Would you care to be added to the list, or not?’ That might be skeevy, but at least it’s honest.” Rita knew Jayne had at least made an effort to get her life together over the past six months since she’d really streamlined the number of men she dated. This blow from Horatio had to hurt.

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

The quiet seriousness in Harrison’s tone called her from her sisterly outrage. Then, the stern set to his features as he steered the boat across open water gave her the distinct sense of impending doom.

She so could not handle more bad news today.

“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with three other women?”

“It’s not as bad as that, but I don’t want you to think I have a secret agenda.”

Although she would have rather simply enjoyed the view as the wind plastered Harrison’s shirt to his muscular chest, Rita didn’t mind playing a few rounds of Worst Case Scenario to keep whatever he had to say in perspective. She couldn’t afford to let him hurt her when she could barely stagger through all that she had on her plate.

“Okay, I’ve got it. You introduced yourself to me last night because you have a thing for showgirls and now that you know me for the seamstress I really am, you want out?” She’d known plenty of guys who could only appreciate glitz and glitter and didn’t have a clue about what lay beneath.

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