Free Anchors Aweigh - 6 by Kathleen Bacus

think it was safe to turn his back on me after the stunt he’d pulled bringing Manny and Mo onboard to vex my voyage. I imagine he was right.
    It was five of eight when we reached the lounge. Approximately half a dozen couples of various ages were gathered there. Joe gave me another weird look as he and Gram moved into the dimly lit room.
    I hovered in the doorway, eyeing each couple, trying to eliminate them one by one based on my brief glimpse of the desperado. Husband number one seemed way too short. Husband number two: too black. When I came to couple number three, I blinked. The two men stood together—both of considerable size and girth—and one had an arm around the other’s waist. I looked away quickly, in case I got caught staring. I reckoned I could count them out, too. The rest of the couples were viable possibilities—with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Joe Townsend, of course. I’d have recognized Joe’s chicken legs anytime, anywhere.
    I was about to go grab Townsend and explain my dilemma and enlist his aid when a heavy arm dropped over my shoulder.
    “Manny’s been looking for Barbie.”
    I turned and cast an eye up. And up.
    “He has? I mean, you have?” I asked, sucking in a deep breath at the warmth of Manny’s body and getting a snootful of a divine, musky scent exuding from the man in exchange.
    “Manny’s disappointed.”
    “Oh?” I said.
    “He didn’t get to give Barbie a bon voyage kiss.”
    “Oh!” I said again.
    “Manny felt real bad.”
    “Huh?”
    All of a sudden the music was jacked up and a rollicking version of “Here Comes the Bride” began to play. The hostess congratulated the honeymooning couples and welcomed them to the social hour.
    Manny looked confused. “What’s Barbie up to now?” he asked, and I debated how much to tell him. We’d indulged in a little quid pro quo in the past to our mutual benefit, but I didn’t see anything in this little intrigue for Manny. “I thought Barbie’d be hanging out with Rick the Dick.”
    I winced—for several reasons. First off, Manny’s nickname for Rick always prompted this reaction. Second? His remark reminded me that Townsend, who was cooling his heels in an adjacent hotspot and waiting for yours truly to take a turn on the deck, was blissfully ignorant of the fact that my make-believe fiancé was not only on board the ship but mere steps away, his muscled arm hugging me to him.
    Shite.
    “Townsend, uh, met an old friend from college,” I evaded, which was true.
    “Yeah? So what’s Barbie doing at a just married’ get-together?”
    I wondered whether a finely crafted fib would work best or if I should go the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction route. Whatever I did, I needed to do it soon or Townsend would think I’d chickened out in earnest.
    “Would you believe I’m trying to figure out which one of these grooms is hoping to disembark The Epiphany a wealthy widower?” I asked, quickly relaying much the same story I’d shared with Custom Cruise Security Chief Sam Davenport.
    Manny shook his head. “What are the odds?” he said. “So, what’s Barbie’s plan?”
    I then explained my long-shot idea to meet and mingle with the couples and work my “I know who you are and I know what you want to do” magic on the grooms—even though I had no idea who any of them were or what had, individually, brought them on this cruise. At the same time, I told Manny, I’d planned to subtly imply to the brides to watch their backs.
    Manny smiled. “Barbie subtle?” He nodded. “Right. Right.”
    I frowned. “Barbie can do subtle,” I maintained.
    He raised a dark eyebrow. “Barbie’s about as subtle as an iceberg.” I winced. “Give Manny the ring,” he ordered, and lost me.
    “Ring?”
    “Tressa’s engagement ring,” he said. “Give it to me.”
    I could feel my breath hitch in my throat before I expelled the contents of my lungs in a huge, heavy, loud breath.
    Oh. My. Gawd! This was it! Finally! The