Free Anchors Aweigh - 6 by Kathleen Bacus Page B

don’t suppose any of you might be in the market for a great policy,” I said, and witnessed another collective step back. “Oh, I know. I bet you all think you don’t need life insurance and that you’re going to live forever, but one never knows what could happen from one moment to the next. Especially on a cruise ship. You know, out on the high seas. Far from home. Unfamiliar surroundings. Changing jurisdictions. Anything could happen. You’ve seen the tabloid stories. Disappearing spouses. Wheelchairs overboard. Stingrays jumping into boats. A person must always be on their guard. Remain alert and vigilant and at all times be aware of your surroundings.”
    I stopped to get my breath before continuing: “So? Anyone here have a good, hefty life insurance policy with reasonable premiums they’d like to brag about, because I guarantee I can beat your agent’s price and benefits. Come on. Anybody? Anyone at all? I’m here to tell each of you that what I know could be a real lifesaver.” I gave each couple a long, considering look. An awkward pause followed my sales pitch improv
    So much for subtlety.
    “Easy, sweetheart, easy,” Manny squeezed my hand. “All work and no play makes Barbie…scary,” he said.
    The group laughed and seemed to relax.
    “Haa haa.” I joined in the laughter, draining my glass of bogus bubbly, feeling like the Midwestern version of Bridget Jones. I looked up and caught Joe’s speculative eyes on me from across the room.
    Ohmigawd! Rick!
    I slapped my drink in Manny’s hand. “Sorry! Call of nature!” I said. “Back in a flush!”
    I shook my head. I’d jumped from Bridget Jones to Mrs. Doubtfire in less time than it took my gammy to scurry out of sight when the minister came to call.
    I hurried out of the Stardust, checking my watch as I jogged towards the Pirate’s Cove. Eight-fifteen. Fashionably late. Still, early for me.
    I discovered Townsend at a booth several tables back. “I am so sorry!” I said, sliding into the booth across from him. “It took longer to pull myself together than I anticipated,” I explained. “The hair, you know.”
    His gaze slid over the top of my head, down to my Pretty in Pink T-shirt, and back up to my face, settling on my eyes. His own were bright and feverish, I thought. His expression was appreciative.
    “You’re well worth the wait,” he said, his scrutiny intense.
    “Thank you, kind sir,” I replied, feeling an intense attack of nervous stomach. Nervous, empty stomach.
    “Would you care for something to drink?” he asked.
    I thought about the kaka champagne and was ready to pass when I saw his foamy drink. My mouth flew open.
    “Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
    “It depends on what you think it is,” Townsend responded.
    “Is that…beer?”
    Rick nodded.
    “Real beer?” I said.
    Rick nodded again. “Well, light beer,” he clarified.
    I grabbed his glass and put it to my lips and started to drink. After three long swallows, I stopped and belched and wiped the foam from my mouth. “I’m surprised they allowed beer on a No Carnivores Allowed Custom Cruise,” I said, belching again.
    “Well, technically they don’t,” he said. “But I have contacts, remember?”
    The pleasure of the brewski was dimmed by the discovery of the patroness. “Brianna,” I said.
    “Actually, I just happened to mention I could kill for a beer and, voila! Beer!”
    Voila! Since when did Townsend speak French?
    “I don’t suppose you happened to mention it to that cute brunette serving wench with the rather large, er, treasure chest over there?” I said.
    He smiled. “I prefer a sleeker schooner myself,” he said, reaching out to take my hands.
    I suddenly remembered Manny’s ring gracing my left ring finger. I snatched my hands out of Rick’s grasp, placing them in my lap. Townsend stared at me.
    “Anything…wrong?” he asked.
    “Wrong?” I said, desperately trying to pull the ring off my finger. “What could be