Down Among the Dead Men (A Thriller) Read Free Page A

wife.
    Maybe “flirt” was too mild of a word. This was an all-out, full-frontal assault.
    “Let’s go dancing. You wanna go dancing?”
    “I-I don’t really dance,” the man said, shooting his wife an awkward glance.
    “Oh? You look like a dancer to me.” Jen reached over and squeezed his bicep. “There’s a lot of muscle under that fancy jacket.”
    The man colored slightly, then shrugged. “I work out.”
    “Ugh,” Jen said, then put her lips to her straw and took a noisy final slurp of her second drink. “I can’t stand working out. The sight of all those treadmills up in the gym gives me hives. If I’m gonna get sweaty it had better be worth my while, if you know what I mean.”
    Her speech was slurred, but she managed that patented Jen fuck-me smile, and Beth wondered what had happened to her newfound lust for Julio.
    “When I need to shed a few pounds,” Jen continued, “I just call the man with the magic wand.”
    The newlywed’s face went beet red then and Jen laughed and shook her head.
    “Not that kind of wand, dummy. My surgeon.”
    “Surgeon?”
    “You know. Liposuction?” She waved an imaginary lipo wand in the air, then turned in her chair, facing him, and leaned back slightly. It was a tricky maneuver for someone so drunk, but she managed to avoid falling on the floor. “Take a guess.”
    “About what?”
    She cupped her breasts through the black fabric of her cocktail dress. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that she needed one.
    “How much you think these babies cost me?”
    Beth pushed her ice cream aside. “All right, Jennifer, that’s enough.”
    Jen shot her a look, then turned again to the newlywed. “Well? How much?”
    Despite his scowling wife, the man stared openly at Jen’s offering, and Beth knew there’d be storm clouds in the honeymoon suite tonight.
    “I dunno. A couple grand?”
    Jen laughed. “A couple grand? Where does your wife get her work done? JC Penney’s?”
    Her voice—almost a screech now—rose above the din of the dining room. Not only were most of the people at the table gaping at her (forks held in suspended animation above their crème brûlées and flourless chocolate cakes), but a few from the adjoining tables were staring as well.
    “Jen, please, you’re drunk. Let’s go back to the cabin.”
    Ignoring Beth, Jen turned to the elderly couple directly across from her and smiled at the silver-haired husband.
    “Tell me the truth now. Do these look like they’re only worth a measly two grand?”
    And with that, she unceremoniously yanked down the top of her dress, exposing herself to their small corner of the world.
     

6  
    S HE THREW UP halfway back to the stateroom. They were on the stairs leading up to Deck Seven when she gripped the rail.
    “Are we swaying? Why are we swaying?”
    Beth steadied her. “We’re on a ship, remember?”
    “Uhhhh. I don’t feel so good. How many drinks did I have?”
    “Before or during dinner?”
    “It’s the rum. I swear to God, I should know better. Rum always knocks me on my ass.”
    “I don’t think your ass is the problem.”
    “Huh?”
    “Never mind,” Beth said. “Let’s just get you into bed.”
    They’d had plans to hit the casino after dinner, then maybe the dance club on the uppermost deck, but thanks to Jen’s overindulgence and sudden need to express herself, it now looked as if Beth would be curling up with a paperback book.
    “What happened back there?” Jen said. “Am I dreaming, or did I flash my boobs again?”
    Again?
    Beth wasn’t aware of any previous boob flashing—unless you counted the teeny-weeny bikinis Jen favored—but then Jen had long been an exhibitionist. If she was drunk enough and some guy pointed a video camera in her direction, she’d surely be the first one to say, Why the hell not?  
    In fact, she probably wouldn’t even have to be drunk.
    “Let’s put it this way,” Beth said. “I’m pretty sure you and your two new friends