The Lion's Den(13)

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, making a vow to myself to let go of the whole rear-facing nausea-inducing shit storm that was the oh-so-perfect start to this “dream trip,” and spend the next seven days playing my part in Summer’s extravaganza.

I push up the sleeping mask to see Amythest’s glittery purple toenails three inches from my face. At least they’re pedicured. I instinctively pull my knees into my chest, realizing if her toes are on my pillow, mine are probably on hers. She must have the same thought, because she simultaneously jerks her feet away and our knees ram into each other.

“Ow!” We squirm to sit up. Our eyes meet and we laugh. “Sorry,” we say at the same time.

“How you feeling?” she asks.

“I think I got three hours. But I’m not nauseous anymore, so that’s good.”

The cabin is still configured for sleep, with all the seats converted to single beds barely big enough to hold two girls. On the berth behind us, Brittani and Rhonda are still dozing, and across the aisle from us, Wendy and Claire are waking up as well.

Wendy pushes up her sleep mask and stretches, looking refreshed. “Oh my God, I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in years! How’d you guys sleep?”

“Fine.” I force a smile.

“I could sleep another eight hours.” Claire yawns, lying back down.

Wendy claps her hands, ever perky, and pulls Claire up. “Oh no you don’t!” she chirps. “Private airports in vacation destinations this time of year are a total scene. We’ve got to freshen up before we land.”

As Wendy unwinds her navy silk hair wrap, I notice her makeup is unsmudged, and her face shows no signs of pillow creasing, “But you’re already fresh,” I grumble. “How is it possible? It’s like you’re a fucking unicorn.”

“It’s this pillowcase,” she says, removing the satin cover from the pillow and folding it neatly. “Keeps your skin and hair from creasing.” She tucks it in her travel bag, hops out of bed, and spritzes her hair with a travel-size bottle of leave-in conditioner.

“I don’t know how I live with you.” Claire moans, curling up on the bed.

The younger stewardess comes down the aisle with a tray of fresh coffee and sets it on the table near the divider between Summer and John’s half of the plane and ours. “If you could all have a seat at the table, we’ll prepare the plane for landing.”

We make our way over to the table, and I quickly sit down on the forward-facing side, next to Wendy. The stewardess hands us each an immigration form to fill out, and a stapled legal document. I scan the document, emblazoned at the top with LIONSHARE HOLDINGS. It’s a nondisclosure agreement.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s an NDA. Standard procedure. I’ll need it returned before deboarding,” the stewardess says.

I turn my gaze back to the document, alarm bells ringing in my head.

“Excuse me,” Wendy calls to the stewardess, distressed. “It says here no photography. Does that mean we can’t take any pictures?”

The stewardess freezes, a deer in headlights. “Um, I don’t…”

Vinny steps in. “No photos of John or any of his associates.” I look up, surprised. I hadn’t seen him, but there he is, hovering behind us. “And anything taken on the boat or the plane will need to be approved by one of us before posting publicly.”

We all nod uneasily.

Wendy makes a show of scribbling her name and handing it over, and the rest of the girls follow suit. I’m still less than comfortable signing, but I don’t want to rock the boat before the trip’s even truly begun, so I do it, providing my parents’ address and phone number as my emergency contact.

Wendy eyes me over her compact as she touches up her foundation. “You sure you slept okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I threw up my sleeping pill,” I confess, “so it took me a while to get to sleep.”

She hands me her makeup bag. “The little green tube is eye depuffer.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze a dot of the cream on my finger and gently apply it beneath my eyes.

“You can keep it,” she says. “I never use it.”

“Must be nice,” Summer says.

We look up to see her standing behind us in the open doorway between her section and ours, freshly showered.

“I’ll tell you what must be nice,” Wendy teases. “A shower.”

“You’ll have one as soon as we get to the boat.” Summer squeezes in next to Wendy and me. “Can you pass me one of those coffees?”

Brittani slides her a coffee and she takes a sip. “Mmmm.” She leans in to Wendy and me, speaking under her breath. “I had to have sex with John twice before we could go to sleep. He accidentally took a Viagra instead of his sleeping pill.”

“Accidentally?” I chide.

“Seriously,” Summer says. “He’s blind as a bat without his glasses, and he left them up front.”

“Maybe I should slip Wes a Viagra,” Wendy comments.

“You guys still aren’t having sex?” I ask.

“He’s just so stressed over work, he doesn’t feel like it. But he bought me these shoes for the trip. Said every girl needs a pair of Louboutin wedges to go to Europe in the summer. How sweet is that?”