“That’s more like it!” Romeo cheered.

Madison and Kamiko chuckled.

I handed Romeo his pen and he capped it before shoving it in his pocket. He pulled his smart phone out of his other pocket and snapped a picture. “For posterity,” he smiled at me, “And my blog.”

He stepped carefully off the bed and helped me down. “I still can’t get over how fancy this yacht is,” he said. “It’s some kind of James Bond boat. I keep expecting Tiffany to strut in wearing a bikini, carrying a loaded harpoon gun like that Octopussy chick.”

“What’s an octopussy?” Madison giggled.

“Haven’t you seen that James Bond movie?” Romeo asked.

“No,” Madison answered.

“You mean Octiffany,” Kamiko suggested. “She totally has eight arms she uses to snare her unsuspecting prey and eat them alive with her toothy maw.”

I think watching Adventure Time all the time had finally gone to Kamiko’s brain in all the wrong ways.

Madison laughed. “Which maw?”

“Ewwww,” Romeo grimaced. “You girls are gah-ROSS! But, what I want to know is,” Romeo giggled in anticipation of his own joke, “does she squirt black ink from her pooter or her pooper?” In one motion, he whipped open the cabin door and turned to face us.

Kamiko’s mouth dropped open with a clank, totally unhinged.

Madison appeared to suddenly throw up in her mouth, but held it in because she had too good a manners to barf on someone else’s boat.

I goggled, fearing imminent execution. I think Madison, Kamiko, and myself were in too much shock to speak.

Tiffany stood in the hallway, a few paces behind Romeo, holding a drink in her hand.

How long had she been outside the door?

Romeo blundered blissfully forward, completely unaware of Tiffany’s presence. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, having missed our collective horror. “I’m going with an ink-shooting pooter, because you know that girl has a hollowed out vaj. Plenty of room for extra ink. And mice. Her stench trench has seen so much action, it must be like a wind tunnel in that thing. What do they call that subway tunnel from England to France?”

“The Chunnel,” Tiffany said stiffly from behind Romeo.

“That’s right, the Chunnel,” Romeo chuckled, completely lost in his own mirth. “Tiffany’s fun tunnel could accommodate a high-speed train. What the—!”

Tiffany’s drink dribbled over Romeo’s head.

“You’re ruining my hairdo!” Romeo squealed, flicking fingers across his coiffed faux-hawk. “What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you, you nasty little man?!” Tiffany seethed victoriously. “You’re all wet now, Mr. Funnyman.”

Romeo narrowed his eyes at Tiffany. “I would never hit a lady,” he said threateningly. “Luckily, you aren’t a lady!” Tiffany flinched when he raised his open hand in a quick jerky motion, but he merely smoothed his wet hair against his scalp.

I repressed a disappointed sigh. I hoped sooner or later somebody would give Tiffany a good bitch slapping. It would have to wait.

With confident panache, Romeo sucked the dribbles of Tiffany’s drink from his fingertips. “Is that a mojito?” he asked thoughtfully. “It could use more mint. This simply won’t do.” He carefully removed the highball glass from Tiffany’s fingers. “Let me get you another.”

She was too stunned to object.

Romeo arched his eyebrow suavely. “I’ll speak with the bartender and have him mix a proper one for you. Shaken, not stirred.” He motioned toward Kamiko, “Miss Moneypenny, help me find Q. He’ll know the correct ratio of gassed water to rum, I think.” He gave Tiffany a cordial beauty-contest smile and squeezed past her, heading toward the stairs, Kamiko in tow.

Tiffany folded her arms across her chest and stared at me and Madison. “Your friend’s an ass.”

I grabbed Madison by the hand and we slid around Tiffany. “And that’s why we love him,” I said to Tiffany with a smile before heading upstairs.

On the main level, Romeo shook his head like a wet dog. Mojito droplets sprayed everywhere.

From downstairs, Tiffany’s voice shook the ship, “What did you assholes do to my painting?!!!!!”

“Take that, you twat-waffle,” Romeo muttered triumphantly. “Let’s go, ladies! Our work is done here!” Romeo said nervously.

But there was no place to go beyond that except the cold ocean.

Tiffany thudded up the staircase in her heels.

“I don’t know about you ladies,” Romeo whined, “but I’m swimming for shore before Tiffany Scissorhands snips my balls off!”

CHRISTOS

Tiffany raged like a banshee in the main cabin.

I would’ve been surprised by her behavior, but I knew her better. Tantrums were par for her course.

Even when you knew it was nothing but theatrics, girl screeching grated on the nerves.

Brandon happened to be standing next to me the moment Tiffany’s temper had gone thermonuclear. “What is it this time?” he scoffed.

“She probably found out the bartender is making rum and cokes with generic cola instead of the brand name stuff,” I joked.

“Yeah,” Brandon chuckled.

“Where is that bitch!” Tiffany screeched. “She ruined my painting!”

Brandon stuck his pinky in his ear, wincing. “Did you bring earplugs?”

I laughed. “Sorry, bro.”

“Maybe we should find out what’s wrong, and try to soothe this savage beast.”

“Be my guest,” I said. If I’d learned one thing over the years, it was that Tiffany was never worth the trouble.

“Hey, I’m thinking of everyone else,” Brandon said, patting me on the shoulder. “This is hardly what I’d call a joyous atmosphere. Care to give me a hand?”

“If you insist.” I followed Brandon over to where Tiffany stood surrounded by her sorority entourage.

“I can’t believe what she did!” Tiffany whined.

Her sorority girlfriends hovered around her protectively and nodded mechanically.

Brandon gave me a hesitant look. We both knew I had always been better at talking Tiffany off the ledge.

“What’s wrong this time, Tiffany?” I asked with a blend of friendly compassion and parental amusement. I wanted to send her a signal that her childish behavior was off the scale.

“Your girlfriend ruined my painting!”

“What are you talking about?” That didn’t sound even close to possible.

“You don’t believe me,” she accused. “Fine, I’ll show you.” She took a step forward and stumbled over one of her friends. “Move it!” Tiffany snarled, kicking past her.

The young woman slunk away, eyes bulging in terror.

Tiffany marched downstairs, surprisingly steady on her feet for how much I knew she’d drunk since the New Year’s countdown earlier.

I followed, Brandon behind me. We ended up in the master suite of her yacht. It was her dad’s cabin. I’d hung my portrait of her in this very room myself, several weeks ago, when she’d told me about tonight’s New Year’s Cruise. I’d taken the opportunity to invite myself and some “friends” without telling Tiffany who I planned to bring. I’m sure it irritated the shit out of her to no end that I’d brought Samantha.

Good.

I believed Tiffany would mature as a person if she were forced to deal with more obstacles in her life than she had thus far. Especially recently. She’d become dangerously entitled in the last couple years.

“Look at it!” Tiffany screeched at the painting. “It’s ruined!”

“What?” I wasn’t getting it.

“My painting!”

I always cringed when she called it her painting, like she’d done the work herself. “Am I missing something?”

Brandon chuckled, but covered his flashy smile by stroking his mouth with his hand.

“Shut up, Brandon!” Tiffany roared.

Then I saw it.

I had to hold my breath and clamp my jaw shut. If I tried to breathe, I was going to bust a gut laughing. I’m pretty sure I’d turned red.