Seabound (Seabound Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

“Of course I love
him.” Marianna ran a hand along the grain of their table. A ring with a
transparent blue stone glittered on her finger.

“Does he love you
the way he should?” Neal asked.

He leaned forward
and gripped Marianna’s hand, cutting off the light from her ring. Esther
shifted uncomfortably in her seat and played with the hem of her skirt. They
seemed to have forgotten she was there.

“We have a
partnership, Neal. That’s what marriage is about.”

“But does he make
you happy, in every way?”

“We have an
understanding. We’ve been together for so long.”

“It can’t be right
for either of you.”

“He can
seek—comfort—elsewhere. I understand what he needs. I can do the
same.”

“That’s not good
enough, Marianna. Not for you or for me.”

Esther quickly
drained her glass. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, standing quickly. The blood
rushed to her head a little too fast, the lights swooping slightly around her,
and she blinked. Neither one of them looked at her. “I’m going to get another
drink.”

She left Neal and
Marianna staring intently at each other and stroking each other’s fingers. None
of the people lounging and drinking in nearby chairs looked at them.

The seats were
nearly full, and the lights were dimming. Esther showed her Guest card and
picked up another tiny glass of whiskey from a bar by the door. She glanced
back at Neal and Marianna, then climbed the steps to the balcony. She leaned
against the polished wood railing and sipped her drink. It warmed her as it hit
her throat, drawing heat to the surface of her skin.

She watched the
audience from the balcony. In the middle of the front row of tables below, she
spotted the white crown of Captain Ryan’s hair. His presence was somehow
magnetic, drawing eyes from all over the room. He wore a sparkling white uniform
with braided cord on the shoulders and seemed large and imperious even while
seated. He looked up as another man in a matching captain’s uniform slumped
into the seat next to him. His raven-black hair and uniform were rumpled, and
one of the braids on his shoulder was askew. He leaned over to say something to
Captain Ryan. Then the lights went out.

A rumble like the
sea began, drums from beneath the stage. The cacophony filled the theater,
still in total darkness. A light flickered on in the center of the stage. It
was small at first, but as it started to grow, the crashing music slowly
quieted, as if the sound were receding into the flame, feeding it. All eyes
were on the flame. Slowly, dancers began to appear from the edges of the stage,
materializing from nothing as though risen from the sea. They twisted their
arms in slow, sensuous motions, twirling around each other, melding and
separating like droplets of water. They drew close to the flame, now a bonfire,
and were almost touching it when the drums faded away completely. They froze,
still as ice, then a single cymbal crashed, and the dancers fell backward away
from the flames.

Esther jumped at
the sound of the cymbal and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. She
saw David Hawthorne standing on the other side of a pillar separating two
sections of the balcony. He was turned slightly toward her, but his eyes were
on the performers. Esther looked down again.

The dancers had
disappeared. A troupe of men cavorted across the stage in their place. The
high-energy performance looked like a cross between a fight and a dance. The
men were bare chested, and the light from the bonfire flickered across the
sweat on their skin. Esther leaned forward as they began a series of high,
combative kicks, each landing in the air just above the others’ heads. As the music
played, the dance changed from a combative movement to a synchronized,
symbiotic one. With each step, the men were more closely aligned, until finally
they danced as one.

The music changed;
the men fled, replaced by more performers. This time couples danced together.
The music was unlike anything Esther had ever heard before. It had a rhythmic,
exotic quality that she was sure the
Catalina
’s
instruments couldn’t replicate. She scanned the crowd to see
if Reggie and the other
Catalina
musicians were watching. She spotted Cally staring at the dancers, enraptured.
Esther felt for a moment that she could be carried away by the music too. Dax
was watching Cally and mirrored her reactions smile for smile.

A dancing couple
whirled to the center of the stage, and the others faded into the background.
It was unclear where they had gone because there was no curtain. The steps of
the remaining couple became more intricate, and soon the man was dipping the
woman to the floor, then pulling her up close to his body. She wore a vivid
orange skirt that swirled around her with each movement. The dancers kept their
eyes on each other’s faces even as the crowd applauded.

“Have you seen a
tango before?”

Esther started.
She hadn’t seen David Hawthorne move close beside her. He leaned against the
balcony, also holding a tiny glass of whiskey in his hand. His blond hair
seemed to glow in the light from the stage. Half his face remained in shadows.

“Is that what it’s
called?”

“Tango. Yes, it
originated in Argentina. Those two were competitive dancers before the
disaster. They were taking a cruise to celebrate a recent win. I think they
were cruising on this ship, in fact.”

“No, I’ve never
seen tango before,” Esther said.

“Well, watch. The
ending is the best.”

Esther looked at
David’s face as he turned back to the dancers. There was something strange
about him, something different from the last time they’d met.

He was right about
the ending, though. The man twirled the woman in a seemingly endless tornado,
the music giving her energy like a whirlpool, a vortex, until suddenly he
stopped, lifted her in a graceful arc above his head, and then dropped her
nearly to the floor. The edges of her blue-black hair brushed the stage. He
pulled her slowly, sensually to her feet.

The crowd erupted
in applause. Esther saw Cally jumping to her feet. It would be difficult for
her to go back to her simple life on the
Catalina
after all this.

Esther snuck
another peek at David out of the corner of her eye. His sleeves were rolled up,
revealing an intricate dive watch on his wrist. His shirt was partially
unbuttoned, and his hair was messed up. He didn’t look as elegant as the last
time she saw him. The condescending posture was gone too, and somehow it made
him more attractive. He kept turning his glass in his hands, wiping away the
beads of condensation. There was a blue shadow across the knuckles of his right
hand. He glanced her way, and she quickly looked back at the performers.

The bonfire had
burned low again. Colored lights flickered on one by one around the stage. A
woman stood before the bonfire, a perfectly still silhouette. She was naked,
Esther realized with a jolt. A single violinist walked to the edge of the stage
and sat down. He didn’t look at the woman, swinging his legs slightly as he began
to play. The sound was pure and sad. It carried all the loneliness of a world
destroyed. In the midst of the sadness, a high note sang out, a single ray of
hope in the darkness. As that note grew stronger, the woman began to dance. Her
movements were so slow that Esther wasn’t sure she had moved at all until she
settled into a long, elegant posture, standing on one foot as though she were
about to fly away. As she held her position, a cellist walked onto the stage
and joined the violinist. He played one sonorous note, then another, and
another. As the melancholy of the cello descended on the crowd, a male dancer
floated gracefully down from the ceiling and began a slow, sensual dance in the
air above the fire. The violinist picked up his bow again, and the woman danced
in time to the movements of the floating man. The cello and violin played
together. The song was of longing on a vast, forsaken sea. But the high note
emerged again, and the woman danced up on her toes, reaching up to the soaring
man. He met her in front of the bonfire, tipping his face slowly down to hers.
For a moment, they were one silhouette. Then the man encircled the woman’s
waist and lifted her in his arms. They drifted slowly above the flames.

A soft intake of
breath whispered through the audience. The couple danced a languid, erotic
ballet in the air.

“Beautiful, isn’t
it?” David had moved closer to Esther. She could smell the salt on his clothes.

“Yes,” she
breathed. “It’s all beautiful.”

“They train their
bodies for their entire lives just to be able to move like that for a few
moments. But can you imagine what it must feel like to be up there?”

Esther said
nothing. For a second she pictured herself as the suspended dancer, and David
Hawthorne as her partner. She shook her head to clear the image away, and the
lights swooped again. She’d only seen him in passing since he’d kicked her off
Judith’s personal tour. She was uncomfortable with his familiar way of
addressing her. And yet there was something appealing about his attention, about
the way he turned toward her as the sparsely dressed couple twirled above the
stage.

The dancers
tangled their legs together. The woman swung downward, suspended upside down
high above the stage. She arched her back gracefully. Esther gasped, checking
to see if the dancer had been attached to a wire when she wasn’t looking.
Surely she wasn’t relying only on her connection at the knees to the other
dancer for her safety?

David touched the
cold edge of his glass against the back of Esther’s hand to get her attention.
“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“I’m watching the
performance.”

But even as she
spoke, the violin and cello players ceased, and the dancers drifted up and out
of sight. The lights brightened. Esther blinked and cleared her throat.

David too seemed
to be composing himself.

“There’ll be a
brief interlude now. Paris likes to extend his evenings for as long as
possible,” David said. “So, how are you finding the
Galaxy
? Does it
enchant you?” He turned toward her, but Esther kept her eyes on the scene
below.

“It’s nice.”

“It’s an
improvement on that ungainly tin can of yours,” he said.

“The
Catalina
has kept us safe,” she said
shortly. “It’s home.”

“If you say so.
Are you enjoying our food? The cooks work magic, even with seafood.”

Suddenly, Esther
turned and glared up at David’s thick black glasses. “Look, Hawthorne, I don’t
want to talk about the food or the tango. I want to know why we haven’t been
able to trade for parts.” Esther had realized quite abruptly that she’d had it
with everyone ignoring her questions. “You give us water but don’t give us a
chance to fix our own water system. You take Judith for these big dinners and
isolate her from anyone who could support her in negotiations and then don’t
even negotiate anything anyway. What’s going on?”

To Esther’s fury,
David laughed. “You’re direct, aren’t you? And I hear you’ve been snooping
around.”

“I want to know
we’re not wasting our time,” she said. How did he know she’d been sneaking
around? Did the man on the tanker know who she was after all?

“I admire you for
taking so much initiative,” David said. “You went straight for the heart with
that tanker stunt. Look, don’t worry about the negotiations. We won’t turn you
away empty-handed. Trust me.”

“Why should I?”
Esther said. “At least let me take a look at your machinist’s stores or
whatever you have.”

“So demanding.”
David chuckled. “I’m sure we have all the equipment you need, and then some.”

 
“I want to see it for myself,” Esther
said, “and I want to talk trade with someone. Whatever happened to that Eugene
guy?”

David grimaced.
“You don’t want to talk to Eugene,” he said, his voice suddenly dark. “Look, if
you want to see the stores, I’ll take you down there myself. At least let me
get you another drink first.”

Esther shoved her
empty glass into his hand and turned her back on him. She felt out of her depth
with David. Why had he come to her this evening?

Below her, the
crowd milled about, collecting refills, stretching their legs, and visiting
each other’s tables. Dax ran a trembling hand through Cally’s hair, but she
seemed distracted by all of the activity. A small knot of people had gathered
around the captains’ table. There were still only two of them. Judith must be
off with the others somewhere, or else she had finally put her foot down and
refused to come out for yet another social evening. Captain Ryan stood to shake
hands with a circle of admirers, but his black-haired companion still slumped
grumpily in his chair. He turned his face for a moment, revealing a scowl. He
hadn’t bothered to straighten his rumpled uniform. If Esther didn’t know
better, she’d have thought he’d just been in a fight.

Paris had returned
to Marianna and Neal’s table. He was waving his arms jovially, addressing
others as they passed his table. Esther couldn’t see Neal’s face, but he seemed
to shrink in on himself. People kept coming up to pat Paris on the back and
shake his hand. They all seemed to have forgotten Esther entirely. It was just
as well. She was pretty certain Neal was headed for a miserable heartbreak. She
didn’t need to witness it.