The Rock Star Wants A Wife

Part 3

THREE

Never...eating...pancakes...EVER...again, Penny swore, grabbing a wad of paper towel to wipe her face. She rinsed her mouth, then ran the water a little longer, letting it flush away the evidence that she'd thrown up in the sink. This wasn't a normal tequila-induced hangover. She knew that now. Someone must have tried to poison her, either while she was on shore leave or when she got back.

Tess, her roommate. Tess had been angry at her since she caught Tess bonking on her bunk with two of the fitness instructors. As if the girl had any right to be angry when it was Penny's bed she'd been screwing two guys on. Guys who hadn't apologised or even stopped. No, they'd asked her if she wanted to join in.

Double stuffed by the buff personal trainers? It sounded like one of the p**n films in the pay-per-view library the guests got access to. Or one of the e*****a books in the library at the resort where she used to work. Penny had refused, then climbed up to Tess's bunk and tried to fall asleep over the grunting and moaning going on down below.

Tess had threatened to reveal Penny's smoking habit to the staff supervisor if Penny spoke a word about what she'd seen that night. Crew weren't allowed to smoke aboard the cruise ship, though guests could; lighting a single cigarette could lose Penny her job. But some nights when Tess was too loud with her boyfriends, Penny would dress in civilian clothes, hike up to the highest deck and breathe in as much tarry goodness as she could suck into her lungs. No one recognised her in the dark, or so she'd thought. God, she wanted one now, to burn the taste of bile out of the back of her throat.

"You're fired."

Penny lifted her impossibly heavy head to peer blearily at Pierre. Poiter. "What for?"

Pierre sniffed. "For showing up to work with a hangover again. I told you, I don't tolerate staff who drink to excess before a shift. You are here to cook magnificent meals, not be sick in the sink."

"I didn't drink a lot last night. I'm sick," Penny insisted, as fear clutched at her heart. She couldn't lose this job. No one else would take her if Pierre fired her. She'd never be a proper chef.

"Your roommate says you were so sick last night, she had to go to the next room to use the bathroom. Don't lie to me. You are a disgrace!" Pierre roared.

Maybe she did have a hangover. Her head sure hurt when he shouted like that. "I'm sick," she mumbled.

"When the ship docks in port, you will leave it. Until then, report to the housekeeping manager. If you're not working on the ship, you'll have to pay for your passage." Pierre's malevolent smile made her teeth hurt.

Pay? Penny didn't have the money to pay for luxury cruise ship accommodation. Why else had she been drinking tequila last night? If she'd been able to afford better, she'd have been drinking it. "No. Just...let me work until we reach port. I won't drink any more. I promise." She wouldn't keep a drink down, anyway.

"You're not working in my kitchen!"

He was a god-damn drama queen. "Fine. How about here, then? I'll wash dishes?" She pointed at the benchtop dishwasher and the sinks big enough to stand in. She'd worked plenty such shifts when she was in high school. Anything was better than paying for things she couldn't afford.

He eyed her for an interminable moment. "Very well, then. But if I find a single plate that is not perfectly clean..." He shook his fist.

Penny nodded, not really caring. As soon as he was out of sight, she slithered down the wall to sit on the floor. How was she supposed to wash dishes when she was too weak to stand?

Didn't matter, she told herself, grabbing the edge of the sink to hoist herself up again. She'd lean on that for the whole shift if she had to. At least she had plenty of places to be sick if she needed. Drains galore.

A grim smile graced her lips as the first cart of dirty dishes arrived.

She got to work, loading the plates into the dishwasher, then unloading them onto the drying cart, where they'd stay for barely long enough to drip dry before the kitchenhands came to collect them for the next wave of breakfast customers. With every clink of a plate settling in its rack, Penny's fury built.

When she found out who'd poisoned her, she'd make her pay, Penny swore.