The bar was like being inside a delicate mushroom.
With her back to the window, Jenna could almost ignore the rocking. The crossing hadn’t been rough. Just enough to set her stomach on edge.
At least until tonight when it had settled enough for her to crave human contact again.
Except the bar was empty.
Even the bartender had taken a moment or two to notice her. “Miss Rose,” she said, scuttling quickly behind the marble countertop. “Lovely to see you out. Feeling recovered?”
Another reason she hated ships. Couldn’t keep a secret. Hell, she wasn’t even due to perform again until tomorrow. Didn’t even need to miss work and the gossip would still filter its way down before you could even notice.
“Yes,” she said. “Better, thanks.”
The bartender looked at her. A jealous glance? Maybe nothing. “Usual?”
“Something with ginger in it,” said Jenna. “Best be safe.” She half-mockingly patted her stomach.
While she waited for her drink, she glanced around. Still not a soul.
“I’m right, it’s past eight?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s dead. Been like that the last three nights,” the bartender replied. “It’s that Davidoff fellow. He’s been packing out the main theatre so much it’s a wonder the whole ship doesn’t tip over.”
“Davidoff...that weird acrobat guy?” Jenna said, surprised. “But he was-”
“Ridiculous?” The bartender nodded. “We’ve all seen him.” She shook her head. “Don’t know what to tell you. Wait an hour. This place’ll be packed with everyone raving about whatever it is he did.”
“You don’t know?”
“Me? When do I get a chance? I’ve got three more ports before I get a break.”
Jenna shook her head. She’d seen the man when they were first boarding. Scrawny. Bad skin. Worse teeth.
Most of the cruise performers crossed paths from time to time. Even if it was a year or two between, she’d usually recognize everyone - by name if not by face.
“Last minute,” said one of the deck hands, following her gaze. “Heard he worked one of the Mediterranean routes.”
None of that matched with someone overflowing a ship theatre.
Come nine-thirty, the swarm descended.
“Unbelievable,” one said.
“Never seen anything like it,” exclaimed another.
They had sunburned, rosy faces. Wrinkled linen standing in as their “nice” dress for the evening. All breathless with excitement.
A man stumbled up next to her at the bar. She could feel the damp from his sweat through his sports coat sleeve.
“I hear it’s a wonderful show,” she said to him.
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it!” the man panted. “Astounding, truly. Never thought I’d see something like that. Worth the trip itself.”
“I must go,” murmured Jenna. “Tell me more.”
She had the same conversation several times as different patrons came to the bar. All sweating, all out of breath. All variations on amazed, astounded, bowled over.
Not one of them able to cite a single specific detail. Nothing about what had made them feel that way.
“Why him?” Jenna demanded. “How long have I worked with you?”
“I know, I know.” The man was handsome in his white ship’s uniform, even as he retreated from her.
“So?”
“It’s the company,” he said. “New approach to customer enjoyment. A test case.”
“It’s fucking drugs, Terry.”
The man slumped down into the only chair in the small, windowless room.
“I know. They wanted to test it with someone new,” he said. “You, Francesca, most of the others. The regulars have seen you before. They already know if they like you.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything, apparently,” she scoffed.
“No,” Terry said, quickly. “It’s not like that. It needs to be someone new. No pre-existing audience. Otherwise it skews the results.”
“Is he actually any good?” she asked. “Is he in on this?”
“He’s...competent. Daytime slot on one of the Med cruises,” Terry admitted. “And, no, he doesn’t know.”
“He must notice something, though?”
“Hah,” Terry snorted. “We’ve been in ents a long time. When was the last time you heard someone say ‘I don’t know. They just like me too much?’”
Jenna shook her head. “So, what? What happens now they know this works?”
“I think they’ll roll it out slow,” said Terry. “I know they added something in the cruise terms about it - nobody reads them anyway. But I figure they’ll want more lawyers to look at it before they expand.”
“And after that? What happens to us? You, even?”
“I don’t know, Jenna.” He paused. “I think we’re OK for another couple of seasons at least. Maybe three.”
“And then, what? Nothing matters about the show except how it made them feel?”
“Hasn’t it always been like that?”
She stopped. Shrugged. “This isn’t the same.”
“Jesus, Jenna,” said Terry. “You’re a cruise line lounge singer. It’s not the opera.”
“I know,” Jenna snapped. “But people remember me. Or forget me. But, fuck, it’s still me.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Terry said. “It’s the future. They just need more testing.”
Article photo by Steve Davison on Unsplash.