RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

7. Deck 11

Marisa and Marco remained quiet. A woman approached the table, and before even identifying her, Marisa recognized her dress. It was a lilac strapless model with a round skirt identical to hers.

"Zoe!"

"Your talk about the festival made me feel like embarking too. I still have a feel days free and thought: why not?" She also noted Marisa's dress. "It looks like we decided to wear the same clothes we've bought together. What a gaffe."

Laughing, Marisa introduced her to Marco. The two exchanged a cordial nod and Zoe appraised him discreetly, cataloging his face, thin cotton gray T-shirt and black jeans conveying a pair of long legs. Marisa assumed her friend recalled what she had confided about her intimacy with Marco and, embarrassed, spoke with excessive eloquence, her voice one tone higher than usual: "We can make a splash as a duo at the karaoke bar."

"That would be hilarious. By the way, aren't you guys going to the opening show on Deck 11?"

Marisa and Marco exchanged a look. In the heat of their argument, they had forgotten about the show. It was past five-thirty and it should start in twenty minutes. Marco told them to go ahead of him while he finished his drink. Marisa stared at Marco with an uncertain expression, but his face was inscrutable. A wave of melancholy washed over her.

— Let's go then? — Zoe insisted.

— You'd better hurry, Mari — said Marco.

She acquiesced and followed her friend. As she walked away, Marisa noticed Marco no longer looked at her.

On Deck 12 an elevated platform with white and blue fanions skirted the perimeter of the main pool on Deck 11, converging to a busy bar. Stairs positioned on the platform vertexes gave access to the swimming pool area where the stage was. Marisa and Zoe zigzagged among the crowd on the platform, squeezed themselves into a spot near the stage and bent over the guardrail under the fanions swaying in the wind. The air carried perfume, sweat, hot dog vapors and an unruly joy.

Down there, the pool area swarmed with the audience in transit between two hot tubs and the snack bar facing the stage on the opposite end of the pool. The sun already declined in the sky when the band stepped into the scene, first the rhythmic base with drums, bass and percussion, and lastly a male and a female singers—a tall blue-eyed man in colorful shorts with a Panama hat, and a dark woman with braided hair in jean shorts and a golden tank top. He teased the audience, she dialogued with the instruments. Dub-duh-dah, dub-duh-dah.

The acid jazz became alchemy, consubstantiating the spectators into one single organism that palpitated in unison, arms stretched in a thousand tentacles against the twilight sky. On the elevated platform, amid cries, claps and whistles, Marisa began to worry. The concert entered the second half and no sign of Marco. Where was he? She surveyed the four corners of the platform, the bar and the snack bar. Nothing. Recalling Marco's glacial countenance, she grew remorseful for leaving him on his own in the Moon Rock Club.

And nonetheless, he was the one insisting she went ahead of him. Her remorse actually originated prior to the Moon Rock Club, a remorse at feeling responsible for the deterioration of their relationship. Marisa's thoughts dispersed when the male singer summoned the audience to improvise with the female vocalist, who at each verse would point the microphone to the passengers for them to sing along.

It's time to have a blast

Time to get ahead

Time to be strong

Time to go beyond...

... and beyond, beyond, beyond! everybody chanted. A rain of confetti sprinkled color on the audience as the band invited: Stage invasion, stage invasion! Zoe took Marisa by the hand and they treaded their way downstairs. Near the stage, a blond with a goatee pulled Marisa for a dance and twirled her left and right. She saw the surroundings parade before her eyes increasingly fast and the stage increasingly farther away. Off they went twirling and twirling. Sky, stage, pool, sky, bar, the unshakable whizz of the mob, the volume of the music snaking up and down according to the progress of their circumvolutions. The number ended with a crash of cymbals, and in a triumphal closing act the stranger almost planted a kiss on Marisa's lips.

She repelled the man, lost her balance, the stranger cut her fall short, Marisa held onto him. The two teetered in slow motion and fell, fell, fell. In the pool. They tumbled into the shallow, not that it made any difference. Beyond herself, Marisa turned to him and became aware of two facts. First, he wore a yellow T-shirt imprinted in bold letters: The most interesting man in the world. Second, he studied her figure under the wet dress. Marisa's hand flew to the man's face, eager to smack off his goatee.

He dodged, shielding himself with one arm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw you in the water."

Marisa smelled tequila on his breath.

"What do you think you were doing to... With what right..."

Straightening up, the man racked off a long tuft of hair stuck to his face like an eye patch. He vacillated, embarrassed, and reached out for Marisa.

"Let me help you get out of the water. It's the least—"

"If you come near me I swear this time I won't miss the target."

Marisa collected the leftovers of her dignity and stepped out the pool with her head held high. A generous puddle formed at her feet when she wrung out the hem of her dress. Meanwhile, three teenage boys cracked up watching the scene with stifled laughter. Zoe came to Marisa's rescue and they cracked up at the sight of them in identical clothes.

"What happened?" She couldn't hide her astonishment. "I got distracted for a minute and suddenly you were in the pool."

"That retarded guy groped me and we fell into the water." Marisa pointed to the swimming pool, but the man had disappeared. She then vociferated at the teens: "And you over there, enough of that!"

A new explosion of laughter. Zoe brought a towel from a nearby kiosk, offering to accompany her to the cabin. Marisa insisted it wasn't necessary, covered herself with the towel and walked around the snack bar to access the hall where the elevators were located. It led to the Topaz cafeteria, which extended to the bow sided by an exterior patio. Marisa liked the track playing there: Nothing to hide, a revival of the 1960s by Allah-Las. While she waited for the elevator, she sang softly.

I have nothing else to hide... Marisa approached the cafeteria. Tried to cover my tracks... Marisa paused at the entrance. But as they say... Marisa peeked inside. A lie tends to bear short legs... With a startle, she stopped singing.

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As usual, thanks for reading! What's next? Why did she stop singing? Aha...