Part Three

Later comes. The fleeting chance I had at telling Grace is gone. To be fair, Luke and Brandy are a great couple. Luke spends half the dinner gushing over Grace, while Brandy focuses on me. She even breaks into song a few times, belting out lyrics to some of my songs.

She’s obviously had too much to drink, but Grace cheers her on and as depressing as my missed opportunity is, I end up having a great time.

Brandy points to the piano. “Please Chester, won’t you sing for us?”

The restaurant is mostly cleared out, I’m guessing with people having flocked to the ballroom for the second part of our evening. As I’m admiring the piano, I am having a serious internal debate if I should do it or not when Grace smiles from behind the wine glass she has held to her lips. She moves the glass down and mouths the words, “do it, Chester.”

I stand and walk over to the piano, removing my jacket before I sit down and set my hands on the keys. I pause for a moment to gather myself before my fingers begin to fly across the keys. I select one of Grace’s favourite songs.

“The days I can’t see your eyes,

I don’t even want to, open mine,

On the days I can’t see your smile,

Well I’d rather sit, wait the while,

For the days I know you’ll be near,

‘Cause a day without you, just isn’t fair.

See the days I can hear your voice,

I’m left without a choice,

Plus I get weak in the knees,

Fall head over heels baby,

And every other cheesy cliche,

Yes I’m swept off my feet,

Oh my heart skips a beat,

But there’s really only one thing to say,

God damn you’re beautiful to me,

You’re everything, yeah, that’s beautiful,

Yes to me,

Ooh oh,  

I dare a glance at our table. Brandy has her eyes closed, her hands crossed over her chest, swaying back and forth in time with the music. Grace’s eyes are glued to me, it should make me nervous, but it doesn’t. I don’t look back down at the piano, instead fixing my gaze on Grace.

I can’t find the words to explain ,

Yeah, just how much you got me going insane,

When you speak to me sometimes we fight,

Oh I stutter my words and say never mind,

She holds up her fingers to her lips, kisses them and sends them over in a wave. The small action almost makes me stumble but I regain my composure enough to finish the song. When I return to the table, Brandy is swiping at her eyes with a linen napkin, staining it with dark mascara. “Grace, you’re so lucky.”

Luke looks momentarily offended until Brandy continues, “Chester loves you so much.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” Luke declares, taking her by the arm.

She shakes it loose. “Yeah, but it’s painfully obvious.”

“C’mon Brandy,” Luke implores. “Mind your business.”

Grace blinks. “Chester is my best friend,” she says, “We’re just friends.”

“He loves you,” Brandy speaks with slurred confidence. “I’m sure of it.”

I do, Grace. I love you.

Three words.

Why can’t I speak them?

Grace stands, slipping her hand in mine. “Can we go to the reception now, please?”

“We can do whatever you want.”

Brandy stumbles while Luke holds her steady and Grace and I walk to the reception room. She wants to say something, I can feel it in the pit of my belly but she holds her tongue and keeps her thoughts locked away.

There are some keynote speakers who speak about the evolution of social media. Internet  personalities speak about how their lives have been changed completely by social media, and how without the viewers, none of us would be sitting where we are. It’s one hundred percent true and I momentarily feel bad for my earlier assumptions about the girl in the elevator. When the speeches finish, the lights go down and music begins to blast from a state of the art sound system.

Grace excuses herself and I decide to use the opportunity to test Barun’s already commendable level of service even more. I dial in number and it rings only once before his voice is on the other end of the line. It’s a real strain to hear him through the music, so I need to make it quick.

“Hi Barun.”

“Oh, Mr. Chester. Nice to hear from you. Only I can’t really hear.” He chuckles.

“Can you hear me now?” I practically shout into the phone.

“I can hear you,” he assures me. “The music is very loud.”

I rise to my feet and head into the hallway, where the noise level drops only slightly.

“Is that better?”

“You’re cutting in and out, Mr. Chester.”

I raise my voice and hold the phone mic directly to my mouth, “Can I ask for your help, Barun?”

“Yes, yes,” he says in between static, “What is it you need?”

“Any chance you can have sunflowers delivered to Grace’s room?”

 If he can pull this off…

“What now?”

“Sunflowers,” I repeat. “In Grace’s room. I realize we’re on a cruise ship and it’s a long shot but I figured if anyone can help, it’s you.”

“It’s a very odd request indeed, Mr. Chester.”

“It is and if it’s not possible, that’s cool, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“I can help you, yes,” he says confidently.

What? It was a long shot, an idea, a hope. I wasn’t so sure Barun would be able to locate sunflowers so his agreement surprises me. “Really?”

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Thanks Barun.”

I hang up and return to the reception. We have a few drinks, visit with CEO’s of different start ups, talk to fellow vloggers and listen to Brandy bitch to Luke about not being romantic enough. When Grace starts yawning, I put my hand to her knee. “Wanna go back to the rooms?”

She nods.

We politely excuse ourselves and I hope like hell the entire way back that Barun has actually pulled off the impossible.

When Grace opens her door, I’m on the tips of my toes right behind her, trying to peer into the space, fully expecting to see a bouquet of sunflowers. I’m epically disappointed.

Grace’s hand flies to her mouth and she starts to laugh. Not just a chuckle, a full on hysterical giggle. I laugh too, because otherwise the total failure of communication would be enough to make me throw in the towel on my plan.

Sitting right on Grace’s small end table is a one pound bag of flour.

She walks over to it and picks it up. “I’ve heard of turndown service including chocolates and whatnot, but this is a first.” Her camera turns on and she documents the ever-growing weirdness of the cruise ship, hardly making it through her words without busting a gut.

Sunflowers.

Some flour.

Absurdly close, Barun, but wrong.

While Grace has the camera on, she turns it to me. “Speaking of weirdly awesome things, check out this handsome devil. Chester, say hi.”

I wave and smile. “Hi.”

“Chester sung a song tonight,” Grace says to the camera, “and the woman sitting with us thought it was about me.”

I force a laugh. “Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Crazy.”

***

CAMERA: ON

“Captains log. Seadate one. I tried to tell Grace how I feel about her tonight. It was a horrible, epic failure. One straight for the books. I also tried to get her sunflowers and ended up inadvertently gifting her with some flour. Communication error of the highest calibre. So Grace is next door with her bag of flour, still totally clueless that she’s my everything.” I put my head in my hands before looking back up. “I guess there’s always tomorrow.”

CAMERA: OFF

The phone rings, startling me from what little sleep I was able to get. It’s Barun.

“Did Miss Grace like her flour?”

I don’t bother, wondering what alternate universe Barun lives in that he thinks Grace would need flour. What’s she gonna do, bust out into one of her cooking shows on the ship? Actually, the more I give that idea some merit, the more it seems like something Grace might do.

“Yeah, Barun. Thanks.”

“Most welcome. There is a meet and greet scheduled for you and the others this morning directly after breakfast at 9:00 AM. Deck 3. Then you will disembark the ship and visit the wonderful Puerto Vallarta. You need to be boarding the cruise ship by no later than 9:00 PM this evening.”

“Got it,” I say. “I’ll get Grace.”

“Have fun, Mr. Chester. Don’t get caught by the pirates.” He’s so serious when he says it, it makes me laugh.

“I’ll try not to let you down, Barun.” 

I shower, brush my teeth and change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before calling Grace.

She doesn’t say hello. “I’m dying.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. You didn’t have that much to drink. We’re in Puerto Vallarta. Break out your sombrero mi amigo.”

“I’ll be like day of the dead,” she says, “in a sombrero.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach is trying to leave my body.”

“You’re sick?”

“Help me.”

I keep the phone to my ear and go out into the hallway, taking the two steps to her door. I try the handle. “Your door is locked darlin’ you’re going to have to open it.”

“Can’t. Dying.”

“Can’t help you unless you open the door.”

I hear her set the phone down, followed by a few minutes of silence until the door clicks. I push through the door in time to catch the back of Grace headed for her bathroom where she promptly flops down on the floor. She’s green as the grinch, and looking gaunt.

“You alright?”

“I’m dying,” she says again. “I have to be. I feel terrible.” Just as she says it, the ship sways. I head to her small window and look outside.

“The sea is pretty rough. Do you get seasick?”

“Oh my God, I thought it was food poisoning,” she says, “but maybe you’re right.”

“Did you pack motion sickness meds?”

She shakes her head.

“You mean to tell me in your cornucopia of unnecessary things, you didn’t pack the most basic of needs?”

“I mean to tell you that, yes.”

“I have some. Wait here.”

“Damn and here I thought I’d utilize the gym, go for a run.”

“Smartass.”

“Dying smartass.”

I go back to my room and grab the pills and a bottle of water before returning to Grace and sitting on the floor beside her. “Here, take these. You should feel better in no time.”

She downs the pills and puts her head on my lap. I absentmindedly start to run my fingers through her hair, which still holds some of the curl from the night before yet is somehow still as soft as silk. She closes her eyes and I’m not sure if she falls asleep or not, but I keep doing it, running the strands in-between the spaces of my fingertips. Twenty minutes pass, maybe thirty before I realize we’re going to be late. I nudge her.

“Pills should have kicked in by now. We are supposed to be doing a meet and greet after breakfast which starts in thirty minutes. After that, we’re leaving the boat.”

“Now you’re talking,” she says, sounding far more chipper than she was only minutes ago.

“To get on another boat.”

Her eyes tear into my skin like lasers. “I’m gonna be sick again.” 

“Try and sit up nice and slow. Those pills are loaded with ginger and stuff. Should eliminate the queasy feeling.”

She sits, her hair a rats nest, probably on account of me playing with it.

She is silent, looking at me. The colour has returned to her face and a smile stretches across her lips. “They worked.”

“Told ya.”

She throws her arms around my neck. “Chester, you saved me.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Now power up, we need to leave.”

“It’s seems like you’re always telling me it’s time to go,” she says.

“Because you’re always late.”

“But worth the wait,” she says.

Yes, yes she is.

I tidy up her room while she gets ready. I love the fact that Grace can be ready in 15 minutes when she wants to. She’s not real high maintenance, and although last night was proof that when she takes longer, the results are spectacular, I like minimalist Grace just the same. She doesn’t need to paint on layers of make up. She comes out in a dress with a top-knot on her head, looking refreshed.

“Pack those pills, my friend. I never want to feel that way again.”

We have a simple buffet breakfast, Grace opts for nothing more than a croissant and some fruit while I pile my plate with bacon, eggs, and toast. I wonder if raven haired, misjudged elevator girl is going to be at the meet and greet. When Grace, the other vloggers and I walk into the room, one might think we were at the Oscars or something. People cheer and clap and I wonder how we got here. We are just a bunch of people who like to make videos to entertain the masses. Nothing more, nothing less but we are treated with a certain kind of celebrity that some can only dream of.

After we sign autographs and take endless photos, everyone is directed to the waiting busses going to various locations all over Puerto Vallarta. I’m not sure what gave them the idea that Grace and I would make good pirates, but I’m really looking forward to it. We are loaded onto the bus with a group of die-hard fans, which is going to make this whole thing even more fun.

One of the girls sits in the seat in front of Grace and I.

“Can I take your picture?”

“Sure,” Grace says. She leans into me and we smile for the camera. The girl looks at the display and gushes, “Grester, at it’s finest.”

Grace smiles. “We’ve been shipped, Chester!”

“I know.” This isn’t news. We were shipped filming Side Effects.  

“I would have shipped us Chace, but Grester is cool too,” she says.

“You guys are like so perfect together.”

This time, Grace doesn’t deny it, she doesn’t play the friend card and I can only hope that means she’s considering the implications of being a shipped couple.

The bus starts going and Grace leans close to my ear. “We’ve been shipped,” she says again.

I lower my voice and speak only to her. “Yeah,” I say. “Ship happens.”

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