Chapter 8: Doppelbanger: Chapter 8

IT SEEMS LIKE everywhere I turn, Tinkerbell and those boys are there. I decided I’d take Vangie and Willow out to the main deck after nap time to see what was going on. Well, our cruise director just happened to be recruiting eight men to compete in a lip sync battle. Of course, Evangeline insisted I volunteer. No biggie. I’m not a shy guy in any sense of the word.

What I wasn’t banking on was them dressing us in women’s clothing. Or that, as I find myself about to take my turn down the runway in three-inch heels, wearing a red robe and hot pink feathered boa, Tink would be sitting front and center, sipping on another frozen drink. Vangie and Willow must’ve spotted them while I was being made into a drag queen, because they’re sitting at the foot of Savage’s lounge chair, staring right at me.

“Ladies and gents have we got a treat for you. Up next is Mr. Jeff Ryannnn bringing you his rendition of “Supermodel (You Better Work)” by none other than RuPaul!”

As the music starts up, I block them out, concentrating on my moves, the lyrics, and not falling on my face.

“Woooo! That’s right, Mr. Ryan. Work it, girl! Just like that,” Stan, the cruise director encourages.

When I reach the front of the catwalk, he comes over the mic again. “Now, give ’em a good twirl.”

At this point, all I can hear are the faint cheers of the crowd and my own heartbeats pounding in my ears. It’s almost over. Time for my big finish.

Gripping the ends of the boa in each of my hands, I play to the crowd, giving them a little shimmy while spinning in my stilettos. The tip of one of my heels catches in between the slats of wood on the deck, and my life flashes before my eyes. I fall forward, in what feels like slow motion, landing with my face right in the lap of an older gentleman sporting a bright blue Speedo.

To make matters worse—you mean it actually gets worse than a face full of wrinkled, hairy balls? Yes. Yes, it does, because I can’t get up. Blinding pain shoots up my leg from my rolled ankle.

The man who I’ve just inadvertently assaulted helps me out of his crotch with the assistance of the intrusive blonde who I’ve been trying so hard to avoid.

I’m unreasonably pissed that she’s taking it upon herself to make sure that I’m okay, giving up her chair, fawning all over me. I don’t want to be taken care of by a woman, especially not one I’m fucking. That was my Jessica’s job. It’s too intimate, and it’s messing with me bad.

“You otay, Daddy?” Willow asks, patting my cheeks with her chubby little hands as she climbs over the arm of the chair and into my lap. Instantly some of my ire cools as I breathe in the scent of her watermelon shampoo, taking in the look of concern in her eyes.

“That was amazing, Dad!” Evangeline gushes while Tink fusses over my hurt ankle, and I fight the urge to yank it away. “Landon got the whole thing on video. He’s gonna email it to me from his phone.”

The more Gina touches, the worse it hurts. It’s getting hard to maintain a straight face. “Stop that,” I hiss, shooing her off me. “It’s fine. Just get me some ice.”

Gina’s eyes narrow at the bite in my tone, and she sends me a sideways glance. “You could say please, asshole.”

“Ooooh,” Willow howls. “Gigi just saided a bad word…” A few more days around this woman, and my girls will go home speaking like pirates.

“Please, Gina, could you get me some ice?” I grit through a pained smile.

“Certainly.” She rises to her feet and begins walking toward the entrance to the buffet when I call her back.

“Tink!”

“Yeah?” she calls, looking back at me over her shoulder.

“Please watch your language around my children.”

Her head spins back around, and she raises her arm into the air with the middle finger extended.

“What’s dat mean, Daddy?” Willow asks, mimicking her new idol.

I clamp her little hand in mine, pushing her finger down. “Ladies don’t do that, Willow. It means a very bad word.”

“He means the f-you word, Willow.”

“What’s f-you?”

“Fuck you,” Savage whisper-shouts with his hands cupped around his mouth, shocking me speechless. “Mommy says it’s a grown-up sentence hancer, and you can’t say dose ’til you’re big.”

Sentence enhancers. Dear Lord. Who these people?

“Big people shouldn’t be using that language around children, Kyle.”

He shrugs his sun-kissed shoulders at me. “Dats what my dad says too. But, he gived up on Auntie Gigi. Her’s a lost cause.”

I watch the tiny blonde sashay her way back from the kitchens with the ice pack extended out in front of her—her imaginary dance partner.

I feel the need to bolt any time she’s near, but we’re stuck together for the duration of this cruise, and it doesn’t seem like the girls are going to allow me to avoid her.

After icing my ankle for half an hour, I try to stand, but it’s still too sore. Stan has the staff bring a wheelchair for me to get around in for the time being. Gina insists on rolling me over to the kids’ camps to sign Willow in for the afternoon. At first, I refuse, but the girls start pouting, and I don’t want to ruin their day just because I’m hurt, so I concede.

“You can put my name down so I can sign her in and out with Savage, if you want, then you won’t have to come up before dinner and bring her back afterward.”

“No offense, Tink, but I can handle things just fine on my own.”

She nods, digging a prescription pad from her purse. I strain to see what she’s writing on the counter above my head, but it’s no use. I can’t see without standing, and I won’t make it obvious that I care. Because I don’t…

“Where’d you get a prescription pad?” The thought of this loon doling out medications is frightening.

Without looking my way, she continues scribbling as she answers. “I’m a psychiatrist, Jeffrey.” Gina caps the pen, dropping it back into her purse, turns my way, and winks. “Sex is just my specialty.”

My dick strains against my zipper as she leans in close, handing me the folded script. Her tits are right under my nose. I want to cup them in my hands and lick the exposed skin.

“Thanks for the orgasm,” she whispers, before relinquishing her hold on the slip of paper. Gina backs a few steps away, lifting her fingers to her plump lips. With her eyes fixed on mine, she presses a long, slow kiss to the tips and blows. “See ya ’round, Jeff.”

Her ass moves from side to side in those little hot pink booty shorts as she walks away with purpose.

Ask and you shall receive.

I’m equal parts pissed at her for leaving me to fend for myself, even if it is exactly what I told her to do, and turned on at her nerve.

When she’s disappeared from sight, I unfold the sheet clasped in my hand.

Orgasms, take for pain as needed. Room 436.