I took one of the pay packets out and waved it in Vern’s face. Then I said, “I don’t pay sexist assholes. You want your money, you’d better deal with me.”

“Yes, sir…I mean, ma’am.” He didn’t like it, but he reached for the envelope. I kept it out of his grasp.

The other man, who may have been strong and sure like Vern was thirty years ago, was more concerned with salvaging his lost beer than paying attention to us.

“Good. Where’s Quince?” I asked Vern.

“Uh…this way.” He led me into the main room.

The flickering lamplight gave the room a hellish appearance. A large group of men sat around a table, gulping cheap beer. A stunned silence took over when I entered. Off to one side I saw a young girl, but that corner of the room was hidden behind the open door.

“Where’s Joey?” an older man I guessed to be Quince growled out. He was tall and stocky; several days growth of beard covered his face and he wore a grimy captain’s cap. He had the eyes of a man who only understood power.

“He got hung up,” I replied without thinking. I ignored my unfortunate choice of words and continued, “He’ll meet us in Biloxi.” I might be able to use that as my excuse to get off the boat.

“So you’re Micky? I’ll be damned,” Quince said, shaking his head.

“You’re Quince?” I asked, not mentioning that he probably would be damned.

He nodded his head. Vern shut the door behind me. I purposefully didn’t look into the shadowed corner where the young girls were.

“Are we ready to go?” I asked.

“You got the money?” Quince responded.

I pulled the pay envelopes out to join the one I had waved in front of Vern.

Then from the corner where the children were, a voice called out, “Micky?”

I slowly turned to look at Karen, not wanting to give anything away in my response to her. No, I thought, why the hell aren’t you with Cordelia. She was a blond shadow in that dark corner, surrounded by several young girls.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Tying up loose ends.” Quince shrugged.

Then I saw Cordelia sitting on the floor behind Karen. She was staring at me.

“Micky? What…?” She didn’t finish her question.

“You know her?” Quince demanded.

“Not well. She knows Karen, that’s how I know her.”

“You can’t be involved…” Cordelia said. “Not in this,” she finally finished softly.

“‘This,’” Quince mocked her, “is taking our little passengers on a cruise they’ll never forget. You’re involved in that aren’t you, Micky?” He looked at me, probing for any reluctance on my face.

“Yeah, I’m involved with this,” I answered, not looking at Cordelia.

“No,” she exclaimed. “You can’t…not…” Then she trailed off, a look of shock and anger on her face.

You can’t react, I disciplined myself, clamping down on the emotions that churned inside me. “Yes, I can. I guess you don’t know me very well,” I answered. I still couldn’t look directly at her. Instead I kept my eyes on Quince. He had to believe my act. But to convince him, I had to deceive Cordelia, too.

Quince asked pointedly, “You got the money?”

I tossed his envelope across the table to him, then called out the names of each man in turn as I handed out their money. Vern got his last. Handing out pay packets certainly made it look like I was involved.

After counting his portion, Quince stood up and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

“Can’t we take the blond with us?” Vern whined. “No one will know if she survives a few more days.”

“What are you planning to do?” I asked Quince, trying to keep the agitation out of my voice.

“Fire,” he said laconically.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take them with us and dump them overboard?” I asked. Even though my back was to her, I could still feel Cordelia’s stare.

“No. No brig on the ship. I can’t be bothered guarding them.”

“Micky, please,” Karen begged.

Quince threw two sets of handcuffs on the table. “We cuff ’em and leave ’em here. Unless you’ve got a better idea,” he challenged me.