The Temptress Four Read online

  GABY TRIANA

  The

  Temptress

  Four

  For the Guids.

  “You don’t choose your own family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.”

  —Desmond Tutu

  Contents

  COVER

  EPIGRAPH

  THE NIGHT BEFORE BAY HIGH GRADUATION FAIR—

  12:38 A.M. DROPPING OFF YOLI—

  DAY 1, 10:30 A.M. DEPARTURE—

  DAY 1, NOON AT SEA—

  DAY 2, 11:00 A.M. AT SEA—

  DAY 2, 9:00 P.M. AT SEA—

  DAY 3, 8:15 A.M. SAN JUAN AND FAJARDO, PUERTO RICO—

  DAY 3, 9:25 P.M. SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO—

  DAY 4, 9:10 A.M. TORTOLA, BRITISH VIRGIN ISLANDS—

  DAY 4, 2:40 P.M. TORTOLA, BVI—

  DAY 4, 4:30 P.M. TORTOLA, BVI—

  DAY 4, 6:28 P.M. AT SEA—

  DAY 4, 8:35 P.M. AT SEA—

  DAY 5, 10:00 A.M. ST. THOMAS, U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS—

  DAY 5, 1:30 P.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 5, 10:25 P.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 5, 11:45 P.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 5, 12:35 A.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 5 1/2 , 3:28 A.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 6, 9:10 A.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 6, 10:30 A.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 6, 1:14 P.M. ST. THOMAS, USVI—

  DAY 6, 4:30 P.M. DEPARTURE FOR MIAMI—

  DAY 6, 5:15 P.M. DEPARTURE FOR MIAMI—

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ALSO BY GABY TRIANA

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  THE NIGHT BEFORE

  BAY HIGH GRADUATION FAIR—

  Things were about to change.

  How I knew that, I don’t know, but during the closing hour of the fair, I felt different. Very different. Maybe it was the heavy June humidity, or the lights and screams from the midway, or how the four of us clung together, laughing too much, like nothing would ever come between us, but something big was going to happen. It had to—high school was officially over.

  We were standing in front of the Ring of Fire, watching the last of the seniors sneak in a final ride, when I saw it, tucked away behind an elephant ear stand. A blue-and-yellow tent with a hand-painted sign: MADAME FORTUNA CAN SEE YOUR FUTURE! 5 TICKETS!

  “Let’s do this,” I told the girls. It was either that or the basketball toss, the only two things we hadn’t done yet, and basketball tosses were so rigged.

  Killian scoped the landscape for any eye candy she might have missed, but it was getting late. All the cute guys had left for the parties around town. Her gaze fell on the sign I pointed out. “A fortune-teller, Fiona?” She reached out to grab my hair, twisting it into a tight coil.

  I counted the tickets I had left. “Come on, I’ve never been to one.”

  “All right, it might be fun,” she said, letting my hair fall against my back. “I love your hair. I’m going to dye mine reddish brown like yours.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I told her for the millionth time in eight years. Switching from natural golden blond to brown was crazy talk. But then, Killian was always crazy talk.

  “Auburn. Reddish brown is auburn,” Alma corrected, drawing on her cigarette. “I’m game for the fortune-teller thing, Fee, but can I finish this first?”

  “If you must.” I wished she would n’t smoke so much, but I knew better than to tell her anything. Both her grandmother and mother were smokers too.

  “What about Mo’s party?” Yoli whined. She looked especially cute tonight, short shorts with a tight tank that hugged her petite frame.

  “We can’t. We have to get up early,” Alma reminded her.

  “We’ll leave right after we do this.” I watched Mr. Sanders bite into an ear of buttered corn. It was always weird to see teachers outside of school, having fun with other teachers, playing hooky from responsibilities. Reliving glory days or something.

  But for me, these really were glory days, and I was painfully aware of that. I kept staring at everyone, trying to record each detail and not let go. I even stared at Missy Fulton, absorbing everything about her: her plus-size jeans, the pimples on her face, her thick wrists, the way she laughed with her friends. What would she look like at our ten-year reunion? Would I ever see her again?

  “I can’t believe tomorrow’s the day,” Yoli said, breaking my trance.

  Killian stared deeply at the midway as we wandered toward the fortune-teller’s tent. “How long have we been waiting for this cruise already?”

  In the morning, we were setting sail on the Temptress—the newest ship from Caribbean Cruise Line. A celebration for graduating, for staying friends through the years somehow. It was going to be the most amazing, memorable trip, I just knew it.

  “Since March.” I watched the double Ferris wheel lunge forward with only one couple on it. “Three … long …months.”

  From the roller coaster, a shrill cry descended as the train made the steep drop. Killian’s hazel eyes reflected the bright white bulbs of the pizza stand. “I hope it’ll be fun.”

  “It better be.” I searched the girls’ faces. My voice wanted to waver, but I held it steady. I was not going to cry. “It’s our last chance to be together.”

  Yoli looked wounded. “Fiona, that is not true, and you know it. We will see each other. School will keep us busy, not apart.”

  I wanted to believe her. From the time Yoli and I became best friends in Mrs. Perry’s fourth grade class, I figured we’d always be together. We were in the same after-school class, too, where we met Alma and Killian. We started a club called Tough Cats. Stupid, because we were neither tough nor cats. So we changed it to The Foursome, but Derek Pickney kept asking how much to watch, which was considerably annoying, even though we didn’t know what he meant at the time.

  “Yoli, don’t get your hopes up. We’re going to be spread out all over the place,” Alma said, digging a hole in the muddy grass with the toe of her overworn black boot. Black boots in June—so Alma.

  “Speak for yourself.” Killian was the only one without college plans. She’d be the only one still home in August. Although her parents’ money could get her into any school she wanted at the last moment. If she wanted to, that is.

  Yoli tucked her loose brown curls behind her ears. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m coming home every holiday, and long weekends too.”

  “Yes,” Alma said, shifting from one cool pose to another. “But Tallahassee is closer to home. I’ll be in Rhode Island, Fiona in New York, Killian who knows… .”

  “Whatever, chicas,” I said, wishing Alma would finish the cig already so we could get our fortunes told. “We’ll work something out.”

  “So, what do you think this lady will say?” Yoli asked,bouncing around like a little kid.

  “Maybe you’ll meet a guy on the cruise and do him on the first night,” I said, knowing the chances of such a thing happening were slimmer than Yoli’s size-two jeans. I looked over at her and saw her cheeks were pink. “Ha-ha, just messing with you, Yoli.”

  “It could happen.” She smiled, but I could see I’d hit a nerve. Not that any of us were sexperts or anything—well, at least not Yoli, Alma, or I—but it was fun to watch Yoli squirm.

  Alma chuckled. “Sure it could, mama.” Alma herself swore to keep things at third base, saving herself for the perfect guy. Not what you’d expect from such a tough chick, but I admired her for it.

  Yoli never minded our teasing much before, but tonight she seemed different. Tonight her eyes dared me. “No, wait.Maybe she’ll know if Fiona will cheat on Lorenzo during the cruise.”

  “Ooh!” Killian bent over like she got punched in the gut.


  I clucked my tongue. “It’s okay, you’ll get yours.” I blew Yoli a kiss.

  After my fight with Lorenzo the other night about going on the cruise without him, I told Yoli I’d cheat on him, even though I never had in the two years we’d been together. I wasn’t serious, I only wanted to see her reaction. Much to my surprise, she seemed to think the idea was worth pursuing on the basis that he’d become “a macho ass” lately. And I couldn’t even retort. It was my can of worms I’d opened, and she was free to play with them.

  Everyone was staring at Yoli. Then she sighed above the silence. “Why is it whenever you guys say something, it’s hilarious, but when I say something, it’s not funny?”

  “I laughed,” Killian blurted.

  “Because it’s not your personality,” I said to Yoli.

  “Well, I’m tired of everyone thinking that. You know what? I’m going to start fresh on this cruise.” She looked so serious, it made me want to laugh aloud.

  “What are you going to do, Yoli, start acting crazy?” Killian smiled at Alma.

  Yoli raised her eyebrows. “Maybe.”

  “With your brother there to check on you?” I stifled a huge laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

  “At least he’s going, or else we wouldn’t be able to go.”

  Well, that much was true. Santiago and his wife, Monica, were coming with us tomorrow. Someone twenty-five or older had to accompany us—cruise regulations. So they offered to take a week away from their three-month-old baby girl just so we could go, which was pretty nice of them if you ask me.

  Killian smoothed her shorts out and patted her annoyingly flat stomach. “So, what crazy things are you going to do, Yoli? Tell me.” She waited for some examples, but Yoli’s cuticles were taking up lots of her attention.

  “Have toast at breakfast,” Alma said. We all laughed because Yoli would never. I always tell her it’s about moderation, not low carbs, but she never listens.

  “You guys are so hilarious.” Yoli stepped up to the tent’s flaps and tugged on one of the tether ropes. “We’ll see what happens.”

  Yes, tensions were definitely running high, either because it was our last day of high school, or because we were about to start our last few weeks together. Or maybe because we were waiting to talk to a woman who called herself Madame Fortuna. I wasn’t sure.

  “Guys,” I said to my girls, and their eyes fell on me.

  “Give me.” I held out my hand, palm down. We started this in middle school but hadn’t done it since we were juniors.They placed their hands on mine anyway: Yoli’s first, then Killian’s and Alma’s. “Yo, Kill, All, Fee …” I said.

  Familiar smiles. Killian giggled like she was still twelve, which looked funny since she was the tallest of us. “Forever friends we will be!” they answered together. We laughed like the doofs we totally were.

  The girls who had gone into the tent before us emerged arguing, one of them wiping away tears. What had Madame Fortuna told them? Apparently, it wasn’t good. Alma tossed her cigarette butt on the dying grass and crushed it. “Time to see Madame Fartuna.”

  We giggled and ducked through the tent’s flaps one at a time.

  Inside, a single lightbulb hung from the middle of the top of the tent. A woman sat at a folding table with her back turned to us, shuffling some battered tarot cards. The frayed edge of her long, beaded skirt brushed the dirt floor below.

  “Ree! Ree! Ree!” Killian imitated the eerie sound from that old black-and-white movie Psycho, where the lady taking a shower is about to become a dead lady on the bathroom floor.

  “Shut up, Kill,” Alma scolded.

  Just then, Madame Fortuna’s head whipped around, and holy moly. She could not have looked any fiercer if she were holding a dead animal in her mouth. Charcoal black hair, no shininess whatsoever. Brown eyes surrounded with dark gray shadow. Eyelashes clumped with mascara. Lips, bright pink, lined a quarter inch on the outside. She might’ve been a hundred and fifty years old. She might’ve been a zombie.

  “May I help you?” she asked in some European accent that sounded fake. She was probably from Trailerville, USA.

  “How many tickets for a reading?” I knew the sign outside had said five, but it’s just that her stunning beauty threw me off.

  Madame Fortuna’s wrinkled fingers spread open to show five. Her scowl told us we were wasting her time.

  “That’s more than the Ring of Fire,” Alma scoffed.

  The fortune-teller tapped her cards impatiently. “I’ll take fifteen for the four of you.”

  “Ah, a bargain,” Killian muttered, collecting all our tickets and handing them to the soothsayer in need of an extreme makeover.

  Madame Fortuna shoved the tickets into her apron without counting them. “Sit.”

  “There’re only two chairs,” I pointed out.

  Madame Fortuna gave me a hard look. Yikes. She motioned to some folding chairs in the corner. Yoli helped me open two more. We sat down and scooted close to the table, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

  I think we were all expecting some normal-looking lady who somehow knew things, but this … this was goth. Madame Fortuna straightened her deck of cards, then began shuffling them again. Killian’s grin died, Alma donned her usual bored look, and Yoli stared at the fortune-teller like. Bambi at Godzilla’s suppertime.

  Then Killian lifted one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at me. “This better be good.”

  Hello? The lady is right there, I tried replying with my Look o’ Hurt.

  Madame Fortuna stopped in midshuffle and laid an eye on Killian. “If you jest,” she warned with a throaty voice that had probably seen one too many cigarettes, “the reading will be invalid.” Behind her, a fan clipped to the tent frame whirred above the dead air.

  This would’ve been a good time for everyone to stay quiet. But noooo. “We’re not jesting,” Alma spat with the same attitude that had landed her one detention after another in school. She stared at the woman like she wanted to squash her.

  I swear, Madame Fortuna’s face was something out of a Stephen King novel. “Young lady,” she drawled, “your negativity will one day be your downfall.”

  Whoa.

  Killian lowered her head. Good thing she didn’t lose it, or I might have, too. And who would want Madame Fortuna banishing them to the fires of Hell? I covered my mouth with my hand and focused on the cards. Please get this over with already.

  Like she heard my thoughts, Madame Fortuna placed the cards faceup on the table in what seemed no particular order. Wasn’t there some kind of protocol to a tarot reading? I watched her face for signs of foretelling, but she gave away nothing. Just stared at the cards.

  She was starting to creep me out. She looked dead. Dead with eyes open. Maybe she’s fallen asleep. Killian, Alma, Yoli, and I glanced at one another. No one smiled anymore. No one moved. We just shrugged. Maybe we should’ve used our tickets for another go on the roller coaster.

  Alma leaned forward to peer at the cards. “See anything?”

  Yoli nudged Alma’s arm to quiet her. Suddenly, Madame F. lifted her hands and placed them on mine and Yoli’s, freaking me out for a second. It reminded me of a horror flick where wax dummies came to life. I admit my heart leaped inside my chest, but that was just silly. A part of me wanted to smile just to calm my nerves. Then I noticed how her fingers felt on mine: soft. I thought they’d be dry or cold.

  After a minute, Madame Fortuna placed her hands on Alma’s—ivory, wrinkly skin over warm brown. Alma stared down at the hands. I expected her eyelashes to flutter in sarcasm, but instead, she looked into the old woman’s face real serious. Finally, Madame Fortuna gestured for Killian’s hands, and Kill gave them up without hesitation. No more playing around.

  The fortune-teller closed her painted eyes.

  We waited. And waited.

  Normally, something like this would’ve sent us into fits of laughter, getting us into trouble in classes, but this time, we were too edgy to flinch. We wa
nted answers, to know what the summer and rest of the year would bring. The future was on all our minds. I didn’t need a fortune-teller to know that much.

  The old woman finally opened her eyes, letting go of Killian’s hands, and her gaze fell on a card. “The Fool,” she said, pointing to it with a long nail. “There will be a voyage.”

  What? How did she …

  Killian’s eyebrows shot up. Her mouth started to form some words, but the gypsy stopped her with a hand.

  “A voyage at sea,” the woman continued, still looking at the card.

  The hair on my arms stood up. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Someone must have gone in before us and told her about our cruise. Killian. Killian would do something like this.

  Madame Fortuna showed us more cards: a heart with three swords piercing it and a brick tower ablaze under a cloud of heavy smoke. “Eight days of strife …” She paused to take a deep breath. The air smelled like cotton candy, butter, and gasoline. “Strife and storms.”

  “Strife and storms?” Alma interrupted and looked at all our faces for some kind of explanation, but we had none.

  “Bonds will be broken,” Madame Fortuna went on.Okay, this lady was bogus. How would she even know we had a bond? What if we were random classmates who met up at the fair? I was feeling pretty light-headed right about now. It was hot and stuffy inside the tent. Too many of us in here.

  Finally, Madame Fortuna pointed to another card: a dragon dying from a sword wound. On the bottom, I barely made out the upside-down word. But when I did, it made my heart lurch inside my chest: DEATH.

  Okay, this stopped being a good idea right about now.

  I wanted to get up and run, but we just sat there, watching Madame Fortuna in silence. Her closed eyelids quivered in a way that made me want to pull the covers over my head, but there were no covers. She leaned back in her seat, and as long as I live, I will never forget her empty gaze or what she said when she reopened her eyes. “One of you”—her voice was flat, defeated—“will not come home.”

  12:38 A.M.

  DROPPING OFF YOLI—

  It wasn’t me!” Killian cried as we all hopped out of her truck in Yoli’s driveway.