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than sorry, I tell myself as I lie in bed, frustrated and alone.

Chapter Seven
    T he next morning, I wake up and put all my effort into figuring out the daily itinerary. I’m not planning on getting off the ship again until we get to Jamaica. I need to start taking advantage of everything the ship has to offer, so I don’t spend the entire trip by the pool or stalking Eric.
    After coffee and a smoke, I devise a plan on how to tackle the huge list. I snag a highlighter at Guest Services, and then start to mark up everything that sounds interesting.

    Over the last three days I’ve conquered the Rock Wall, played some mean table tennis, explored the art galleries and library, and enjoyed a massage in the spa. There’s been poolside music to enjoy in the evenings, along with 80s music trivia, and a movie showing under the stars. I’ve been to dinner with Kim two of the last three nights, but last night I opted for a slice of pizza while I played blackjack in the casino. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost my touch. I went to bed with $200 extra in my wallet.
    I haven’t seen Eric since that night at Allure. With almost eight thousand people on this ship, and no idea where to find him, it’s unlikely I’ll see him again. I haven’t exactly been seeking him out, either. Staying away from the bars is easier. Tonight, however, they’re having a senior swing dance at The Vine Bar, which despite my sales pitch, Kim and her friends are opting out of in favor of Margarita Madness at the Samba Lounge.
    I’ve always loved old movies and the big-band music that played when actors like Gene Kelly took the stage. There was a local band that played in Vegas at Hard Rock which almost brought the house down. The dancers were out in full force, and I was fascinated by their clothes and makeup. I’ve been admiring the rockabilly culture from afar, sticking my toe in here and there. The music and the dancing is what draws me the most.
    So tonight, I’ll put on my polka dot dress, my red lipstick, create a pretty pinup hairstyle, and hit the scene all by myself. Hopefully, I can find a nice older gentleman to twirl me around the dance floor like it’s 1945.

Chapter Eight
    M y dress sways as I walk along the deck. I had an early dinner in the dining room and then took my time getting ready. The dance started at seven, which is early. But this is for seniors, so I leave my room at seven-fifteen, because it’s liable to end early as well. A live swing band is playing, and I can’t wait to sit down with a cocktail and enjoy the music.
    The sounds of a high hat and trumpet reach me as I pull open the polished wood door. Inside, the lights are low. There’s a long bar to the left, booths to the right, and a dance floor in the middle of the room across from me, where an eight-piece band plays. I immediately start tapping my toe to the rhythm and head for an open stool at the bar.
    A Manhattan seems fitting, and I place my order with the bartender. My fingers tap along to the tempo as I wait for my drink. There are lots of older couples dancing, some tucked away in booths. And there are a few younger couples here as well, enjoying the music. I’m so happy I did this. When George and Ella, the couple I played ping-pong with earlier today, mentioned it, I knew I couldn’t miss this event.
    My red heels tap on the footrest as I take a sip of my cocktail. Mmm, this is good.
    “Hey, kiddo. Glad you made it.” George bumps my shoulder and I turn and greet both him and Ella with a kiss to each cheek.
    “Well, are you guys going to show me how it’s done tonight?”
    “I’ll try my best. Of the two of us, Ella is the dancer. She makes me look good.”
    Ella playfully pushes his shoulder, but blushes at the compliment. They’re a darling couple. I can’t wait to see them out there. We clink our glasses together as we all watch the band across the room play in the dim light of the bar.
    I’ve been transported to the 1940s tonight. The