The Haven Club

Venice

Lisa finally took the dreaded step and crossed over the bobbing threshold of the Norwegian Epic. The impressive cruise ship towered over the old buildings of Venice’s ancient port and dwarfed all other vessels docked within the bay. Climbing to nineteen decks, the Epic peaked at one hundred and seventy-two feet in height and stretched to a little over one thousand feet in length. It commanded respect, but Lisa could only offer fear.

This was her first cruise and she was deathly terrified of drowning. It took a lot of delicate persuasion and hefty promises of exotic dinners, pristine beaches, expensive jewelry and the best sex of her life to get her to cave. Which she did in the end.

The trip was orchestrated and made possible by her latest boyfriend of the month, Raphael, who owned three James Beard award winning restaurants in Boston. He was also in the process of opening a new restaurant in the port town of Livorno, Italy, where he hoped he could acquire his first Michelin star rating. Lisa, a renowned yet ruthlessly feared food critic in Boston, considered herself fated to meet Raphael and her deep desire of traversing the globe was quickly made possible thanks to his luxurious bank account.

Displaying her photographed identification card to the crew member manning the metal detectors, her facial recognition was accepted and Lisa was efficiently ushered deeper into the bowels of the ship. Raphael’s I.D card was also accepted and was ushered through behind a trembling Lisa. His Croatian accent was thick, yet it was the most comforting sound Lisa had ever heard, “The luggage is safe, my love. The crew are all professionals and our suitcases will be waiting for us inside of our cabin. Your insulin is safe. I promise.” He reached into his suit jacket breast pocket and pulled out a travel size Kit-Kat bar and handed it to Lisa who was now grinning from ear to ear.

She knew her blood sugar was dropping low. She took insulin before disembarking the trolley bus that delivered them to the ship from the airport. Yet, she couldn’t help herself from smiling. She had been a type one diabetic for four years and Raphael was the first boyfriend to ever take interest and pay attention to her monitored lifestyle. She wasn;t sure if she was in love, but her heart was always fluttering and considering they were minutes away from embarking on a trip of a lifetime, she let the door to love remain open.

“How about we calm those nerves with a drink on the pool deck?” Raphael said.

“It’s going to take a lot more than one,” Lisa replied, attempting to laugh.

Raphael pressed the glowing up arrow in the wall, and summoned the elevator. It arrived within seconds and to Lisa’s pleasure, was empty. He held out his arm, preventing the door from closing, and allowed Lisa to enter first. He stepped in behind her, then pressed the glowing, fifteen button, on the control panel. Lisa then repeatedly pressed the, Close Door, button until they were safely entombed together. She wasn’t ready to share such close quarters with strangers just yet. That’s what the alcohol was for.

He turned to her, with the intention to ask what she was most looking forward to during their two week stay bouncing from country to country along the Mediterranean, but was slammed against the elevator wall and was silenced by an extremely aggressive pair of lips and a prodding tongue. Nervous that Lisa would feel the awkward bulge of a ring box in his breast pocket he used both of his hands to firmly grasp her waist, spinning them around until her back was pressed into the cushioned wall. He then returned her advance with one of his own, taking caution to keep his chest from making contact with hers while eagerly pinning his hips to hers. She was desperately trying to free the leather belt from his pants, and he was fidgeting with the strap of her silk red bra when the elevator pinged their timely arrival to the fifteenth floor.

Lisa gasped with embarrassment prompting Raphael to awkwardly slip away from her as an elderly couple dressed in flamboyant beach wear, funky yellow and purple island shades and each holding a fresh mimosa, humorously enjoyed the provocative show.

“Your secret is safe with us, dear,” The old lady said, as she entered the elevator before her husband.

The elderly man gave Raphael an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder as well as a wink of understanding as he passed by the younger man, “You better get her to your room as soon as possible.”

The old man’s wife gave him a playful yet serious whack of her own, instructing him to not further embarrass the young couple. That made Lisa giggle and the tension of her shame was instantly lifted as the door to the elevator closed on the elderly couple slowly moving in to kiss one another yet not before the old man bobbled his drink, spilling it over his wife’s new shirt.

“I hope you know your way to the bar,” Lisa said.

Raphael gave her his signature smile, the one that never failed to upset the butterflies in her stomach, then held out his hand, “Follow me.”

The Waves Pool Bar was long and wrapped around the deck’s dance floor. It was surrounded by hundreds of lounge chairs which even at the early hour of seven in the morning were quickly being claimed by the boarding passengers. The pools were still empty but endless streams of passengers in all manners of worldly beach attire continued to pour in from every direction.

Raphael claimed two open stools at the bar and made sure Lisa was seated before he was. As she scoured the table menu’s list of alcoholic beverages and frozen treats, Raphael removed his Norwegian rewards card and offered it to the nearest bartender. The reward card, for someone of Raphael’s stature, meant free drinks without limitation. He was a Haven’s Club member, which meant the best of the best by cruising standards. They had access to private elevators, private gyms, spas, bars and being located on the seventeenth floor, meant access to the Posh Beach Club. An area off limits to all guests who were not members of the Haven Club. It was fancy, and Raphael knew that, so as to not spook Lisa too soon, he let her enjoy the fast-paced environment of the public areas of the ship first.

“I think I want a mudslide,” Lisa said, as she twitched her lips back and forth as she mulled over her decision, “Yeah, screw it. I’ll have a mudslide please. Feel free to add an extra splash of vodka.”

The young gentleman behind the bar smiled at Lisa then greeted Raphael, “And for you sir?”

Raphael was still looking over the menu, deciding on a mimosa, gin and tonic, which he wasn't crazy about considering the time of day, or an alcoholic mango and raspberry frozen slush.

“Screw it,” he said, looking at Lisa who was grinning back at him, “Make that two mudslides. Extra vodka.”

The bartender nodded, then handed Raphael back his Haven Club card, “Coming right up.”

An hour passed. Then a second, and nearly a third before the happy couple even thought about getting up from the bar. They had both successfully consumed three mudslides each, all with extra splashes of vodka, as well as two frozen slushies and two glasses of mimosa. They also added in a few glasses of water for good measure. It was after all only ten in the morning.

“We should probably eat,” Lisa said, as she harshly judged the people she was about to be stuck on a ship with for the next fourteen days from behind the protection of her Ferrari Ray Bans - a buttering up gift from Raphael.

“The only place open for food now is the Garden Cafe. It is an all inclusive buffet that nearly wraps around the entire deck of the ship,” Raphael said.

Being who Lisa was meant she was responsible for fulfilling many dreams, catapulting promising careers for upcoming chefs, solidifying long enduring futures for new restaurants and it even meant awarding stars for the Michelin Guide. Being Lisa also meant she was responsible for the breaking of hearts and the desolation of dreams, the deaths of careers and the closure of restaurants. She was beloved and yet hated for her work, but she loved it more than anything else in the world. Mainly because she got to eat great tasting food for a living.

“A buffet sounds wonderful,” Lisa said, dismounting her stool and dancing her way towards the motorized doors leading into the cafe.

Within minutes, both of their plates were stacked with fresh fruit, sausage links, strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, buttered english muffins, cinnamon french toast and assortments of breakfast pastries. Once they obtained a table for two against the starboard side glass window, overlooking the Venetian harbor, Raphael made multiple trips back through the buffet to get two glasses of orange juice, two cups of hot coffee, and two more mimosas from the cafe’s bar. When he finally sat down, they began their glorious feast to kick off their romantic Mediterranean getaway.

Lisa and Raphael had only been dating for six months, right after Raphael’s restaurant in Chicago failed to obtain its first Michelin star. She knew it was still early in the relationship, but something deeper stirred and she could see the possibility of life with Raphael.

Her Dexcom sensor, a small device attached to her upper right bicep which monitored her glucose levels, and her PDM, a small handheld monitor which resembled an early generation iPod, both began to beep in tandem.

“Shit,” Lisa said, “Sensor failure. I’m sorry babe, but can we head to our room? I need to change out my sensor and take a little more insulin. Those mudslides are spiking my blood sugar.”

“You’re going to love the Haven Club,” Raphael said, as he rose from his chair.

“Where are the trash bins?” Lisa asked.

Raphael laughed at her innocence, “That’s the beauty of cruising, my love. You don't have to throw anything away. The staff will take care of it.”

Almost on cue, Lisa saw one of the staff members head her way with a large push-cart brimming with dirty plates and glasses.

“I think I’m going to like this,” Lisa said.

Raphael gave her a playful bow, “Then if you would be so kind as to follow me, the Haven Club, and your baggie of drugs and needles await you.”

Lisa wanted to punch him, and kiss him. She did neither. She took his sexy, calloused hand in hers and allowed him to whisk her away. Weaving in and out of the thousands of flirtatious singles, elderly couples and young families all trying to navigate the enormous vessel.

Zipping up the private elevator, which had its own valet, the doors opened to showcase a private courtyard and the Haven Lounge which had a small, jeweled jacuzzi at its center. The lights were dim and soothingly gleamed gold and purple. Taking it all in as fast as she could, Raphael tugged on her hand and led them down a carpeted corridor. Once they finally reached room 17019, Raphael reached into his pant’s pocket and retrieved their room key. Sliding it into the chip reader, the red light on the lock popped to green, and he yanked the handle down until the door opened.

Lisa stepped inside and gawked at the sheer size of the room. Being just under nine hundred square feet, which was bigger than her first city studio apartment, she couldn’t believe such accommodations existed on cruise ships. The room had a private bedroom with a king-size bed, a living room, and a separate dining room equipped with a complimentary bottle of champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. Next came the posh bathroom with a whirlpool tub, two sinks and endless ocean views. Once Lisa was finished touring the rooms, she ventured out onto the one-hundred and twenty foot balcony, equipped with two reclinable lounge chairs. But best of all, Raphael was right. Both of their suitcases were resting on top of the king-size bed.

Lisa unzipped her suitcase and removed her Ziploc bag of insulin, needles, alcohol wipes and extra Dexcoms. She quickly swapped out her sensors and administered a decent dose of insulin to combat her climbing blood sugar. Feeling her body react to the medicine, she stared down the strawberries. Which she considered foolish due to them being smothered in sugary chocolate.

“I think I’m going to take a bath in that tub, then take a nap. My head is beginning to thank me for all of those drinks,” she said, as she fidgeted with the tub’s nozzles.

“Sounds like a perfect plan, my love,” Raphael said, “I’m going to head down to guest services and make sure the jet ski excursion in Capri was added to our itinerary.”

He popped into the bathroom while she was undressing and second guessed going down to guest services, but Lisa submerged herself with haste and Raphael caught the message. She needed some alone time. He braced himself on the tub’s lip, bent down and kissed her hard.

“Before you leave, can you open that bottle of bubbles and bring it to me?”

The pop echoed through their cabin, but was quickly muffled by the salty gale whipping in through the balcony door.

“Try not to have too much fun without me,” Raphael said, handing Lisa the bottle.

“No promises.”

Raphael left the suite, and Lisa took two large gulps from the bottle of Moet & Chandon. Carefully placing it down on the glass side table, she shut her tired eyes and allowed the jets to massage her body.

After about an hour of soaking, lathering and drinking, Lisa finally convinced herself to get out of the tub. She acquired a soft towel from the floating cupboard and dried herself while watching the waves crash against nothing. She exited the bathroom and found herself alone. Raphael was still out. She didn’t think much of it, considering how personable the man could be, but she also knew how sexy she was and ultimately had no worries of him not returning.

Letting the damp towel fall to the floor, she picked up the plate of strawberries and headed out onto the balcony. While she ate the fresh fruit, she heard the room door open. Slightly turning her head, as in a seductive way of not fully looking back, she spoke to her man, “Come and join me.”

Footsteps approached her with speed and before she had a chance, two firm hands latched onto her shoulders, lifting her up and over the balcony’s railing.

As she fell sixteen stories, her brain got stuck on the imaginary idea of marrying Raphael.