sail » roman godfrey au

00

Rosalie Marye Pierce boarded the large ship Gosling with uncertainty, her heavy bags slowing her down with each hesitant step.

As only a third class passenger, she wasn't sure there were bell boys or people waiting to direct her to her room.The corridor was bustling as people seemed to walk with purpose to a set destination--unlike her. She was sure she was on the correct deck, though.

A man was leaning against a door frame, smoking a cigarette she was sure he wasn't supposed to possess.

He appeared to be the only individual that wasn't too busy to bother with her question.

"Sir, would you mind helping me for a moment?"

His eyes leisurely landed on her, staring at her face with narrowed eyes.

"What is it, darlin'."

His speech was slow, southern and unsettling.

"I can't seem to find my cabin, two thirty-eight."

He looked down both hallways, they were slightly clearing as passengers either retreated to their cabins or went to stroll around and become acquainted with the maze of halls.

"I believe it'd be down this way."

He started down the corridor, and with a couple of turns to the right and left they arrived at a door with the numbers two thirty-eight painted in black.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help."

He grinned, displaying his amber teeth before he took his burning cigarette and placed it between his pale lips.

"The pleasure is all mine, darlin'."

She nodded, distressed that this boor of a man now knew what room she resided in.

Before he turned to leave, he allowed himself a leer at her from head to toe.

He has the eyes of a serpent, but the manners of a swine.

When he had disappeared around a corner she unlocked her door and peered into her tiny room.

Options were limited, it was either she shared a medium-sized cabin with a stranger, or have a small cabin to herself. She enjoyed her privacy.

Her twin bed was pushed up against the far wall, pinching into the corner.

There was a nightstand, small chest, and a slight bathroom. There was a toilet and a mirror, the showers only available if you ventured to the shared bathing chambers.

One month, she reminded herself.

x

Roman Godfrey refused to let the limp teenage bell boy carry his belongings to his room.

His mother did, however.

"I specifically declared that I wished for us to be on the same floor, and I demand a transfer."

The boy, Charlie, appeared petrified.

Roman had promised to pay double the price of the cabin if they guaranteed his room on a separate floor than his mothers.

"I don't believe that can be arranged, ma'am."

He continued searching for his room as his mother forced her haughty superiority onto the young boy.

He came upon the door with golden extruding numbers of four eighty-nine.

Interrupting her speech of money poorly spent, "Mother, I'll be taking a nap."

"Darling--"

He shut the door before she could continue her sentence.

The room was large, an en-suite bathroom with marble counters and wooden floors that stretched into the room.

He removed his shoes and blazer, unbuttoning the crisp, white dress shirt.

There were two similar nightstands on either side of the king-sized bed, a telephone perched on the night table to his left.

He didn't planned to take a nap, that was the excuse he told his mother for when he conspired against her and arranged an escape.

But he didn't feel like doing anything but succumb to the sweet calling of sleep.

One month, he reminded himself.