Wrong Answers Only by Tobias Madden

Author:Tobias Madden [Madden, Tobias]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781760148539
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia

twenty-two

Turns out that hosting trivia is nowhere near as fun as winning trivia. Having said that, it does take my mind off Mum and Dad and Nonna and Renzo and the never-ending thought-spiral clogging my brain. Plus, Renzo said they’d pay me twenty US dollars – in cash – every time I host a session, which will help slow the process of burning through my savings while I’m here on the ship, or racking up a debt to Renzo that I’ll never be able to repay.

Jess – whose job I’m taking over as trivia host – takes me up to the Atlantic Lounge and provides some basic instructions in her customary terse fashion.

‘Everything is stored here,’ she says, opening a small cupboard behind the glowing marble bar. ‘Pick a question sheet. Make sure you don’t use the same one twice in a cruise. The passengers will complain.’

‘Got it.’

‘Most of them will bring their own pens and paper, but there are spares here if you need them.’

‘Yep.’

‘And the winning team gets an Ocean Majestic luggage tag. Also in here.’

‘One luggage tag per team member?’

She glares at me as if I made the world’s stupidest joke. ‘One luggage tag per team.’

I laugh. ‘What, and they all have to share it? Take turns using it on their suitcases?’

‘It’s not about the luggage tag,’ she snaps. ‘The passengers have cupboards full of Ocean Majestic luggage tags. It’s symbolic.’

‘Of what?’

‘Winning. Obviously.’

I hold my hands up in defeat. ‘Okay. One luggage tag. Got it.’

She shakes her head, muttering something that sounds distinctly like ‘I thought you were supposed to be a genius’ before heading off towards the elevator.

‘Thanks,’ I call out. ‘That was a super helpful tutorial, Jessica.’

Honestly, CeCe doesn’t stand a chance with that girl.

I set myself up at one of the tables by the floor-to-ceiling window and watch as the trivia attendees trickle in. From the second they step out of the elevator, it’s obvious who the main contenders are. They move with purpose. They know exactly which table around the sunken dance floor they’re heading towards. (I recognise them, because that’s exactly what I’d be like.) The others – the teams who clearly don’t have a hope of winning – meander into the lounge, taking in the view of the pool deck, distractedly digging in their purses for pens and scraps of paper.

While I wait for everyone to get settled, a plump lady with sandy blonde hair sidles up beside me.

‘Excuse me, handsome,’ she says, in a soft Southern American accent. ‘You wouldn’t believe it, but my silly old pen has stopped working. You don’t happen to have a spare lying around, do you?’

Everything about the woman reminds me of Wendy from the previous twelve-day cruise. The voice, the clothes, the flirty twinkle in the eye. It may as well be Wendy’s sister. Hell, it might actually be her sister.

(I should probably warn Renzo.)

‘Of course,’ I reply, nodding. ‘One sec.’

I dart over to the bar and grab a pen from the trivia cupboard.

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