Chapter II, part I

Girl's Night Out

"Big girls don't cry-yi-yi! Big girls don't cry…something-else-yi-yi…"

A flash of red-brown hair, the glimpse of a smile, both twirling past the glass door of a modest one-story home with a semi-green lawn. Golden poppies adorned the sides of the cobblestone path leading to the house, and a birch tree stood sentry to the side.

"Big girls, mmhmm, don't cry!" A muffled but distinctly female voice altered between humming and singing the words of a song largely popular from over thirty years ago emanated from the inside, the sound wafting pleasantly from the open windows.

Within, the woman ceased her singing, and sat down at her coffee table, carefully placing a steaming cup of tea on a coaster, sticking her finger in while preparing to stir, before yelping and popping the digit within her mouth, glaring daggers at the hot liquid for burning her.

Her hair was the color of mahogany, a soft warm color, just like her eyes. She had a pale complexion with a healthy color in her cheeks, and rosebud lips. She was not tall when standing, though so well proportioned it was almost impossible to tell when she sat. At five feet three inches, she was something on the smaller side, but that didn't matter to her.

While slender, her hips were not curvaceous, her chest not busty, her waist not pencil thin, her skin not flawless.
She was human.
And no human looked like a pole.
At least, no human that she wanted to be.

Taking a sip out of her cup that cheerily said in bright bold lettering, 'Wisconsin loves cheese!' the woman leaned back and yawned like a sleepy puppy. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply and complacently. The mug was resting in her cupped hands, the warmth seeping through to her bones.

Soon though, an annoying buzzing echoed through her house. One eye creaked open slowly, and rolled, expressing her agitation at being disturbed. The phone's high pitch screamed again, but the woman was in no mind to pick it up. Finally, it stopped, and with a beep, her message machine whirred into action.

"Hello, you've reached Claire Peterson's home. Sorry, I can't think of anything funny or witty to say, so just shout out whatever you need to after the beep!" her pre-recorded voice warbled happily. The woman sat motionless in her chair, head trained towards the tape recorder intently.

"Hi, it's Veronica. I found out about this really cool pirate festival happening in a couple of days. You know, for September 19th, talk like a pirate day." By this point, Claire had jumped up and began sprinting for the phone hanging from the wall in the kitchen, the next room over.

"Hi Vera," she said, slightly out of breath. Whenever the word 'pirate' was involved, Claire was there. She held a fondness for pirates from a very early age. She didn't know why, but they just intrigued her. Of course, she knew pirates were awful, wretched and desperate men, not at all like Errol Flynn from the old movies.

But…the whole idea of pirate, appealed to her. Or, at least the olden kinds. Modern ones just bugged her. Of course, modern pirates bug most everybody, so that was nothing special.

"Hey!" Veronica greeted from the other end. "What took you so long? Just kidding. Anyway, you probably know all about this already, being the maritime expert that you are, but there's a pirate festival down near San Diego. What do you say you and me go down this weekend, rent out a room in a motel, go to the festival, kick back, relax, and maybe, if there's enough time the next day, we can spend it at Seaworld together?"

"Wow," Claire replied, "uhm, that sounds great! I have work the next day, and I might need to leave Seaworld early so I'm not too zonked, but yeah, what fun! And no, I didn't know about this particular festival. For once."

Veronica's laughter resounded from the phone. "Excellent! See you then?"

"You bet." Claire agreed, nodding to herself. "Do you want me to pick you up, vice versa, or we just meet at the motel?" she asked.

"Let's just meet there. Remember the Holiday Inn we stayed at with Danielle?"

"Yes," Claire affirmed.

"Well, how 'bout I make the reservations, and you get there at, say…twelve? That way we have a few hours before the festival starts. We aren't going to split the price either. Call it an early birthday present." Veronica said.

"Oh, you can't! That's too nice! I won't let you." Claire said, laughing.

"Oh please. It's not everyday my best friend turns twenty-five. C'mon, you know you want me to pay for it. Those dumb bosses of yours at the maritime museum don't pay you nearly enough. C'monnnn!" Veronica stubbornly coaxed.

"Alright, alright you win. Thanks so much. Is there anything I can-" Claire was cut off when her friend interrupted.

"Stop being so polite! We've known each other since middle school. Well, you were homeschooled, but you know what I mean!" Veronica chided affably.

"Thank you once again so much." Claire gasped happily.

"Of course, me hearty!" Veronica replied, impersonating a pirate, somewhat lamely. "Arr! Now, back ter swabbin' the deck! Okay, see you Saturday!"

"Bye!"

"Bye!"

With a click, Veronica hung up. Laughing giddily, Claire twirled and collapsed on her couch, grinning madly. She was looking forward to this tremendously.

-x-

Chapter II, part II

The drive from Oxnard was long but not laborious, and Claire was pleased that the traffic weren't like the doldrums today. Haha, similar the doldrums the Flying Dutchman got stuck in, or whatever. There were so many different versions of the story, she didn't know which one she liked best.

First, there was the tale of how the Dutchman was captained by, well, a Dutchman. He had made a deal with the East India Trading Company, and wanted to meet up with their fleet around the Cape of Good Hope, or the horn of Africa. There, the crazed captain got stuck in a hurricane, but he blindly insisted they continue. Due to his foolishness, he and his crew were cursed forever for some inane reason.

Another story was he had sold his soul to the devil, doomed to sail for eternity with his ghost crew. Claire's mother told her that one as a child; the result was her inability to sleep that night, wildly insisting that the captain of the Dutchman was "Out to get her and eat her soul!"

Claire snorted, with a half-grin. Yeah, right. But hey, she was a kid! Besides, she still needed to keep at least one light on when watching Dracula, or the likes.

Tapping her fingers idly to an unknown tune on the steering wheel, she thought of one other prominent take on the legend.

The captain was Davy Jones himself, bound to ferry souls to the other side, sentenced by the Goddess Calypso. The last that was heard of him, he had failed to do his duty, and had transformed into a hideous creature, and perished in a furious maelstrom.

Claire knew that one at least was complete tosh, as she liked to say. First off, everyone was aware that Calypso was a Greek nymph, not some Goddess. Second, the whole thing sounded too fabricated, even for a myth.

Of course Claire liked to believe in faeries and Harry Potter just like everyone else. But some stories were just too ridiculous.

-x-

Locking her car, -a silver Camry, compliments from her parents- Claire entered the Holiday Inn lobby, smiling politely at the desk manager. When she approached, the manager asked civilly, "How may I help you?"

"Uhm, there should be a room reservation in the name of Veronica Johnson?" Claire asked unsurely, resting her arms on the false granite counter. The manager frowned, staring at her computer screen.

"No, I'm sorry. Is there another name, perhaps?"

Claire bit her lip thoughtfully. That was odd. Did Veronica forget to call? She was usually on top of things if she said she'd do it. This could be a bad start to their short getaway.

"Maybe Claire Peterson?" She offered.

The manager shook her head after a click of the mouse. Claire always wondered how they did that so quickly. What if their hands moved too fast for the human eye to register? Nah.

"Not that either. Are you sure that you have a reservation in this hotel?" The manager suggested. Claire said nothing, thinking hard. Maybe she had taken a wrong turn off the freeway? But no. Veronica did say the motel where they'd stayed with Danielle before, and the parking lot looked familiar. But hey, she could always call Veronica or ask for a spare room.

Then an idea hit her. Claire's nutty friend liked to make her guess.

"Maybe b-day girl, or pirate girl, or something. Try that, please."

The manager checked the screen again, the blue light reflecting on her face and hands.

"Well, we actually have b-day girl in our registry." She said, smiling warmly. It reminded Claire of her own mother, oddly enough. "May I see your photo ID?"

"Yeah, of course." She said, pulling her wallet out of her purse, -with a skull and crossbones on it, naturally- and slid it onto the counter.

"Thank you," The manager said after leaning over to see it better. "Okay, Ms. Peterson. You're all set to go. Room three twenty-nine, second floor."

"Could I have a map please?" Claire asked shyly. She always got lost in these places, even if she had been there before. It was hilarious and slightly embarrassing, but true. Once, she had circled a shopping mall two times before spotting the entrance.

"Sure." The manager pulled out a map from below the counter, and ran over the path Claire needed to take with a highlighter. "And here's your key." She added, putting the card out as well.

"Thanks, Claire said, snatching them both. "Have a nice day."

"You too." The manager replied back cheerily.

-x-

Lugging her heavy suitcase along the outside hallways, Claire paused occasionally to consult her much-needed map. She didn't see Veronica's car in the parking lot, so that meant she'd have to do this on her own.

Three twenty-seven, three twenty-eight, three twenty-nine. "There we go…" Claire murmured to herself, plopping her monstrous suitcase on the ground and pulling out the keycard to open the door. She was reaching for the zipper on her purse again when the door suddenly swung open.

Claire looked up, surprised.

"Hey!" Veronica was standing there, dressed in a denim skirt and spaghetti strap top, with dark sunglasses perched at the peak of her head. Blonde curls cascaded down her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled merrily. She was far taller than Claire, and her slim body looked almost unnatural. She always marveled at her friend's model-like beauty. It was almost strange Veronica worked as columnist, not right up there on the cat-walk with Eve or Heidi Klum.

"How many guesses did it take?" she asked excitedly, stooping down to help bring Claire's suitcase in.

"About three or four," she answered, following and bolting the door shut behind them. "Thanks for bringing in the suitcase. And paying. And making a reservation. And suggesting this." Claire kept adding, laughing.

"No prob'," Veronica said assuredly, waving away the thank you's with a gesture of her carefully manicured hand. "Gosh, Claire. What do you keep in this thing?" she asked, pointing at the suitcase, which was sitting innocently in their tiny closet.

She shrugged. "I'm an over-packer. You can call it family genetics. I don't go on any trip without at least ten pairs of underwear. You know that." She smiled at her own exaggeration. "Oh, and by the way, where's your car? I didn't see it in the lot."

Veronica moved over to one of the queen beds, sitting down on the edge. "I borrowed Danny's SUV for the weekend." She said, naming her current boyfriend of the past four months, a near record for her.

"Why's that?" Claire asked in mock suspicion, beginning to take her sneakers off.

"For your suitcase." Veronica answered seriously. "Kidding! Well, I figured we might, y'know, get a few extra souvenirs." She shrugged, emphasizing the word.

"Like what, two motorcycles?" Claire asked with good-natured sarcasm.

"No way! Like guys."

Claire stopped tugging her socks off halfway. "I thought you and Danny were going good. Besides, isn't it kinda awful to be cheating on him using his own truck?"

"Not for me, silly." Veronica said, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing. "For you. Martin was a jerkoff, and- of course you didn't know he was, initially," she added hastily, seeing Claire's hardened expression, "-so I figured since you haven't dated in a while, and you are still a virgin, I might hook you up with a couple guys I meet. I'll snag 'em, you take 'em."

"Thanks, Vera. But I just want to wait a while. I don't want to rush it, and I certainly don't want you to be finding them for me, no offence. Our choices in men are…varied." She said carefully, stuffing her socks in the sneakers, she began her quest for the TV remote, eager to change the subject.

Veronica was sweet by trying to get her to find a new boyfriend, but Claire's last relationship was…difficult. Martin seemed nice, at first. Of course they all do, sure. So they got together, -not married, no, but just together- and it seemed fine. But then after a few dinners and trips, Martin was expecting something Claire wasn't ready to give.

Turned out the guy was a complete maniac. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. Fortunately, Claire snatched the phone, starting to call the police, and the man fled. Serves him right, the creep. That was ten months ago, and she wasn't ready to start a new relationship. Not yet, at least.

"Come on!" Veronica whined, pulling at the back of Claire's locks playfully. "I know you like those…committed guys…" she lowered her voice, rolling her eyes, "So I'll pick carefully. I'll even introduce you, and let you decide. Plus if we snag 'em at the pirate festival, you know you'll have some common interests.

"No thanks," Claire insisted, plucking the remote out of a drawer and, flopping onto her bed, she turned it on. "What channel you want?" she asked. The distraction worked.

"Lemme see the guide first," Veronica said, finally giving up on her incessant nagging.

"Okay." Claire was relieved that her friend didn't press further.

It was too soon. She was too tender, too sore, and she was still having nightmares, thinking of him.