SHIPPED         OFF

  SYNOPSIS

Because a gay passenger goes missing on a cruise ship, it causes a massive search of the vessel. Is the missing man dead, injured in some part of the ship or…drugged? If drugged, who did this? And how does the deepening mystery affect the relationships of three people…Gordon, Matt and Daniel? What is the possessive hold that Daniel has on Matt?

EXCERPT FROM SHIPPED OFF-WRITTEN BY  GORDON BLITZ:         

Sunday January 3, 2016 10:00 a.m. Santa Monica

GORDON

My shoes felt like bricks. When I took my ten thousand-step walk around Santa Monica, each bone in my foot crushed against the cement sidewalk. I forged on, ignoring the pain. The doctor told me it was tendonitis. Since walking was my only tolerable exercise, I couldn’t follow his directions to ease off. Mentally I was unprepared to give up my only source of raging endorphins. Walking was breath to me especially since my daily anti-depressant Wellbutrin hadn’t been working.

I recognized Matt from a block away by the outskirts of the Santa Monica College campus. The bounce in his step was his calling card. His five-ten muscle-laden frame was irresistible. His unruly silver hair gave him a goofy joy. We hug.

Friends for twenty years and he doesn’t realize I’ve had a crush on him. I’m petrified to jeopardize this rock of a friendship. My ten-year age difference is a severe stumbling block. His addiction to younger men makes me off limits. And I’m not a gym junkie like Matt. I’m not ‘his type’ is an unspoken language of our friendship. But Matt’s shallow traits are overshadowed by his genuine charitable kindness. He volunteers as a big brother. He gravitates towards the homeless. Matt will share food and money with street people.  

Matt is a legal secretary for William Morris Agency. The attorney he works for, handles contracts for television writers and producers. He puts in gargantuan hours but at least he’s well paid.

“Matt, I want to throw something out to you. I have this phobia about water. My therapist insists I take a cruise to alleviate my fears. Would you consider taking one of those cheapie Mexican Riviera seven-day Carnival Cruises?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been on a cruise. Will I get seasick? Stir crazy?”

“No, they tell me it’s mild waters. I’ve heard there is so much to do. They have a workout room, pool, entertainment, piano bar, and all the food you can eat. It’s $600 for seven days.”

“Really. Let me think about it.”

“It’s the one-year anniversary of my mom’s death. This funk I’m feeling is frustrating. I feel like I’ve been cooped up in my condo. The solo walking, I do is lonely. The cruise would force me to confront passengers.”

“Okay it’s only seven days. I haven’t had a vacation in years. And maybe it will do my skin some good. I never get enough sun. And the sea air will help my allergies and asthma. Sure, I’ll go.”

I love his spontaneity. I booked the cruise within a day. We would depart from Long Beach the first week in March. Two months to get ready. Matt convinces his boss to give him the time off with a promise that when he returns, he’ll work on a contract for some big honcho Television producer. They’re doing a reboot of a classic sit-com from the nineties. Matt acquires sea sickness patches for both of us as a backup. Our first cruise.

 **************************************

Thursday March 3, 2016 1:00 p.m. Long Beach

GORDON

The grueling check in process takes hours in Long Beach. Our ship is called Carnival Splendor. This floating city towers over us as we wind our way up the gangplank. The shaking of the gangplank as we walk aboard nibbles away at my confidence. I have seven days to fight off my neurotic ocean fears. Then a photographer stops us. And when I put my arm around Matt’s shoulder, I’m disappointed that Matt doesn’t stare into my eyes for the snapping picture.

 When we finally get to our cabin we collapse from exhaustion. We squirm through the tight efficiently used cabin space. The furnishings are miniaturized. And the bathroom is like a compact cage for only one animal. The small porthole is very different from the brochure explanation of ocean view. The twin beds are separated. Standard practice setup unless the cabin steward is notified. I wish they’d been accidentally aligned.

As long as I don’t look at the ocean, my phobia seems to be in check. The gentle movement reassures me that I can handle this. I cleared the hurdle of the safety drill where rescue operations procedures were detailed if we hit an iceberg. My therapist would be proud.

After dinner and the ship’s Broadway-themed entertainment, Matt suggests we check out the bar where Friends of Dorothy are meeting. This is a sweet homage to Judy Garland and the Wizard of Oz appeal to gay and lesbians. The glass elevator sweeps us to the upper stratosphere of the ship. We stroll to the Cruiser Bar. We don’t recognize anyone remotely gay or lesbian. We order a couple of beers and nurse them as we wait for our people to arrive.

“This is a bust. Maybe we are the only gays on this cruise.” I explain.

         “Come on let’s go to the disco. Maybe we’ll see guys there.”

“It’s on the next level. Follow me.”

Sure enough, when we hear the blasting decibel music there are a bunch of guys dancing together. We join in. You can’t go wrong with Janet Jackson. “Runaway” from her Design of The Decade is filling the room. The deejay has the pulse of the crowd. Twenty years ago, that was on the charts. God 1995 was a good year.

I was thirty-five. Dreariness hadn’t clutched at me. My lover Harry and my mom were alive. I just want to dance. An unfamiliar song pumps the floor and disgusts me as my energy begins to lag. The ringing in my ears is annoying.

Matt escapes and gravitates toward some young twinkie.

“Matt, I’m going back to my room. I’ve had enough.” I scream into his ear. How can you spend time with this infant? I wanted to say. Matt is such a contradiction. He’s vice-president of our temple. He tells me how much time he spends in committee meetings. Trying to increase membership. He has such a strong belief in God and yet he’s acting like a jerk tonight.

 He smiles as I leave. My anger is in check on my walk back to our deck and cabin. I could kill him. I just assumed he’d follow my lead. Tonight, would have been a night I could pounce but I’ll be in slumber land when he drags himself back. Maybe he’ll be respectfully quiet and I won’t notice. I am exhausted. Nothing is going to interrupt my sleep.

The beds are richly inviting with the top sheet delicately pulled back. A bird shaped by a white towel sits on my bed. Chocolate candies circle the bird. A card says My name is Alfonso. I’ll take care of all your needs during your seven-day cruise. I love being taking care of. Sleep comes easily and lasts for eight hours.