Men Overboard

Looks can be deceiving. Hairstylist Aaron Turner doesn't consider himself overweight, just under height. As stylish as he is outgoing, he brings a Carrie Bradshaw like wardrobe in extra large and a fierce attitude to this adventure on the high seas, not knowing that a killer has come along for the week long cruise as well. Friends Aaron Turner and Phillip Baxter have not yet settled in when the bodies begin piling up. The best pals begin to think the passengers of the Titanic booked better tickets when they find themselves linked to the dead bodies. Becoming suspects, they must clear their names before the ship returns to Fort Lauderdale. Without a weapon, Aaron is left with only his wit to try and capture a killer before he becomes part of the body count. Luckily, his tongue is as sharp as his styling razor, so he is up to the task with flair and bravado! Excerpt: "You haven't been on a vacation in six years and have already paid, so take me! It'll be fun. You work way too much and have taken the time out of your schedule. If you don't go now, when? Are you gonna wait until Streisand goes back to Broadway or the Pope begins performing gay weddings?" Aaron had "slept with men, women and the odd piece of furniture." Raised dirt poor in a trailer on the outskirts of Yakima, he had worked his way to the top of Seattle's fierce hairstyling scene and now pampered himself accordingly. While he had grown up with curling linoleum flooring and an outhouse, he now considered arriving without reservations roughing it. Humming, Aaron left the spacious cabin, moving down the long narrow corridor smiling and saying "Hello darling!" to everyone he met, one of his standard greetings. The words worked especially well when he couldn't remember a name attached to a face. Near the end of the long hallway Aaron could not help stopping next to the partially open door of a balcony view cabin. A young shirtless blond was sprawled in one of the club chairs, head back, rosebud shaped lips slightly parted. His radiant beauty caught Aaron's breath. Stepping closer to the doorway, the hairstylist looked in for a moment before clearing his throat. Aaron loved men. His feelings and instincts were as natural as his eye color, as natural as a celebrity needs attention or certain members of congress enjoy bathroom sex. He loved the way men smelled, looked, walked and talked. One would never have been enough and dating all of the men in the world would never have been too many for the somewhat round stylist. He broke men into three categories: those who were convinced they would always be in long term relationships; those who thought Mr. Right was never to be found; and those in his favorite category who knew how to flirt and enjoyed the buffet of men that life offered. As Aaron himself fell into that last group, he changed men with an alarming regularity which his best friend never understood. Aaron could have sex, a date and be engaged with a series of different guys all in the space of one evening out. The popular stylist felt that, like soda and abs, boys should be six packed. Getting no response from the young man in the chair, Aaron stretched out a hand and tapped on the open door. "Helllooo," he called a bit louder, and getting no reply, he stepped into the sunlit cabin. "I hate to be a bother but I seem to be a little lost. Will this corridor lead me to the promenade deck?" While he and Phillip had flown all night from Seattle, this kid must have come in on a high from Thailand or Maui Wowie from the way he was zonked out. Reaching over to stroke a hand onto the bare, tan skin of the young man's muscular shoulder, Aaron smiled, then recoiled his fingers. The sun bronzed flesh was cold to his touch. Stepping in between the wide spread legs of the young blond, Aaron chanced a further peek over into his face to find a pair of bright blue eyes open and staring back at him blankly.