“Oh, we dock here off season too, and we let his kid come and hang out and play on the boat. Umberto and Paco know each other from way back. I think they crewed on the same boat back in the day. It’s a small world in the hospitality industry, especially in the mega-yacht world.”

“You call yourselves yachties, right?”

“Sadly, yes.” She pushed open an interior door. “Anyway, you ready?”

I nodded.

Music and laughter blared out. The music was something from the nineties but over a dance beat. Inside, the club was dimly lit. There was a central oval area surrounded by red velvet covered benches and round tables occupied by small groups of people. A long bar backed with smoky antique glass covered one end of the room and at the other was a white light-tiled dance floor and a DJ booth. It didn’t feel overly busy, but we still had to edge in at the bar. Andrea flagged down the bartender and in seconds I had a coupe of champagne, eighties style.

“This place is so old school, I love it!” Andrea yelled. She held out her glass to clink and we both toasted and then drank. The DJ began a dance mix of “Gangsta’s Paradise” and we hit the dance floor.

“You were right,” I told Andrea after an hour where we’d danced, had water, more champagne, and danced some more.

“What?” she yelled.

“This is so fun!” And I’d needed it so much.

She nodded with a grin.

Since it was early and most of the groups there were part of couples, no one had really approached us to dance with them. But men sure watched us. Some girls too. We may not have been the most gorgeous or glamorous in the place, but even I knew there was something mesmerizing and attractive about a person full of joy and happiness. And for a few hours, that was exactly how I felt. The room filled. I was gently but firmly pulled into the embrace of a guy with swept back blond hair and ripped jeans and a Dolce and Gabbana t-shirt who barely looked like he was out of high school. He was absolutely beautiful but far too young for me. I laughed at his overblown confidence and enjoyed two songs with him. At least he was respectful about where his hands went. Andrea danced with his friend. When they tried to urge us off the dance floor, indicating a dark corner of benches, we declined and my guy held a hand to his chest, feigning a mortal wound. But it didn’t take long for them to find new conquests.

My hair clung to my neck, and it got smokier and warmer as more people showed up. I made a drink motion to Andrea and we forced our way through to the now crowded bar. After a glass of water, I motioned to the ladies room.