Ameera, Unveiled (24 page)
I looked through an arched doorway to see a baby grand piano standing below a circle of stools and tables in the center of the room. A polished brass rail prevented intoxicated guests from stumbling into the recessed piano area.
“One margarita, please.” Jennifer ordered at the bar. She turned to look at the piano room. Her eyes panned the room and she froze. “Don’t look all at once . . . but check out the stallion.”
We all looked in the direction of her stare.
“Geez guys, I said not to be so obvious!” Jennifer blushed and turned back to the bar. She picked up her drink.
“He’s hot. Think he’s a swinger?” Kelly asked.
“He’s not in a naughty costume,” Denise observed. “But why else would he be here?”
“Stop staring, guys,” Jennifer urged us. She held a drink to her mouth and sipped through a tiny cocktail straw in as sexy a manner as one could. Turning back to the piano room, she locked stares with him—again.
“Good lord, y’all. You might as well get a room and get it over with,” Polly said.
“You wanna go in there?” I asked.
“No. Show me the disco. Is that okay?” Jennifer asked. We turned and left the bar to head back to the disco.
“You crazy, Jenn?” Kelly asked, looking at her intently. “That man’s smokin’ hot!”
“We’ve got all week, right?” Jennifer asked, strolling as if he were staring at her through the door of the piano bar.
I looked over my shoulder. There he was, standing in the doorway, watching us walk away.
“Y’know he’s watching, right?” I asked.
“I hope so.” Jennifer giggled and sipped her drink. “I feel like a cat with a mouse. You guys have no idea how much I needed this vacation.”
We all laughed at Jennifer’s new attitude since her divorce.
“It feels so good to be out of a bad marriage, playing in Jamaica, and on the hunt,” she added. Polly high-fived her. “Let’s dance.”
“Did I tell y’all there’s a pole on stage?” I asked.
“Me first!” Denise volunteered.
Kelly acted as though she were racing to beat Denise. “Remember who you room with!”
Giggling like schoolgirls, we drifted out of sight of the stallion. As we approached the bridge to somewhere, we bumped into Ruth and Sybil.
“Where’ve you been? What’ve you seen?” Sybil asked.
“Name it. Kelly did body painting, Kat and Polly checked out the disco, and I saw a hot man in the piano bar,” Jennifer oozed. “H-O-T man. Where’ve you been?”
“We’ve been meeting with staff and managers,” Sybil said. “Trying to figure out the class and shows. Hot man, huh?”
“We’re headed to the disco now to see if it’s a good place to practice,” Ruth added.
“It’s large enough, but the floor’s sticky,” Polly shared. “Staff seems nice. You can see what you might not wanna see in the peek-a-boo windows. Lots of people pass by on a bridge that looks down into the room.”
“Lead the way,” Sybil said.
“Oh my word!” Kelly exclaimed as we reentered the grotto bar.
Polly led the group to lights flashing from the dance floor inside the arched room. The beat of “Electric Avenue” flooded the speakers.
“No one’s here,” Jennifer said. “But there’s a pole! This is awesome!” she exclaimed, looking up at the window on the ceiling.
“What’cha think?” Polly asked Sybil. She pointed to the ceiling.
Sybil discovered the overhead Jacuzzi floor and bay window. She and Ruth walked to the bay window without comment. I saw them looking up toward the bridge. They waved and turned back toward us.
“I think the disco’ll work for morning practices. But you’re right . . . the floor’s a little sticky. We’ll ask to use this space and have access to a CD player at our meeting,” Sybil said.
“Flashdance!” Kelly squealed, heading to the dance pole. “What a Feeling” followed the previous song. Ruth and Sybil pulled Denise to the front of the room. Polly and Jennifer grabbed my hand.
“Let’s dance, Kat,” Jennifer said.
Kelly used her best pole-dancing tricks. She circled, stopped and dropped, and popped up, swinging her skirt hem. Her butterfly flashed as she twirled.
Hedo guests straggled in as we took turns on the dance pole. With drinks in hand, they claimed bleacher seats. Some joined us on the dance floor; others sat and watched. Sybil and Ruth drifted toward the door and slipped out.
I danced through the crowd to our bleacher, claimed my drink, and settled in. It’d been a long day. As my three new friends reveled in disco energy, other patrons pulled them into their dance circles. The big, blond cheerleader with an entourage of naughty guests took charge of the room.
Jennifer parted the sea of dancers to walk over to me. “This is surreal,” she said. “I’m so glad we’re here . . . and I’m so glad you came. I want one more drink. Come with me?”
“Sure,” I said. I hopped down and we left the pulsing dance room. We found an open spot at the end of the bar, nearest the door. As we approached it, a group of younger guests, some more intoxicated than others, huddled in front of the pool window, heads raised as if anticipating the arrival of something—or someone—on the other side of the window. The bartender came over, ignoring the giddy group’s noise levels.
“White Russian and . . .” Jennifer looked at me.
“Chardonnay?” I said. “So what did you think about that gorgeous man in the piano bar? Are you ready to dip your toe into the romance pool?”
“There was so much connection when our eyes locked,” she said, drifting away for a moment in memory. “I’m not looking for a husband. What do you think of a fling in Jamaica?”
“In Hedonism?” I asked warily. “What if he’s a swinger? A hot swinger? Please be careful.” We stared at each other then burst into laughter. “A fling at Hedonism. Who’d’ve thought it?”
Our three MIA dancers joined us at the bar. “I’m ready to see the beach,” Kelly said. “I asked one of the guests. She said it’s at the end of that bridge up there.”
“I’m fading, guys. I’ll wait till tomorrow. See you at the room, Kat?” Polly asked.
“Be there in a few,” I promised. “I’ll check out the beach real quick. Got my key,” I patted my back pocket. Polly gave polite hugs to each of us before she left the disco.
A new group entered as we left. “See you tomorrow,” Jennifer said to the bouncer. He nodded and showed his beautiful smile.
As she climbed the stairs, Kelly’s slight sway was apparent. “Y’all, I think I’ve got a buzz,” she announced. Denise looked over her shoulder at us and mouthed, “Y’think?”
As we headed toward the bridge, we were approached by a photographer. “Ladies, a picture?” he asked.
In good belly dancer form, chests lifted, chins tilted, and smiles frozen, we posed. He took three. “Tanks,” he said. “Chu cun find dem on da website,” he said, handing us his card.
“I’m gonna see the beach,” Kelly said. As she walked off, she mooned us and the photographer. “Woo-hoo!” When she flashed her blue thong in our faces again, the photographer got a shot.
“Let’s catch her,” Denise said. “She’s almost ready to tell everyone how much she loves us.”
I watched Denise go into “mommy” mode while I enjoyed a leisurely stroll, observing palms rustling in the night sea breeze.
When we reached the beach, Kelly headed to a cabana with a blue-and-white striped mattress. In the distance, hammocks swung between palms flanked by white plastic chairs bearing cobalt-blue cushions.
“I hear people out there,” Jennifer said. “Guess it’s skinny-dipping time.” We strolled through the white sand to the beach-bed cabana.
“I can’t believe I’m in Jamaica with my favorite friends,” Kelly said, reclining and staring at the stars. “I miss my dog though.”
“Grouper’s fine,” Denise reassured Kelly about her dog. “Remember, ladies . . . we need to be at the meeting by 8:00 a.m. I’m going back to the room. You coming, Kelly?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said. “Don’t know if I can get back up the stairs though.”
“We can cut across the beach,” Denise said. “We’re right there, Kelly.” She pointed toward the silhouetted buildings.
“I need to get some sleep too,” I said. “I’ll go back the other way. I don’t wanna step on something.”
“I’m by your room, Kat,” Jennifer said. As we started up the stairs, I saw the silhouette of Kelly’s head on Denise’s shoulder and overheard Kelly’s “buzz” talking . . . “I love you.”
“How did Denise know she’d say that?” I asked Jennifer.
“Two things you can count on with Kelly,” she answered. “One? You’ll see her butt a lot. Two? She loves everyone when she gets a buzz,” Jennifer shared. “I’ll let you in on one more: she loves bald men.”
“Then I guess you’ll have less competition for the stallion!” I said.
Jennifer laughed as we made our way to our rooms.
The breakfast buffet buzzed with Hedo guests wearing summer clothing. Diners in shorts, tank tops, and sandals heaped eggs, pancakes, fruit, and pastries on their plates. I took a couple of pieces of bacon with a spoonful of eggs accented with hot sauce. A cold Diet Coke reserved my spot at the table with Jennifer.
“Morning, Kat,” Jennifer greeted me cheerfully. “Everything looks different than it did last night, huh?” Denise and Kelly had beaten me to the table.
“No kidding,” I said. “Can’t wait for pajama night!” We all chuckled.
“Looks like a good day for the beach,” Denise said. “I assume we’ll get recreational time.”
“Our class isn’t on the activities board yet,” Jennifer said as she poked her pancake. “Guess we’ll know our schedule around eight.” Her orange gypsy skirt helped cover a black bathing suit that was accented by a straw cowboy hat and a turquoise necklace.
“How do you feel today, Kelly?” I asked. She was nursing a mug of coffee.
“Y’all should’ve cut me off sooner,” she answered.
“Is that before the ‘I love yous’ or when you flashed the photographer?” Denise teased.
Kelly’s face reddened. “Did I really?”
We all nodded.
“Where’re they posting those? Y’all, we need to get rid of ’em.”
“I’m sure that isn’t the first ass he’s taken a picture of,” Jennifer teased.
“But it’s my ass!” Kelly said, slumping over her coffee. “Where’s Polly?”
“She’s been up, worked out, probably run through the whole show, and already had breakfast,” I said. “Who knows? She’ll be here by eight.”
“I went shelling this morning. Ruth came with me to look for birds,” Denise volunteered. “The beach is beautiful.”
The dining room filled and emptied steadily. Ruth soon joined us, her sleeveless khaki shirt accented by a major set of binoculars.
“Sybil’s getting the entertainment manager,” Ruth said. She laid her binoculars on the table. “They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
Polly and Melody drifted in and pulled up two more chairs.
I looked toward the lobby and saw Sybil. She was walking beside a Jamaican man in his early thirties. He carried a clipboard and wore an all-business face.
“He looks like a lot of fun,” Melody said sarcastically. “Shouldn’t you look fun when you’re in charge of entertainment?”
He wasn’t even near our table and we already felt a killjoy air about him.
“Good luck, Jenn,” I said, without moving my lips.
Jennifer put on her most charming smile and stood to shake his hand.
“Ladies, this is the entertainment manager, Rich,” Sybil said. “Rich, these’re the members of Palmetto Oasis Middle Eastern Dance Troupe.”
We all said, “Hello.”
“Nice to meet you,” he droned, sat, and placed his clipboard in front of him. “I understand my corporate office sent you here?”
We nodded politely.
“On behalf of our staff, enjoy your time on the beach and in the restaurants, and please honor our no-tipping rule. Questions?”
“We’re here to teach belly dance classes,” Jennifer spoke first. “We noticed we aren’t on the activities board. Do you have a time or location for us yet?”
Sybil nodded her approval as Rich snorted and shifted in his chair. “Where were you thinking of teaching?”
“We noticed you’ve got a nice fitness room with mirrors,” Jennifer suggested. “Is there a time it isn’t being used?”
He flipped a page and scanned the clipboard. “The fitness center’s available at 1:30 p.m. I can give you an hour before an aerobics class starts there at three. Are we done?”
I sensed the confusion everyone was feeling. We’d expected to be made part of the week’s itinerary and receive a warmer welcome. I privately wondered whether I’d signed up for this trip in vain, leaving my husband alone on our anniversary.
“Yes. The company rep asked us to prepare two shows,” Jennifer added. “Could we use the disco in the mornings to practice?”
“I’ll let you know about a show,” he said. As he stood, he looked at Sybil, “I’ll have Jazz make sure the disco’s open by 7:00 a.m. I need to be in a meeting.” He walked back toward the lobby.
“Anyone else feel like you got shot by a stun gun?” Polly asked.
“I’ll work on the show with the resort manager,” Sybil said. “No worries, mon!” Her voice, full of reassurance, melted the chill Rich had left behind.
“I’ll go to the front desk and have them print a sign to tape beside the activities board,” Denise suggested. “Shall we start tomorrow?”
“We need to come up with some way to tell guests who may not look at the board,” Sybil suggested. “Let’s meet at the beach and brainstorm.”
“Prude side, please?” Melody requested. We laughed.
“Hey, we’ll have the beach to ourselves!” Kelly said.
I’d tried to erase the question we were all thinking: Had we come here for nothing? Polly and I walked toward our room in silence. A hummingbird whizzed from the hibiscus bush at our door as we let ourselves in.
“Did you feel dissed by that guy?” Polly asked.
Carefully choosing my words, I said, “I don’t think he expected us . . . or maybe we aren’t what he expected. Did you read some of those class topics on the activities board? Dirty Joke Telling? Naked Twister? You’d think the guests would jump at belly dancing.” I grabbed beach clothes out of my suitcase and moved into the bathroom.
“I don’t know,” Polly yelled from the room. “That guy said a lot by not saying much.”
I stripped, brushed my teeth, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. As I looked in the mirror, I asked myself,
Did I come all this way for nothing
? It wasn’t that I was pining over the possibility of not performing. But I hated to just hang out and party for a week after hauling two suitcases laden with dance scarves and costumes with me.
