Ameera, Unveiled (25 page)

“Bathroom’s yours,” I said, carrying my breakfast clothes. “If we teach and practice in the gym, there’ll be glitter everywhere to remind them we’re here. Maybe it’ll make them think we’re a force to be reckoned with,” I laughed. “We’ll glitter ’em to death.”

Polly laughed as she smothered her face with sunscreen. I watched from the end of my bed, resisting the urge to check myself in the mirror above. “Let’s go, pokey.”

She dabbed on lip gloss, slipped into wedges, and grabbed a huge straw flower-petal hat and sunglasses. “Kinda odd that you don’t need money here. Still not used to it,” she said.

“Come on, Miss Priss,” I said. I was au natural with flip-flops and a straw visor.

“Hey, I need to find me a stallion,” Polly said.

“The map showed a path near Denise and Kelly’s building that dumps us at the Prude beach,” Polly pointed. Instead of forking to the dining room and pool, we hung a left.

As we got closer, the vista revealed a small bar cabana, canopy beds, and a pool complete with a floating pool table. White plastic chairs with deep-blue cushions lined the shoreline.

“Look at these rocks scattered along the sidewalk,” I said, stooping to collect one. It was painted and dated with Tempera paints. “We were wicked . . . Steph and Michael ’06,” it read. They’d tried to draw a spectacular sunset background behind their message. “There’re hundreds of ’em.”

Polly showed me a rock with boobs signed by Save the Ta-tas . . . complete with painted pink ribbon. “Hey, our Susan Komen cause is with us in Hedo! Can’t wait to walk with our troupe team next year,” she said, placing it with the others.

We passed the small poolside bar. The bartender was setting up.

“Bloody Marys?” I asked.

“Ten minutes,” he answered, smiled, and turned back to his liquor shelf.

I saw another shack at the end of the path and pointed. “Hey, let’s check that out.”

“Sure,” Polly agreed as we continued down the path instead of veering toward the beach.

“It’s a snack shack,” I said. We reviewed the menu: sandwiches, hotdogs, and hamburgers. French fries. Grilled chicken. Served till 5:00 p.m.

“That’s cool. We won’t have to settle for buffet every meal,” Polly said. “It’ll be nice to grab a quick burger on the beach.”

As we retraced our steps, an elderly nude man bobbed by. His pirate do-rag gave us something to look at other than body parts affected by gravity. We avoided each other’s gaze to delay our laughter. As he passed, we saw a sign on a tree within feet of the snack shack that he’d come from.

“Nude Beach Only—No Photography,” Polly read aloud. “No problem, mon.” We burst into laughter. “Looks like we’re over there.”

Melody was heading toward a group of chairs ahead of us.

“Must be Sybil and Ruth,” I said, squinting at floats bobbing on the waters.

Denise and Kelly were rubbing on sunscreen.

I scanned the blue-cushioned chairs closest to the group and saw some were more stained than others. “Hope it’s mildew,” I said, reaching for a cleaner one. As I dragged the cushion to our improvised beach camp, I said, “Hey, guys, I overheard your doubts about this morning’s meeting. He didn’t seem to think much about our lesson plan or the practices. Think there’s a shot at a show?”

Melody, who was spreading her towel on a chair, perked up at my question.

“He was pretty dismissive,” Denise said. “I hope Sybil can get ’round him. I really wanted to do the classes.”

“Me too,” Kelly agreed. “I’m glad we aren’t doing anything today, but I do wanna dance. Can we get draft beer yet?” She laughed and adjusted her sunglasses.

“Prude bar should be serving about now.” I nodded in the direction of Sybil and Ruth. “Are we brainstorming out there?”

“Probably,” Denise said. “I’m waiting on Jenn.”

I hid all heat-sensitive items under my chair in a bag. “I’m getting a Bloody Mary. Any orders?” I asked, volunteering as bar wench.

“Hair of the dog,” Kelly said. “Make it a draft, if you can.” Denise raised her water bottle. Melody was already zoned and sunning.

“Polly?” I prompted.

“I’m good. Maybe at lunch,” she answered.

I made my way to the bar and began people-watching. Several mesh-covered patrons entered the forbidden photography path. The boats offshore slowed as they passed the rocky point that (I suspected) separated us from the Nude beach. Sea grapes stood guard, providing a little privacy now and shade at some point in the afternoon. I approached the Prude bar, smiling. “Hi, I’m Kat,” I said. “We’ll be on your beach for the next few days. Can I have one Bloody Mary and a draft beer?”

“No problem,” the bartender said. As I watched the quiet Prude pool, water shot from two large oxygenating jets at each end.

“Oh my. That’s a lot of effort for so few of us,” I remarked.

He grinned. “You’ll see more action soon.” He set down a cold beer. “Olives for the Bloody Mary?”

“If you’ve got ’em,” I answered, looking behind me at the empty volleyball area.

“Name’s Radd. Just got here?” he asked.

“I’m Kat. Yesterday afternoon,” I said. “We’re supposed to teach dance classes here.”

“What sorta dance classes?” he asked, stabbing two olives with a pink plastic sword.

“Belly dancing,” I said, acting empowered and normal.

His eyes bulged and connected with mine. “Really?” he asked, handing me the last drink.

“Really! Look for the glitter,” I said, winked, and went back to my girls.

“Thanks, Kat.” Kelly reached for her beer. “Maybe this’ll help my headache.”

I settled into a chair and watched Ruth and Sybil chat as they held on to their floats. “Hey, y’all, our seat cushions double as water floats. I wondered what Sybil was holding on to,” I said.

“Cool,” Denise said. “I’m surprised Ruth got out from behind her bird books to float. She’s one serious birder.”

The sound of approaching bangles drew our attention. Sybil waved as we saw Jennifer carrying a sparkly beach bag toward us. It was official: we were all at Belly Dance Beach Camp.

“Hi, ladies,” Jennifer said, elegantly sitting in a chair. She waved back at Sybil. “Anyone seen the stallion?” We shook our heads.

“If we do, you’re quite the glittery sunbather,” Melody said. “You look like a model, girl.”

Jennifer acted shy and blew a kiss to her. “I brought henna and my veil poi. Figured we might attract some attention to market our class.”

“From the looks of the Prude side, this isn’t a favorite beach,” Kelly said. “I’ve seen way more people headed down the Nude path.”

“I’m glad we’ve got a day to get things started,” Jennifer said. “There’s a reference to a lunch spin at 1:00 p.m. on the activities board. Mentioned a wet T-shirt contest. Maybe I should enter my perky breasts!” she added, lifting and dropping her chest as she put on sunscreen. We laughed. “Just kidding,” she added, and did her sexy chortle.

“I’d like to try the beach grill for lunch,” Denise said without looking up from her magazine. “They had a grilled chicken sandwich that sounded good.”

I raised my hand, as if we were taking a vote.

“You’re so good about sticking to your diet,” Kelly said, “and getting up early to exercise. Lordie, girl, you look amazing.” Her voice was muffled under by a beach towel over her head.

Denise beamed.

“Did you go on a diet?” I asked. I needed to try to catch up with the whos, whats, and wheres of my Jamaican companions. I prayed no one was sensitive to personal questions.

“Lost thirty-five pounds since I joined the troupe,” Denise boasted, pleased that I’d taken an interest. “And I’m blonde now and had laser surgery on my eyes.”

I looked at her bikini and couldn’t imagine thirty-five extra pounds on her five-foot-three frame.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “And I whine about holding on to eight.”

“I walk a lot,” Denise said. “Ruth and I did at least a mile on the beach before breakfast.”

“How’d you wind up belly dancing?” I asked.

“When Kelly asked if anyone in our lab wanted to take up belly dancing, I figured it’d help me with my self-image,” she said. “We got hooked at Sybil’s Mt. Pleasant class. That’s where we met Melody.”

“Remember when we tried out for the troupe and no one wanted us?” Melody recalled. “They were a scary, staring bunch of divas.”

“I didn’t want to let that affect the way I felt,” Denise said. “After my cheating husband humiliated me, I decided to work on myself. I’d let job and mothering take their toll on my ‘me’ time.”

“I’m sorry,” Polly said. “I’ll bet your ex sees what got away . . . if he even recognizes you.”

“She traded him in for a younger model,” Kelly said. “I love her new hubby . . . Elvis.”

Denise laughed. “I keep telling Elvis that when he’s forty, I’m trading him in for two twenty-year-olds.” Her Southern drawl added to our amusement.

“I’m going in the water for a bit. Anyone else?” Jennifer asked. “Might pick Sybil’s brain about marketing our class.”

Water-sport boats pulled out of the dock and headed for unknown destinations with Nudes and Prudes. I saw Ruth pointing at a frigate bird floating on air currents. Long Bay rolled gently toward the shore. There was just enough breeze to keep the beach from feeling like an oven.

“I’m in,” Denise said. “Come on, Kelly. Get that hangover wet.”

Kelly moaned.

“Kat, Polly—come on,” Melody invited as she pulled a float toward the water.

“I hate getting wet,” I muttered to Polly.

“But you scuba dive!” Polly protested. “And the company’ll be fun.”

“You dive in a wet suit,” I pointed out, “and I end many dives because I get too cold.”

In the end, I couldn’t bear being left out of the conversation. I joined Polly after covering our bags with the towels and dragging our floats toward the water.

“Just dunk in and get it over with,” Polly advised and in she went. I kept walking on my tiptoes, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Come on, ladies. Water’s great,” Sybil invited. “You too, Ms. Hollywood,” she said to Jennifer.

We climbed on our floats and kicked our way over to Sybil and Ruth, forming a circle.

“Can you believe we’re floating in a bay in Jamaica?” Sybil asked.

“I feel like I’m in a movie,” Melody said.

“Ruth and I’ve been discussing a way to tell people about the class,” Sybil said.

“I brought my henna and veil poi with me,” Jennifer said. “But unless the beach gets busier, I don’t see much chance for exposure.”

“That’s what we’ve been discussing,” Sybil agreed. “Who wants to get topless and walk over to the Nude side?”

All I heard was the gentle lapping of water. We looked at each other, wondering if this was a trick question. Jennifer broke the silence.

“I’ll drape myself in a veil and do it,” she said, grinning. “Beats a wet T-shirt contest. I think, out of respect for their area, it’s a good compromise without compromising our representation.”

“Me too! I’ve got cute, little boobies,” Kelly perked up and looked at me. I passed the look toward Polly.

“Hell, I’ll do it,” Polly agreed. “But we need to wear coin scarves. Make some noise so they look up. We’ll be like those massage girls who walk up and get you to book a spa package.”

“Three sounds about right,” Sybil said. “Before lunch or after?”

“Let’s do it around the time we’ll be teaching,” Denise answered.

“Good! Did you get the sign up by the activities board, Denise?” Sybil asked.

“Yep. Desk ladies are happy to help,” she reported. “Even gave me Scotch tape.”

“While I’m thinking about it . . . I had to change the reservation at the Japanese restaurant,” Sybil said. “They gave me 6:00 p.m. Apparently, it’s very popular. Everyone good with that?” We nodded and she continued. “We’ll eat at the Italian restaurant on Wednesday, after Lara gets here. That’s Jennifer’s birthday too!”

“Yeah!” Jennifer said. “Mardi Gras night. Lara and I’ll be going as good and evil fairies.”

“I’m keeping my costume secret,” Ruth said, nudging Sybil.

Looking around at these gorgeous, funny women, I felt a little emotional at the girlfriend/sisterhood that I’d so wanted my whole life suddenly materializing before me. My father’s military transfers had restricted me to a circle of sisters—my blood sisters. But childhood had turned into adulthood and geographically separated us.

Floating in the Jamaican bay in a circle was metaphoric. I was in the circle and part of it, and I wanted it to deepen.

“I’ve also arranged for us to go to Rick’s Cliffs and grab a bite at Rick’s Café tomorrow night,” Sybil went on. “There’s a shuttle that’ll take us there. Wear your suit if you wanna jump. Should be a phenomenal sunset.”

“I’m jumping,” Kelly said. “I’m doing it all!”

She was doing it all—body painting, pole dancing, flashing a Hedo photographer. I didn’t know whether I’d moon anyone, but I admired Kelly’s courage.

“I’ll take video at Rick’s,” Jennifer said. “If we’re done, I’m gonna get some sun. I’ll meet the Bod Squad at the Nude path by one twenty.”

“Do you wanna do some henna?” I asked.

“Sure.” Jennifer agreed, pulling from the circle and kicking toward shore. I followed her lead. The circle regrouped to keep chatting.