Vacation Therapy
Authors: Lance Zarimba
MLR Press, LLC
www.mlrpress.com
Copyright ©
Chapter 2—Fly the Friendly Skies
Chapter 4—Unpacking the Baggage
Chapter 19—A Walk in the Jungle
Chapter 27—And Even Worse News
Chapter 37—Blowing In The Wind
Chapter 40—What Waits in the Dark
Chapter 54—The Show Must Go On
Taylor's best friend, Molly, planned his perfect vacation. Checking into an all male resort, he and Sergio discover a dead body, which disappears. As Taylor stumbles over it again, the probelms have only started in this tropical paradise.
Taylor befriends the hottest male porn star, an angry drag queen, and a mystery novelist, whose new novel is paralleling Taylor's trip. Men ar dropping at his feet, dead, and Taylor needs to escape this trip to hell.
Mother Nature has other plans. Now, Taylor must blend in and with the hindrance of Sergio, he'll be in the spotlight for sure. This duo is turning Club Fred into Club Dead.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2011 by Lance Zarimba
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Published by
MLR Press, LLC
3052 Gaines Waterport Rd. Albion, NY 14411
Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:
www.mlrpress.com
Cover Art by Deana C. Jamroz
Editing by Neil Plakcy
ISBN# 978-1-60820-227-0
Issued 2011
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Speedo: Speedo Holdings
Nike: Nike, Inc.
American Tourister: Samsonite IP Holdings
7-Up: Dr. Pepper/Seven Up Inc.
Tecate: Cerveceria Mexicana
Bud Light: Anheuser—Busch, Inc.
Jose Cuervo: Tequila Cuervo La Rojena
Pepsi: Pepsico, Inc.
Nerf: Hasbro, Inc.
This book is dedicated to my Grandpa, Steve Zarimba Sr. and Grandma, Jean Zarimba. Thanks for buying me so many books as I grew up and giving me the gift of reading.
Vacation Therapy has been a long time in coming, and many people have helped along the way.
My Stacey (Quade) this one is for you. You have always been my number one fan and thank you for all the faith you have in me.
Thank you Laura Baumbach for seeing the fun in this book and giving Taylor and Sergio a chance to run wild in Mexico. Next Neil Plakcy, editor and friend, thanks for keeping me honest and making this book even better.
In Sioux Falls, the “Writers Without a Clause", Georgia Totten, Thea Miller Ryan, Nancy Steedle, and Amy Holm, thanks for listening to this book one chapter a week for over a year.
This book all started from a trip Dennis Peterson and I took to St. Martin in the middle of hurricane season, when the co-pilot's window blew out, we should have known better.
Thanks to Pat Dennis, Marilyn Victor, Wendy Nelson, Chris Everheart, and Gary Bush for helping with the Minneapolis version of this book. Pat and Gary at Once Upon A Time for making me feel like an author, even with only one short story.
Gary Johnson for all the fun at Bouchercon and Mayhem in the Midlands conferences.
Marilyn Meredith for the great critique that started the ball rolling.
Doris Ann Norris for supporting this book the first time around.
Paul McKenzie for all the support and love I could ever want or need. Thanks for your faith in my skills.
Ripley, I know you've listened to this book over and over again, thanks for taking me out for a ride, a walk, and a run around the house with your cape. Riley, I miss you.
I heard the sound of the shower running as I knocked on the bathroom door.
No answer.
Entering, I said, “I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?” The forceful spray drowned out my quiet apology
No response.
I spoke louder. “Are you okay?” I didn't see anything move behind the curtain. Stepping closer, I strained to hear. Only the sound of running water echoed in the small space.
A part of the shower curtain hung over the edge of the tub. A rivulet of water splattered on the tile, pooling into a rusty puddle.
"Is that water clean?"
Still no response.
Had he slipped and hit his head?
Panicked, I ripped the curtain open.
No one stood in the tub, but a big man lay in there on his back. His chin rested on his hairy chest as the water ran over him. Blood poured from his neck, ran along the opening of his black leather vest, and soaked into his denim shorts.
Bending over, I checked to see if he was breathing. As I reached down to feel for a pulse, a hand grabbed my shoulder.
I let out an unmanly shriek and turned...
A week in Mexico sounded like the perfect vacation; hot sun baking down on a sea of tan skin, while ocean waves gently broke on the white, sandy beaches. A soft breeze would caress the sweat from my brow as I read book after book and drank tall drinks with umbrellas in them. The ideal vacation spot; no phones, no patients, and no responsibilities. All alone. Just food, drinks, sun, and sleep. What more could I want?
Beads of perspiration ran down my brow as I finally found the right gate for the special charter flight to the all-inclusive resort. Everything I needed was jammed into one large carry-on. With the tropical temperatures, shorts and T-shirts didn't take up much room. My books took up more space than my clothing.
Was I finally in the right place? Everyone in the waiting area was male, and they all had deep, dark tans. They all looked like they had just come back from vacation, not like they were going
on
vacation.
I rubbed my arm, pale from the lack of sun. I looked like Casper, the friendly ghost; living in South Dakota and working full time didn't allow for much sun tanning. I plopped my luggage on the empty seat next to me and sat. I dug out my boarding pass and checked the flight numbers. They matched. Yeah, the right place.
I put the ticket back into my carry-on, pulled out a book and tried to read. The feeling of being observed came from all directions. I glanced up and noticed a few guys staring at me. I nodded and smiled.
Several smiled back, while others nodded. A few others’ eyes darted away. I returned to my book, but I couldn't concentrate. I was picking up a vibe.
I glanced around the waiting area. The men around me wore brightly colored shirts and shorts in waves of red, orange, and yellow. Maybe there was going to be a fashion shoot for a catalog at this resort.
"Flight 1069 to Guaymas Sonora, Mexico will be boarding in a few minutes. Anyone traveling with small children may pre-board at this time,” a woman's voice announced.
A low rumble of laughter came from the crowd at this announcement. I glanced at the woman standing at the podium and watched her face redden. Her shoulders rose in apology and she mouthed, “Sorry."
I smiled. They must be laughing because there wouldn't be any children on this flight due to the Club Med atmosphere. But the announcer was the only woman I saw. Then a thought struck me. Like a light bulb in a cartoon, a joke started to form in my mind, but it didn't make me laugh. I grabbed my carry-on, moved down the walkway, and pulled out my cell phone.
If you can't trust your friends, who can you trust in this world? I've trusted my best friend Molly with my life, several times. I've even trusted her with my dog's life, and that means
extreme
trust in my book.
Flipping it open, I scrolled through my contact list and pressed the number for Look Book, Sioux Falls’ only used bookstore. Molly had better be there.
"I have one question for you,” I said as soon as she picked up the phone. “Where did you get your information for my trip?"
"Taylor, aren't you supposed to be on vacation?” Molly asked.
"I'm waiting for my flight, but I need to know how you came up with Club Fred."
"From the travel agent."
"He recommended this place?"
"I didn't say that. When I went to Sergio's salon to get my hair done, he talked—"
"Crap."
"What's wrong, Taylor? You sound stressed."
"Last call for Flight 1069. All passengers must board at this time,” the overhead intercom boomed.
"Isn't that your flight?” Molly asked.
"Yes, but I don't think..."
"You don't have to think. You're on vacation. Vacation therapy for the therapist. You need to go and have fun, let it loose, that's all. Bon voyage.” The phone clicked in my ear.
"Last call...” the voice announced as the gate agent waved me to hurry.
Molly's words hadn't put my mind at ease. I had to decide and quick. I didn't think I should go on this trip, but my feet led me forward.
I stepped up to the gate attendant and opened my mouth to speak. “I think... Is this...?"
She gave me a shy grin. “We don't want you to miss your flight.” She reached into my carry-on and took the boarding pass from the pocket. She scanned it, returned it, and waved me through.
As I walked onto the plane, I looked right and left. All I could see were men, in all shapes and sizes. I connected the dots in my head. Molly's gay friend Sergio had recommended this club to her. Everyone on the plane seemed to be male and from the profusion of tans and colognes, I had a feeling they were all members of the same club Sergio belonged to.
It looked like I was headed for a gay old time.
The flight attendants readied the cabin for take-off as I hurried to find my aisle seat. The overhead storage was full, so I crammed my luggage underneath the seat in front, avoiding eye contact with the person sitting next to me. I detected movement from my peripheral vision.
