Vacation Therapy (31 page)

"Like that should surprise you here?” Sergio said. A faint smile played across his lips, and he cast his eyes down, avoiding mine, and suggested, “What about...the Village People? Would you be willing to do them?"

It was scary how our minds worked on the same wavelength, but I had to smile to myself. It was the same one I had thought of, and there was no way the two of us could play six men. No way. Whew. I was safe.

"They could have been fun to do,” I agreed, trying to play along with him, “but I doubt two of us could play six roles.” I tried to look disappointed.

Sergio scratched his chin, thinking. “I know,” he nodded in slow agreement.

"Too bad, it could've been fun.” There. I tried. I played along. He should be happy that I even considered it. I smiled ruefully. “Too bad we don't know four other guys..."

Crap
.

As soon as those words exited my mouth, a strange feeling overtook me. I swallowed hard. I had been played.

"Yeah, too bad,” he pursed his lips and pouted. After a long pause, he started again. “So, if I found four other guys..."

No.

My mind counted. How many guys did we know here at the resort? Logan and Tom. But they would never be willing to do such a dumb thing as this. Or could Sergio convince them?

No way.

But why was I getting worried? Besides, they were only two, we were still two short.

Weren't we?

"I figured that you wouldn't want to dress up as a woman,” Sergio admitted, “and I doubted that you'd dress up in any wild costumes. You seem to be more the Levi and white T-shirt kind of guy. Right?"

I nodded. “Yes."

"Maybe the construction worker kind of guy?"

I had been played like a fiddle.

Swallowing hard, I smiled. “You're just kidding, right?"

Sergio's eyes told me “No.” He smiled. “Tom and Logan said that they'd like to help."

"When did you ask them?"

"Last night when you went to the restroom. I told them to keep it a secret until I could talk to you about it."

"But we're still missing two.” I tried, but I knew what was coming next.

"I bet Skinny and Chubby David would love to help us."

Damn! I'd been had!

"You tricked me.” I pointed my index finger at him, as the laughter that he had been suppressing finally burst forth. “I won't do it.” I re-folded my arms across my chest, and I refused to look at him.

"Oh, come on, be a good sport. It'll only take five minutes."

"To make a fool out of myself. No. I won't do it."

"The other guys are excited. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

"Yes."

"You don't mean that."

Silence stood between us.

Sergio finally said, “This will give you and me the chance to get the whole crew together and see if we can figure out who has been doing all of these things at the resort. We'll have access behind the scenes of this resort to spy on all the suspects and see if we stumble across any more clues."

I remained silent.

"We could interview people, and they'll never know it isn't for the talent show. We'll be able to keep track of everyone and see if someone slips up."

I wasn't going to respond to the carrot he was dangling in front of me.

"Don't you want to figure out who killed John and Gary? Don't you think we owe them that much?” He took a deep breath. “Geoff and Mike haven't done jack to solve these crimes."

I could see why he was such a good friend of Molly's. They thought exactly alike.

"I'll even let you pick the song,” he offered. “The shortest one they have."

"No,” I said.

"You can be the construction worker. He wears mirrored sunglasses that will cover your face, and a hard hat to cover your head. No one will even recognize you, not as if anyone here knows who you are anyway, right?"

Why was I going to regret agreeing with Sergio? I didn't stand a chance to win this argument. He had everything planned. I wasn't a dancer. I didn't know the words to any of their songs. I couldn't do this. I didn't want to do this.

But five other guys were counting on me.

Counting on me to make a complete fool of myself.

At least it was in front of a group of strangers.

Gay strangers.

Ones that I'd never see again.

What had gone right on this vacation so far? Nothing. So, why should this?

The more I fought against things, the worse they got.

Go with the flow, my mind soothed.

It's not like I could stop Sergio.

I doubted anyone could. He was a force of nature.

"I'm agreeing to do this only to keep an eye on everyone behind the scenes, to see if we can find out who's been stalking us, to find out who is killing everyone, and if we figure it out before showtime..."

"We won't have to go on stage,” Sergio agreed.

Why didn't I believe him?

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Sergio took charge of organizing our entire act, and the five of us followed his directions, every last one of them. Anytime someone offered a suggestion, they were quickly put in their place, and the dictator, I mean Sergio, took full control, total control.

"Can't we do this one?” I pointed to the back of the CD case. “It's only three minutes and thirty-six seconds."

Sergio snatched the case from my hand and looked at it. “No one knows
Can't Stop the Music
. They may have used it for the title of their movie, but it wasn't one of their hits."

Flipping the plastic case around in my hand, I motioned to the title. “It's on their ‘Best of’ album. I think that..."

"Don't think. Trust me on this one,” he said, “it won't work."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I could see it now, we were going to end up doing the extended Thunderpuss re-mix version of their longest song. I just knew it.

"I know it's stereotypical, but ‘
YMCA
’ is their classic song.” Sergio looked up to see my reaction. “It's been overdone and is used in just about every known sporting event in the world, but the true essence, the true beauty of that song can only come to light,” he spread his arms wide, “here."

"At Club Fred?” I asked.

Reading his expression, I knew I had to drop it.

Two hours later, the rain hadn't let up and neither had Sergio. That song played over and over again as he yelled out stage directions.

I'm sure a full-scale Broadway musical didn't have this much stage direction.

Our two rows of average looking men appeared more like the cast from
The Full Monty
than a disco group. At least the Village People didn't employ the wild dance steps that the boy bands used. Thank goodness.

I decided it was time to confront Sergio. Pulling him aside, I said, “I agreed to this charade, so we could keep an eye on everyone, and all I see is you working us to death over this act. When are we going to find something out? When are we going to start asking questions? When..."

"It's... It's...our cover."

"Well. What have we found out so far? Nothing."

"That's not true."

"I think you're using this just so you could enter the talent show. I doubt..."

"No,” he said, with his hands on his narrow hips.

"We need to be focusing on who's stalking us, not whether the dance steps are in time with the music."

A tongue clicking sounded behind me.

"Tut, tut, tut. A lover's quarrel?” Cha-Cha purred.

"We're not...” I began, but Cha-Cha pushed past me and headed straight for Sergio.

A long, sculpted nail extended from her index finger and poked into his chest. “Just remember who's the real diva around here, sweetheart.” Each word was punctuated with her nail.

Sergio grabbed her wrist. “When I see one, I'll make way, but until then, we'll just deal with...” he blinked his eyes, “...the falsies. Oops, I mean the false ones.” He looked down at her bosom. “Not everyone can wear Nerf, but you pull it off. Lime green or orange?” He turned to me.

Cha-Cha glared into Sergio's eyes. “I'll be the winner of the talent show. You just wait and see. Don't waste any more of your time practicing. I'm a shoo-in. Count on that.” They held each other's stare; neither one blinked.

A fruity scent played in the air, and a tickle started in my nose. My tongue rolled across the roof of my mouth, trying to prevent a sneeze from forming, but I was too late. It exploded from me, and was quickly followed by another.

Cha-Cha's eyes darted toward me from the sudden noise.

I felt daggers from her gaze as it bore into me. “Excuse me."

Cha-Cha stamped her foot and turned on her high heels. “You haven't seen the last of me.” She stormed past me. A wave of watermelon assaulted my nostrils, and I sneezed again, but as I wiped my nose, I wondered—why did that scent mean something to me?

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"That woman is psychotic,” Sergio said.

"Did I miss something? What did you do to piss her off?” I asked.

Before he could respond, Mike's raised voice cut through the backstage curtain. “I could kill you..."

Sergio and I raced over to the curtain. I pressed my ear against the crushed red velvet. The damp fabric stuck to my skin. “Gross,” I said, and pulled my head away.

Sergio slapped me. “Shhh."

"What did I do?” an unfamiliar man's voice asked.

Sergio mouthed, “Who's that?"

I shrugged my shoulders and struggled to hear more.

"Haven't you done enough?” Mike huffed. “You're the one who recommended this resort, and this place is falling apart around us."

"It's Mexico. What did you expect? A five-star hotel?"

"There are many five-star places in Mexico."

"This isn't one of them. At the price you're paying for this place for a week, you should be thanking me for all the money you're making."

Mike scoffed. “With this weather? Everyone's wishing they never came, and all they want to do is go home, myself included. I'm sure the next thing will be the guests demanding their money back."

"So?” the man asked.

"Do you think I can afford to refund any of that money? I'd be ruined. Club Fred's barely breaking even. I may have to file for Chapter 11."

"I doubt that anyone is going to ask for their money back. It's not
your
fault that the hurricane hit. It's that time of the year. The guests knew that this could happen. Right?"

"I guess so,” Mike said.

"What do you mean, you guess so? Don't you have a rain or shine clause in the contract that you have each guest sign?"

"Well, yes, but...” Mike said.

"But nothing. As long as they've signed it, they can't sue you or expect to get any of their money back. You're covered."

Mike didn't respond.

The man continued, “You've provided them with three squares a day, a roof over their heads, and entertainment."

"If you can call this entertainment,” Mike said.

"If you feel so badly for your guests, then offer them a discount for booking their next Club Fred vacation before they go home. That way, you ensure their return, and it makes you look like you care about them."

Anger burned in Mike's voice. “I do care."

"Whatever. All week you've been complaining about a few of your guests that were causing problems. Have you gotten rid of them yet?"

Sergio and I looked at each other in shock. I swallowed hard. Was he referring to us?

Sergio's eyes widened, and he cupped his hand around his ear. He shifted his weight to the other foot, and the wooden stage floor squeaked in protest.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out Mike's response.

"You're rid of Gary and John, aren't you?” the man asked.

My breath caught in my throat.

"And you don't seem too heartbroken about losing them. Hopefully, you didn't pay them before they got here. At least that's a few extra bucks in your pocket. Maybe you'll end in the black after all."

"That's cold, even for you,” Mike said.

"Like John was such a loss, and you were going to fire Gary when you got back to Los Angeles anyway. After his little stunt, he..."

A finger tapped me on the shoulder, and a stifled shriek escaped from between my lips. Sergio sprang away from the curtain and assumed a defensive kung fu stance.

"How do we look?” Skinny David asked, smiling, clueless that he had interrupted our eavesdropping.

Sergio and I tried to reclaim our dignity when we saw him standing at attention in a white sailor suit. He saluted us and then motioned toward leather clad Chubby David, who looked like he had just stepped off a Harley. Both men looked at us, impatiently waiting for our feedback.

When we didn't respond right away, Skinny David's face fell. “Do I look fat?” he asked, turning from one side to the other, showing us both views. “From the expressions on your faces, I don't think we look right. What did we do wrong? Did we pick the wrong outfits? Are these yours? Did we take Tom and Logan's?"

"No, no, no. You look great,” Sergio said quickly.

"What were you doing? Did we interrupt something?” Skinny David asked loudly. “Is there something going on behind the curtain?"

Sergio waved his hands to shut him up.

Not anymore, I thought, with your big mouth. But instead, “You just caught us by surprise. I thought the ‘real’ Village People were standing there,” I said lamely.

"Really?” Skinny David's face glowed. He clapped his hands together and turned to Chubby David. “Did you hear that? We look just like them.” He glanced down at his clothes and obviously remembered what Chubby David was holding. “Check this out. We brought you a hard hat and mirrored sunglasses."

"Thanks,” I said, accepting them cautiously, expecting them to burn my fingers as soon as I touched them.

"We didn't figure out who you were going to be until we got back,” Skinny David said to Sergio, “otherwise, we'd have brought something back for you, too.” He bowed in apology. “I guess we should've known you'd be the cop, since he was the leader of the group, and you're our leader...” He motioned toward the dressing rooms where they had returned. “I'm sure I saw a policeman's uniform over there.” He scratched his head as he tried to remember.