Vacation Therapy (8 page)
Authors: Lance Zarimba
Logan dropped his things on my chair. His eyes swept over me and went to Tom, who had just awoken from the commotion.
"You're... You're...” Logan said pointing at Tom, and stopped suddenly, “no, my mistake."
"I'm Tom,” he said, smiling as he sat up and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan. I'm a big fan of your series. I have your new book in my room."
"Really?” Logan's weathered face flushed.
"Yeah. I'll have to get it later and have you sign it for me."
"Really?” Logan asked. He rocked back and forth, uncertain what else to say.
"Really,” Tom said.
Logan smiled with pride as he walked off to find a lounger.
Wasn't it funny that Logan had recognized Tom? And Tom had recognized Logan?
Logan had finally found a lounger and was busy writing in his spiral-bound notebook. My curiosity was piqued, but I resisted. My exhaustion, added to the wonderful effects of sun, surf, and heat, washed over my whole body. My eyes grew as heavy as the Ian Rankin book in my hand.
I inserted my bookmark, closed the book, and placed it back into the tote bag. I closed my eyes and settled back. Sleep welcomed me.
Blasts of a horn Gabriel himself must have blown jolted me to an upright position. Calypso music blared out of the cabana and radiated across the beach.
"What the hell?” I asked.
Mike's voice echoed through the speakers, barely drowning out the music's backbeat. “Greetings, everyone! And welcome to Club Fred! I'm Mike, and I want to welcome you all to a week of fun and excitement."
"I can vouch for that,” I mumbled to myself.
"Check out these two guys over here. The guy with the long brown hair is John, and the bald bodybuilder's name is Gary. And we're your Club Fred crew. If you have any problems throughout your stay, we'll be at the Club Fred table, right next to the pool. We'll have the answers to any questions you may have, along with daily schedules of the planned events and entertainment."
The horns blew again, and the song started over.
"Right on cue. This is the song to listen for. It'll signal the start of a new event. So when you hear it, you'll know fun is close behind. Now, everyone should gather around and get the basic information you'll need. Find out how this resort works, and what you can expect in the upcoming week."
"What?” Sergio demanded. “We have to go through orientation to survive here? What do they think we're doing? Going to college?” He rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his beach towel over his head.
"Don't we have to attend this thing?” I asked.
Logan continued writing in his notebook, and Tom appeared to be sleeping through the commotion.
Shrugging my shoulders and not expecting any answers, I swung my legs over the side of my chair and stood up.
Sergio peered out from under his towel. “If you're going to go and play freshman, can you bring me back a cold water?"
"Sure."
"And don't forget your sandals.” He pulled the towel back over his head and settled down into his lounger.
"Yes, Mother,” I said with a wrinkled nose.
"Suit yourself,” Sergio said from under his haven.
Ignoring him, I passed under the umbrella and took two steps onto the sand. The white, hot, burning sand. The shock didn't register at first. I took a few more steps and then it felt like I had stepped into a scalding bathtub. But here, there wasn't any bathmat to escape to, just more hot sand, yards and yards of it. The cabana seemed to pull away from me, and from where I stood, it was too far away to go forward, but I'd be damned if I'd go back and let Sergio know he was right.
Glancing ahead, I jumped onto a vacant towel laid out by a sun worshiper. I leap-frogged across towels to the small pool at the base of the steps that entered the cabana.
A sign read, “Wash your feet before entering Cabana.” Steam came off my feet as I soaked. Just what I needed, a third-degree burn on the soles of my feet.
"Hot one, isn't it?” an elderly man in sandals and a gaudy shirt asked as he ascended the stairs.
I smiled tightly and just nodded. “Hot."
"You should really wear your sandals, or you're going to burn your feet."
I saluted him. “Thanks for the tip, I'll remember that for my return trip.” You had better believe it.
I tested the temperature of the wooden stairs. They were warm to my wet feet, but not hot enough to burn the remaining skin off.
Mike's voice continued to call everyone over. “Don't be shy, you're on vacation. Hopefully, you'll all get to meet each other and have a wonderful time."
I rounded the corner of the building and entered the pool area, just as Mike held up a beach towel. “This is our official Club Fred beach towel. This is a wonderful souvenir to remember your trip.” The towel had a picture of a male model emerging from the surf in a wet T-shirt and a Speedo, tossing his long hair back out of his face in a graceful arc.
I could just see my redneck neighbor's look with
that
beach towel hanging on my clothesline.
"We have T-shirts, sun visors, sunglasses, sunscreen, anything that you may have forgotten at home. You can purchase any of these items here, and for your convenience, all you need to do is tell us your room number, and we'll charge it to your room. This will save you having to carry your wallet and worrying about losing your money or credit card on the beach."
Mike handed the microphone over to John, who flipped his long hair back, just like he did on the towel. “Hi, I'm John, and I'm in charge of
all
the excursions. We have a few trips planned. There is a jungle cruise right here at the resort. All you have to do is take the shuttle to the dock and a boat will take you through a mangrove swamp. You'll be able to see the lush vegetation of the tropical jungle, just like on the Discovery channel, but live.” He held up a pamphlet. “And the best thing about it is, it's free!"
The crowd cheered.
"We also have a whole range of great trips lined up for you for just a small extra charge."
Boos emanated from the crowd.
"The other trips are cheap. Trust me. We have a trip scheduled to the flea market and mall. There is one to a banana plantation, and there will be a sunset cruise also. Very romantic, if that's what you're looking for.” He paused for effect. “And best for last, a snorkeling trip to Seal Island. This is a daylong event, so plan ahead. I heard it has some great places to take underwater photos, so sign up soon. Only a limited amount of people can go on each of these trips. So come and visit me at the Club Fred table and sign up today."
John handed the microphone back to Gary.
"Hi, I'm Gary.” He flexed his muscles. “And I'm in charge of the resort's activities. I'll help you set up volleyball games, horseback riding, wind surfing, boogie boarding. Anything you can think of doing at the resort."
A bunch of catcalls, hootings, and laughter burst from the crowd.
"Aw, come on guys! Get your minds out of the gutter.” He smiled. “Unless you take me along with you."
More hoots and hollering followed, along with some suggestions. I could feel my face beginning to turn red, and not due to the heat.
Gary tried to talk, but the crowd continued its uproar. Realizing that he was unable to regain control, he gave the microphone back to Mike.
"Hey guys, listen up. We're almost done here, and then you can go back to your fun.” He took a deep breath. “Meals are served in blocks of time, make sure you eat then, because the cooks aren't able to make you anything special. Also, in this heat, we can't leave the food out all day."
Boos came again.
"As you may have noticed on the bus ride here, there aren't any restaurants within walking distance. There isn't anything within walking distance. So you'd better eat when you have the chance.” He raised his arms up in apology. “And you need to eat if you plan on drinking. You can dehydrate in this heat if you don't drink enough water and if you drink too much alcohol. Before you ‘boo’ me, you are all adults here, and I'm not your mother, so be responsible, but have fun. You're on vacation!"
Mike glanced at his watch. “I don't want to waste any more of your time, but there are pre- and post-supper shows every night, and a disco and piano bar after the shows. The daily schedule will have all that information. You can read that for yourselves. Go enjoy and have fun. Don't forget to come see one of us if there is a problem, or if you'd like to buy a Club Fred souvenir. Thanks for listening.” Gabriel's horn blasted again as the crowd dispersed, and I headed over to the bar.
Geoff the GO was bartending. “What can I get you for, mon?"
"Two bottled waters."
"You hittin’ the hard stuff too early, mon. Take it easy.” He gave me a toothy grin. “No more bodies on the beach, huh?"
"Oh, there are bodies on the beach, but all alive and well.” Burnt, but alive.
He handed me two Agua Pure bottles and turned to the next customer.
I walked away and stopped in my tracks. I hadn't paid for the drinks.
Mike was walking by and stopped at my puzzled look. “Something wrong?"
"I didn't pay for these drinks,” I said, sheepishly showing him the bottles.
"You did already. They're included in the resort price, so help yourself.” He looked at the two bottles. “Let me know if I can do anything for you, and...” his voice dipped down to a whisper, “can you keep last night under wraps? I don't want to spoil anyone's vacation with a...a drowning so early in the week. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Thanks, bud. See you around and watch out for the sun."
"Thanks,” I said and walked off. My pallor must be a novelty to him.
I retraced my path and as soon as my feet hit the sand, I jumped back into the rinsing pool. In the short time I had been at the meeting and the bar, the beach had gotten even hotter, if that was possible. I looked down the long stretch to my chair. Guys were lying on the towels that I had hop-scotched across earlier. So much for my return trip.
I walked back to the Club Fred table. John with the long hair was manning the booth. His tan body glistened with oil as he lay back, stretching out in his chair soaking up the sun. “Can I help you?"
"I would like a...” I looked at the piles of towels and T-shirts. “Do you have any sandals?"
"Nope."
"Do you have...a plain beach towel?"
John picked up the Club Fred towel and unrolled it. “Don't you like the design?"
"I'd really like just a plain one.” I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
"Sorry, but it's all we have. But I can sign this one for you if you want."
"What?” I said, almost taking a step back from him.
He held the towel up next to his face. “That's me."
There he was, bigger than life. How could I refuse? “Sure, sign one for me."
"Cool. My first sale of the day. Whom should I make it out to?"
"Tay...” I stopped. “Make it out to Sergio."
He grabbed a Sharpie marker and wrote something and then signed his name to the towel. “So what's your room number?” he asked.
"What?” Was he hitting on me?
He gave me a surprised looked and said, “I need your room number so I can charge it to the right one."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm in room 417."
"Thanks, Sergio. See you around."
"Yeah, right."
I hurried around the cabana and looked back at John. He had watched me leave and waved. I waved back and peered at the ocean. A few minutes passed, and a guy approached the Club Fred table. As soon as he stepped in front of John, blocking his view of me, I threw the towel down on the beach and stepped onto John's face. As fast as I could with the bottled water tucked under my arms, I hopped across the hot sand, back to my chair, moving the towel with me.
Sergio peered up. “Told you the beach was hot."
I sat down quickly, fanning my feet. I threw him a bottle of water, and then I threw him the towel.
Sergio unfolded it and looked at me. “What's this?"
"A souvenir."
"Okay, but I'd like to know one thing."
"And what's that?"
"Are you going to meet John tonight, or am I?"
"What?"
Sergio held up the towel, so I could see what John had written.
"He's all yours,” I said quickly, picking up my book. I began to read, trying to ignore Sergio's laughter.
Even with 30 SPF sun block, I could feel the sun cooking me. Using Sergio's sunglasses as a mirror, I saw that my face glowed pink. I should've tanned before I went on vacation. Like I'd had time to do that. If there had been time to work on my base tan, then I would've planned my own trip, and I wouldn't be here at Club Fred.
Logan continued working in his notebook, Sergio had run off to do a few haircuts, and Tom was still sleeping, but my stomach wasn't. It growled, letting me know breakfast was long gone. Since no one seemed interested in lunch, and I needed to get some shade, I went in search of food, but this time with my sandals on.
Lunch was being served poolside at the cabana. The walls around the pool were doors made from full length Venetian blinds, like along the streets of New Orleans. I walked past the bar and buffet tables and veered toward the pool.
My heart raced for a few seconds as I neared the Club Fred table. I was ready to bolt back to the beach at the first sight of John, but luckily he was nowhere to be seen. The other guy, the bodybuilder, manned the table. “Gary” was written in big block letters on a peel-and-stick nametag glued to his bare chest.
Muscles bulged in all directions. It looked like he had been sucking on an air hose, instead of the bottle of water in his hand. My gaze trailed from the nametag across his chest and down his abdomen. So that's what a washboard stomach looked like. I could see his six-pack. No, there were eight.
"Did you see something you wanted?"
"What? No. I don't...” I startled and blushed when I saw his expression.
"Hot.” Gary raised his arm over his head and poured the water over his head. It trickled down his tan torso and he shook his head, spraying water everywhere.
