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He shrugged one shoulder and suddenly seemed very vulnerable. “I’m a finalist in one of the short story awards.”
“Congratulations. I’ve never met a writer before.” Although I did meet a poet two weeks ago, I guess that counted. I studied Jay’s driver’s license. . . he was nearly twenty-one years old. Was that too young for me? Not if we’re both consenting adults, I decided.
He huffed and cast his eyes downward. “Thanks.”
Jay wore no wedding band, and he’d checked in alone. This made Jay Ward a potential contender for my next horny adventure. His timing was perfect.
After he’d completed the necessary forms, I handed him the security card for room five, and as I watched him swagger toward the elevator, I wondered if the cocky front Jay put on was exactly that. A front. There seemed to be a confused man beneath that façade.
The rest of the night was very busy. Friday nights usually were. People came and went right up until about three o’clock in the morning. The last couple of hours were filled with roster preparation and other paperwork.
When everything else was done, I took a moment to Google Jay Ward. He turned up on Facebook, and I learned that he went to the University of Melbourne and worked part-time at Campos Coffee Cup.
His photos were what I imagined from a typical young Aussie man, mostly of him smiling with friends and family, drinking, eating, and partying. No particular girl dominated the images.
There were also a few shots of him with a cute little white-and-caramel-colored Beagle.
Perfect.
It was 6:45 a.m. when Needledick arrived fifteen minutes late to take over my shift, but I didn’t have the energy to rip into him. I should’ve walked off my shift at 6:40 like I’d threatened I’d do if he continued his tardiness, but he probably wouldn’t care anyway.
I went to my room, and as I pulled the blinds open, yelling drifted up to me from outside. I opened the glass sliding doors and stepped onto my balcony. The sunshine blasted my skin as much as the screaming women blasted my ears.
Two women on the concrete walking path that ran parallel to the beach stood barely three feet apart and yelled at each other so loudly I heard them from four floors up. A young man with broad shoulders, tight jeans, and a bright pink shirt stood nearby but failed to intervene.
By the grin on his face, he was enjoying the show. Asshole!
I couldn’t decipher enough to understand what they were arguing about, but based on the heated glances each of them threw at the man, my guess was it was him.
Fucking asshole!
People gave them a wide berth as they walked past and the two women carried on, oblivious to the world around them. They were both glammed up, most likely still in their clothes from the night before. Their high heels were completely out of place with the beach setting around them. From my view, they both looked beautiful, although a little bit untidy after an obvious big night, their fight however, was ugly to watch.
My thoughts plummeted to Chelsea-Lea, my ex-best friend who was engaged to my cheating bastard ex-fiancé. I wondered how I’d react should I ever see that bitch again.
My gut lurched. Oh fuck! Today is Saturday the 12th of March.
Their fucking wedding day.
My shoulders slumped as my fingers strangled the balcony railing.
“Shit.” I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt. Today will be a crappy day.
I was tempted to grab a packet of corn chips and a bottle of wine and sit out here in the sun and listen to the women below until I’d drunk every last drop.
But that would be wrong on so many counts.
It was only seven o’clock in the morning, for starters.
Also, that meant my cheating-bastard ex-fiancé and my bitch-face ex-best friend still had a dangerous hold over me.
I released the railing and squeezed my fists until my nails dug into my palms.
I will not let them win.
And the young Jay Ward will make sure of that. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I stepped back into my room, shut the glass doors to block out the screaming match, and went into the bathroom to shower. Afterward, I applied my makeup with meticulous care.
