“Who cares?” Gray says, barely contained excitement in his voice.
“You guys sure you’re ready for that? The last one was just a month ago. Have you had time to make all the changes you wanted to?” I ask.
“Most of them, but I’m not worried about it.”
“Well, if you’re not worried, I’m not worried. Call me Saturday?”
“Will do. Enjoy paradise, you slacker.”
I try to keep my distance when I can from his app and stay squarely in the financial investor category. If mixing business and friendships is risky, mixing business and family is downright dangerous. Sometimes I get a little overbearing, but Gray tolerates me.
My room is clean when I return, one of the perks of staying here, but as I approach my wardrobe, I knock my knee against the corner of the bed. Doubling over, I clutch at the joint. Pain reverberates from my knee up to my thigh.
“FUCK.”
I grind my teeth together, squeezing my eyes shut so hard that I see stars. That was my bad knee. Which generally feels fine, unless the weather is bad, or I’ve pushed myself too far—or, of course, I bang it against the sharp corner of a bed.
I let gravity take me down to the ground, where I have to breathe through the pain. It takes longer than I want it to, but eventually I’m able to haul myself to standing using just my good leg. I put my foot down carefully, steeling myself with a few quick breaths.
“Come on, Barker, just fucking do it.”
I put the full weight of my body on the foot, taking one step. The pain is sharp, but familiar. It will pass if I walk it off. So I pace the room, one hobbling step at a time, until the pain subsides to a dull throb and I’m barely limping.
If I wasn’t going to get a beer before, I definitely am now.
It’s a quick walk to the main pool, but it takes me longer than normal with my slight limp. I walk right in, letting the cold water soothe my knee. I swim up to the poolside bar and claim one of the stools.
“Knocked off early today, huh?” my favorite bartender, Carlos, asks and hands me a Corona with lime without my having asked for it.
“Yeah, I had a lunch with the boss, so I said fuck it. Slow week anyway.”
“They changed stuff again?”
“Yep.”
I take a pull on the beer. Carlos has heard all the stories over the last two months; he knows I was supposed to go home two weeks ago, and that I’ll probably stay longer than my most recently promised end date, too.
Lately, I’ve been dreaming of even more freedom than client work. When I have clients, I’m at the whims and mercies and decisions of others. While the money is good and it’s not as riskyas something like flipping houses, I have less and less patience for…well, people.
“You’ll be stuck with me a little longer,” I say.
“You know you’re my favorite resort resident, Mr. Barker.”
“I’m the only resident as far as I know. And you’ve got to stop calling me that. Mr. Barker is my dad, and, lucky for you, you never met him.”
I don’t have a nice word to say about my father. After I graduated from high school, my dad announced that he and Mom were getting a divorce. He’d been having an affair for years with a lady who lived down the street. She was married with kids, too, and it wasn’t just a huge mess for everyone; it was humiliating for everyone. Except, apparently, my dad and his new wife. That man has no shame.
I finish the beer too quickly and slide the empty bottle back to Carlos, who already has another one ready to go. The dull ache in my knee is already easing.
I swivel around, observing the same kinds of people that I’ve been seeing for two months. Young couples who can’t keep their hands off each other, gaggles of girls screaming “woo” at every opportunity, older couples who are making the most of their retirement years. Fortunately, it’s a kid-free resort, so although it’s noisy, it’s not “screaming child” noisy.
There aren’t a lot of solo travelers at resorts, or not at this one anyway, which is why the gorgeous brunette in a bright red bikini, huge sunglasses, and a floppy sun hat catches my eye. There’s no ring on the relevant finger, nor do I see a man sitting by her or wandering nearby looking lost. There’s no group of girlfriends or even another towel on the chairs near her. She’s either actually here alone or taking a moment away from…family? Friends? It won’t stop me from saying hello either way. I can’t see her face between her hat and the e-reader she’s buriedin, but I bet if it matches those legs, she’s exactly the kind of cold drink I need to put this day behind me.
“Did someone catch your eye, Mr. Barker?”
“What are the chances the girl in the red bikini is single?”
“She arrived at the pool alone, not more than an hour ago.”
