Page 14 of The Virgin Playboy

Thinking back to my newscaster days, I can’t believe I went so long not wearing black lipstick or pushing my septum piercing up, so it’d never be visible during that part of my life. If I hadn’t gotten a job in broadcasting so early in my career, I would’ve had a dozen or more tattoos by now. I’d signed an airtight contract, that had I had had any prior to being on air, they would’ve reluctantly dealt with, but never being allowed to get new ones, made me so late to the game.

With our luck, we’d made it in time to snag one of the last afternoon ferries, a feat that had taken my effort, not taking that last-minute stop at a Starbucks. It took a while to drive on board, as the transition was a little bumpy given the sound and feel of metal underneath your tires from driving up the ramp.

The passenger area was pretty practical, and because I wasn’t sure whether food would be waiting for us by the time we arrived, I opted to wait thirty minutes in line for a small serving of clam chowder, so I wasn’t starving by the time we arrived. It was a two-hour ride, but hardly felt like it when you were forced to bond with air and sea, making the upper deck the best view of dark blue water, as the boat left foaming white wake in its effort to clear its pathway.

I almost envied the pedestrians who got to walk off and really feel what it was like to walk off dock, as opposed to driving off and losing some of the wonder and galore by being on foot.

Since it wasn’t new for me, I kept my driving speed at the minimum, so Carly could take in the initial sights. If New England had a theme, or embodied an image most people thought it might look, Martha’s Vineyard definitely lived up to that image.

Even I couldn’t help feeling a sense of nostalgia driving past all the cute little ice cream shops, all the locals opting to ride their bikes instead of drive, and while I wasn’t a religious person, I was a fan of architecture, so I appreciated the white church steeples rising above the rooftops.

I was almost kind of curious to what we were working with once we put the address of Yenory and Avi’s shared in Edgartown. I indulged Carly by driving through the town I knew she’d want to take pictures in, Oak Bluffs, a Down-Island town known for its adorable Victorian gingerbread houses, because there wasn’t a doubt she’d want to share proof of such a sight for her kid. We definitely weren’t getting to their place at a reasonable hour, because I’d actually wanted to capture selfies too.

I wouldn’t have even known how late we were pushing it, had Yenory not sent a “Are y’all alive?” text, prompting us to cut our joyriding short and make our way to their resort-like property. Avi was a retired baseball player, and once the highest paid shortstop, so I didn’t expect anything less of their private, coastal estate.

“Girl, I’m glad this house is built with actual brick and stone. I didn’t know about some of those houses where you can see through all the damn rooms,” Carly noted, as we pulled into the driveway where two cars were already parked.

The most notable was the Ford Ranger, the one I didn’t recognize, so I assumed one or more of their guests were already here. Then Yenory’s modest little Toyota Camry was crammed in the corner, so my guess was Avi wasn’t here, or he was out on an errand, because his SUV was nowhere to be found.

“I think we better head inside before all the best rooms get taken,” I suggested before even unpacking our suitcases from the trunk. Replying to Yenory’s text with a simple “We’re here”, she mentioned she’d be in the back, because her guests had already taken claim to the pool out back. That left us ample time to be nosy and look around before we engaged with anyone.

“Oh, this is nice!” Carly exclaimed, making our way from the grand foyer to first few rooms. It very much gave elegant rather than cozy as opposed to the outside, but from the main room to the dining room, nothing about this place was short of specular.

The chef’s kitchen was empty, but it had appeared as though some light food had already been prepared for whoever came before us, as nearly a dozen different types of sushi were laid out. They’d probably already had their fair share, but what was leftover was barely picked at, so Carly and I helped ourselves.

“You can have those raw ones, because I like my shit, cooked,” Carly felt the need to announce, opting for the deep-fried options over the traditional rolls.

“Now that we’re here, I wonder if Avi’s friends are people of color, or white people.”

“Damn, we should’ve asked, right? Because what if it’s some coworker named Bob and some shit,” as we both giggled at the Martin reference. “I might have to be lit if I’m gonna be around a bunch of Drakes.”

Hopping up, she must’ve been reading my mind, because a liquor cabinet was exactly where I was headed. Wine, Irish Whiskey, beer, rum, this oasis had a little bit of everything, even some nips Carly and me had no shame in pocketing, as we took a short toast and both downed a shot of tequila.

“Apparently, Yenory and her guests are in the back,” I teased in a sing-song voice, as Carly decided to rip the band aid off and introduce herself. Taking a short detour to the bathroom, I thought best to reapply any makeup that could use a touch up, not that I was trying to impress anyone, but if my lipstick or rimmed eyes were fading, I did want strangers to get a better picture of me.

You could already hear Carly’s robustness meshing well with the guests outside, that it almost made me regret not joining her. Now I had the burden of going up against her gregarious personality.

“Oh, y’all is a mess,” Carly last words, as she walked back in the house, as if in that two-minute exchange, a time had been had. Rushing out the bathroom, I asked for a replay.

“So…what was the verdict?”

“Girl, I don’t even know how to describe them, because I was not expecting that. Maybe this weekend won’t be corny after all, I was really up here thinking we’d be housemates with a Donald and Goofy, but they’re actually alright. A little young. And foreign, I was definitely not expecting men that foreign,” she ended, walking toward the kitchen to grab some bottled water.

As here went nothing, compelling myself to exit the estate into the backyard, the heart of the property where the pool was. There I found Yenory in a swimsuit, splashing water at one of her guests, as all eyes seemed to be on me, so I shot an uncomfortable wave. “Oh Kaihautū, that’s my other friend, Jaq.”

“Hey,” a handsome man, with a familiar smile waved back, and for some reason, I can’t help thinking he reminded me of someone. He sported a Tā moko on his bicep, so I knew he wasn’t latine, like I initially assumed. “You’ll meet my cousin when he comes up for air. Can’t say we couldn’t resist the water, considering there’s no good beaches in comparison to back home.”

And while I’d thought that accent at first was a drawl, it sounded so familiar to an accent I had been exposed to recently, I instantly pegged it for Australian. I’d recently met a man from New Zealand, so I felt some residual embarrassment that I’d ever confused the two.

“Oh, I look forward to meeting him,” I brought my hands in a clap, instantly about to eat those words. Like a scene in a cheesy 80’s movie, it was like a god was emerging from the water, in slow motion, a brown, sculpted to perfection, specimen of a man, sporting a slutty Tā moko, not just on his bicep, but his thigh as well.

And then the recognition came. I was fighting back whether to scream or faint, as swoony brown eyes locked with mine. It was Graham. My last hookup. Looking just as fine as he wanted to be. Not for nothing, the sun was really doing him good, because it was like he was just getting browner.

Just when I thought this weekend was going to be relaxing, the universe reminded me it had jokes.

CHAPTER TEN

Graham