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“Fuck, dude. I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Is it broken?”
He shakes his head. “No, but they had to adjust it back into its place. Fuck, I almost passed out, it hurt like a bitch.”
I feel really sorry for Jamie. “Did you lose your job?” That would be fucking typical. We’re nothing but cannon fodder to these rich people. It doesn’t matter who fills the position as long as someone is there to serve them.
“No.” He sighs. “Thankfully Mr. Manning had just sat down to lunch, and he saw everything. At the hospital they told me to wear the sling and avoid overexerting myself for three to four weeks. I just saw Mr. Manning. He said he’s going to pay me, and I can stay here until I’m ready to go back to work. He said I can help at reception, anything that allows me to sit down. Thank fuck, because I hope to graduate this year, and until school starts again, I don’t know where to go. I sold my family home after the accident. Too many memories.”
Brady doesn’t sound as satisfied as his cousin. “That’s fucking bullshit, dude! Manning knows full well that you’re going to be missing out on a ton of tips by occasionally covering reception! That’s piss-poor treatment if you ask me. After all, it was his fucking brat of a daughter who caused the accident!”
Brady is right, but Jamie is calmer and way less into confrontation than my best friend. “Yeah, but I’d rather lose my tips than totally lose my job. You know how these rich people are, right? What if he doesn’t accept responsibility and ends up firing me?”
Brady doesn’t budge. “That’s fucking ridiculous. There must be witnesses, right?”
Jamie dismisses his objection with a shrug of his uninjured shoulder. “Right. Staff that could stand to lose their jobs, too, if they go against the boss and the assholes who were laughing at me rather than helping me when I crashed onto the floor. It was a corner table, and they were the only ones in direct view. I’m lucky Mr. Manning saw how it happened and I didn’t get fired for not cleaning up after a guest. Look, let’s cut my losses and not make this worse.”
Brady
The mood between the four of us is so bleak that we don’t even try to finish the beer in the cooler.
None of us takes advantage of the last hour of light to go into the water. We just sit there, staring ahead of us, knowing that we’re really and truly screwed.
We still don’t have the money, and now we’re down a team member too.
I suppose I should feel better because now we won’t miss out on the race just because of my dumb ass, but it’s really a hollow victory if I ever saw one.
I know there’s going to be a party in one of the staff cottages, like every night, but right now none of us feels very sociable or in a partying mood.
I don’t know what the other ones are thinking, but seriously, I’m just wallowing in my own party. A fucking pity party for one.
I’m so busy beating myself up about how, regardless of missing a team member, this is still mostly my fault, that I don’t see her until she’s standing right next to me.
I look at the shadow of her, projected on the sand by the light of our firepit, and let my eyes take her in in small increments.
The soft pink polish on her toes, clad in low-heeled, silver sandals, her thin but shapely calves and legs that are starting to acquire a light golden hue from the time she’s been spending on the beach, her hips, highlighted by the cutoff denim shorts she’s wearing, and the soft swell of her tits encased in a thin pink tank top.
Finally, my eyes skim over the delicate column of her neck and settle on her light blue ones.
Her long blonde hair looks like a halo, surrounding the perfect oval of her face. She’s so fucking gorgeous in a totally natural, non-pretentious way.
“Hi, Brady,” she utters softly.
For a second I panic. I vaguely recall saying something to her last night when she crashed one of our parties, following Jamie around like a cute, lost puppy.
I know I was drunk, and I find myself hoping that I didn’t say or do anything stupid. Like I said, I seem to be a pro at fucking everything up these days.
But Greer doesn’t look upset, she’s actually smiling, so I relax just a smidge, concluding that maybe for once in my life I managed to keep my mouth shut. It would be a first, but stranger things have fucking happened. Right?
Wrong.
Of course I should have known that I’m this island’s biggest dumbass, even counting the obnoxious rich tourists.
She hands me a really thick, white envelope with the most adorable smile on her face.
I take it from her, careful not to brush my fingers against hers. I can’t help it, but when I look at her, my body wakes up, making all the blood migrate down south, so the last thing I want is to touch her and get a hard-on in front of the others. Especially after what we discussed yesterday, when we decided to stay away from her.
Greer Manning has trouble written all over her, and we have enough trouble as it is to last us for five lifetimes.
“What is it?” I ask her, not making any movement to open it.
