AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Aurelia
The ‘staff party’is anything but dull. I can hear raucous laughter, loud music and the clinking of bottles as we approach the security gate in the northeast wall. I remember seeing the wall when I first arrived on Starling Key. It looked prison-like and as though nothing of any interest at all resided on the other side. The noise I hear now blows that perception out the water.
“Ok, I apologize now if you get mobbed,” Isaac says as he presses a number into the keypad.
“Hey!” I admonish, playfully slapping him on the arm. “You’re supposed to protect me.”
“Oh no. I warned you Aurelia. You enter these walls at your own risk. You knew that.”
“Ok, fine,” I grin, practically pushing him through the opening. I can’t wait. At first, I can’t see anything but dark walls and windows. A few are lit up from the inside. “Are those the dorms?”
“Yeah,” Isaac says, leading me between buildings. “Some of the staff live off the Key, like Carter and Seleste for example, and Arnaud, our head chef. But most people live here. It’s easier, especially if you don’t have family.”
The music fades out and a whoop sounds as a Jimi Hendrix song starts up, louder than the last. “Oh my God, I love this song,” I gasp.
“It’s a little antique for you, isn’t it?” Isaac says.
I spin around, my hands on my hips, defiant. “Maybe I like antiques.”
He looks momentarily stunned. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I shrug, maintaining eye contact, willing him to read through the lines. “The classics are the best. So, is there a dance floor or what?”
Isaac looks relieved then scrunches his face up in thought. “Um, of sorts.”
We finally round a corner and all I can see before us is a mass of scantily clad bodies bouncing up and down in time with the music. There are guys in board shorts and combats, not many wearing shirts, and there are girls wearing flimsy dresses, tiny shorts and bikini tops. Sweat glistens on all of them as they move, carefree and unchoreographed, to the heavy guitar. I am engulfed with the need to join them. Without thinking, I push past Isaac and straight into the crowd. I recognize Tawny and Esme, and make a beeline for them. They cheer as I arrive, and throw their arms around me, before losing themselves again in the music. I close my eyes and move my hips, swinging my freshly-washed, still-damp hair from side-to-side. No one is bombarding me, no one is fighting to get a selfie, no one is scrutinizing my movements. I’m being totally left alone to move to the music, free and uninhibited.
When I finally open my eyes, Tawny has paused and someone is shouting in her ear. When the person straightens, I see it’s Isaac. He stands and fixes his eyes on me. There’s something burning behind them. It’s intense and I don’t know whether to like it or be afraid of it. I keep moving, running my hands up through my hair, then flicking it to the side while swinging my hips to the bass. He watches me, unwavering. I notice his Adam’s apple bob up and down. I decide I like it. I like having him watch me, and I suddenly wish there was no one else here, that I were dancing only for him. I hold his eyes as I move my ass to the music, until he suddenly breaks the contact and turns away. When I turn back to Tawny, she has her eyes diverted. When she looks up, she gives me a timid smile and arches an eyebrow.
I dance out the Hendrix song then follow Tawny through the crowd. A few people do a double take but don’t attempt to stop me. We emerge out of the dancing mass and I take a deep breath. The air is thick with alcohol, sweat and, thankfully, incense. A string of fairy lights hangs on a far wall and we make our way towards it. As we approach, a makeshift table comes into view and two guys stand behind it, fixing drinks for a small crowd gathered around.
“That’s Ché and Camiro,” Esme explains. “They work some of the bars here, and on Sundays they work this one. Unofficially,” she winks.
“Do you drink?” Tawny asks.
“Um, maybe, a little,” I say, hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll ask him to make you a weak one,” she smiles.
“A weak what?” I look up at Esme.
“Mojito. Ché makes the best. You’ll love it.”
“How long does this go on for?” I ask her, gesturing around us.
“It varies. Sometimes to one a.m., other nights longer. If we have a full day on the Monday, it doesn’t go on too long because staff need to sleep here too.” She glances up at the windows, and I follow her gaze to one in particular that seems to hang right over the courtyard we’re standing in.
“I don’t envy whoever lives in that one.”
“Ha! No one lives there anymore,” Esme explains. “Only people who’ve pissed off the boss.” She nudges Tawny.
“Don’t remind me,” Tawny says, shaking her head. “He’s still paying for it.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“It’s a long story,” Esme starts. “But briefly, when Tawny arrived here to start a new job she crashed her car into the wall around the resort. Connor was not happy, and decided to punish her by making her stay in there—8A.”
