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“Not as yet.”
Shut up. Please. Just be normal.
The young man seems to have recovered from the conversation and is as polite as when he first met us. I am already feeling guilty that we have been messing with him.
“Is one of you Brooke?”
Sylvia and Edith look at me as I share their surprise.
“Yes, that’s me.” My first thought is that there is an issue with my bill at the hotel. “Is everything all right? I have paid for my stay in advance.”
“Oh no, everything is fine. I was asked to give you this note.”
He hands me a folded cream-colored card. Sylvia and Edith don’t even bother respecting a moment of my privacy. They are at my side, waiting for me to open it. All three of us stare at the card, even making the server curious.
“Thank you,” I say to him. “Who gave you this note?”
“He is tall, and he said you would know. I am sorry I have no more information.”
“Oh no, you have been very helpful. Thank you so much.” I say to him, my voice full of apology for turning him into our source of entertainment.
“And good luck,” adds Edith awkwardly, “with uh…everything.”
He nods politely and thankfully moves on to another table.
The focus is entirely on the cream-colored folded card, which is entirely blank on the outside. “Open it Brooke,” says Edith breathlessly.
“Or we will open it for you,” Adds Sylvia with no hint of shame.
There is no point in arguing for privacy. They are like two self-appointed guardians, one on each shoulder breathing down my neck. In a way, I’m glad they are here.
I open the card, and in fine penmanship, in gleaming blue ink that has just dried, the words are written clearly:
Hi Brooke, I am in the Private Pool Area on the rooftop.
Show them this card, they’ll let you in. I’ll see you soon.
“Is it…?”
“Yes, of course!!” Edith shouts at me, snatching the card and looking at the writing again as if it was from some other world. “You are going to the infinity pool, bitch!”
“It’s definitely him,” smiles Sylvia, somehow taking this as some huge victory for the three of us. “Mr. Handsome wants Miss Beautiful. I love it, Brooke!” *
“I mean, it could be anyone… right…” I say, hoping to God that I am wrong.
“How many tall men do you know here in Hawaii who also know your name?”
“I mean, there is Mr. Wilbur at the front desk. He is tall…” I play around with the delicious truth. I am enjoying this moment of being invited by that hunk. Of course, I won’t go,or so I think.
“Uh, Mr. Wilbur,” says Edith with a mixture of scorn and anger. “Mr. Wilbur is a kind old man who works the morning shift. He is back home with his wife. They are eating porridge. He is not in the infinity pool, Brooke!”
“Flattering as this is, considering how gorgeous he was, I am not going.”
“Oh yes you are,” says Sylvia.
“You have to go!” orders Edith.
“What if he is an axe murderer?”
