Raise Your Game

by Cassia Leo

  After the hatchet throwing exercise, when all the couples have been anointed with war paint, Dr. Mahoe begins to explain the council meeting, which will take place every evening.

  “The purpose of the council meeting is not to vote anyone off the island,” Dr. Mahoe begins with a chuckle. “The purpose of the meeting is to recognize the tribe that has shown the most effort. So you cannot vote for anyone in your tribe, and the council meeting will force you to be present during the retreat. You will have to observe not only your own partner, but the other tribes as well. You may learn more from them than me! So go ahead and take one of your extra pieces of paper and write the name of the tribe that showed the most effort today. Then, fold your paper and put it in this bowl. I will come around to collect your votes.”

  When Mahoe is finished collecting our votes, she holds up each slip of paper to show us what is written as Bobby’s head looks as if it will explode at any moment from having to keep tally. Six pieces of paper result in one vote for Kitty and Jason’s Ka’manu tribe — that was our vote — and five votes for Ka’pipi tribe.

  “The tribe that has overwhelmingly claimed today’s title of Wedded Warriors is Ka’pipi!”

  All the couples turn to us as they clap and cheer. Instinctively, I pick Sophie up and kiss her on the cheek. Sophie’s eyes widen as she automatically tries to push me away. I set her down quickly to prevent anyone from noticing her reaction.

  “Good job, Logan!” a male voice shouts from behind us.

  I whip my head around to see Everett and Lindy in their best Hawaiian tourist outfits, approaching us with enormous grins on their faces. “Everett? What are you doing here?” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I remember that there was one extra slip of paper in the bowl when we chose tribal names.

  Lindy immediately turns her attention to Dr. Mahoe. “Sharon, I’m so sorry we’re late,” she gushes. “I hope we didn’t inconvenience you or any of the other couples.”

  Sharon? Lindy’s on a first-name basis with Dr. Mahoe?

  “Oh, nonsense, Lindy,” Mahoe proclaims as Bobby hands his wife something that looks like a couple of necklaces. “I was just about to award the passion amulets to tonight’s Wedded Warriors.”

  Lindy clasps her hands together and does an excited little hop. “Oh, perfect! Please carry on.”

  Dr. Mahoe approaches us and places a leather necklace around both my and Sophie’s necks. I take a quick glance at the carved wooden amulet dangling from the thin strip of dark leather, and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. The carving appears to depict two turtles sixty-nining each other so their bodies form a yin and yang symbol.

  “Ka’pipi, you will have a sensual treat awaiting you in your suite tonight,” Dr. Mahoe says with a wink. “I will see you all tomorrow at nine a.m. for Tantra yoga. Aloha and good night, everyone.”

  “Already impressing the other couples with your sham marriage, are you, brother?” Everett remarks as we make our way back to the hotel elevator.

  I glance around to make sure none of the other couples heard him, and it seems the coast is clear. “If you’ve come here to sabotage me, you can think again. I have contingency plans in place,” I reply, punching the call button on the elevator and trying to ignore the panicked expression on Sophie’s face.

  “Is that a threat? Do you have some compromising material on standby, ready to be delivered to Father at a moment’s notice?” Everett goads me.

  “Sabotage my operation and you’ll find out,” I reply simply as the elevator doors slide open and we all bump into each other in an attempt to enter at the same time.

  Everett scoffs as I take a step back so he and Lindy can enter first, then I grab Sophie’s hand to keep her from entering.

  Everett laughs as he realizes we’re not getting in with them. “You can’t hide from me forever!” he shouts as the doors slide shut.

  After a tense but silent elevator ride up to our room, Sophie and I enter our suite to find a room service cart. Resting on top is an ice bucket filled with two bottles of champagne and a plate covered in a silver domed lid.

  “Did you know your brother was coming?” Sophie demands, rounding on me with fury in her narrowed eyes.

  “Of course not!” I reply. “He’s just trying to throw me off my game so I screw this up.”

  “Why is he trying to screw this up? Is this some kind of innocent sibling rivalry thing or are you blackmailing him, too?”

  “I’m not blackmailing you,” I shoot back.

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot it’s extortion, or bribery, or whatever. You’re dangling a carrot, promising to make my most pressing problems go away. Do you think I don’t know why you chose me? You probably asked your assistant to find the most desperate person in the office to help you with this stunt. I know how guys like you work.”

  “Guys like me?” I reply, trying to steer the subject away from her very accurate description of how I chose her for this job.

  Sophie’s debt to the company wasn’t the only reason I chose her. Nevertheless, asking my assistant to investigate my new employees — to find someone who would be easy to manipulate — makes me look very bad. My other reasons for choosing Sophie, noble or not, are easily eclipsed by the gross invasion of privacy.

  “Yes, guys like you,” she replies defiantly. “Guys who think everything and everyone has a price.”

  I laugh and shake my head at her assessment of me. “Sweetheart, you have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, really?” she challenges me. “When was the last time someone said no to you?”

  I stare at her for a while as I search my brain for a reply, someone who may have recently turned me down for a business meeting or even a date. Then, I smile as the obvious answer comes to me. “You.”

  “What about me?”

  “Your rules. All four of those rules. It’s just a list of things I can’t do.”

  She stares at me for a while, trying to come up with a response, but she settles on, “I mean, someone other than me.”

  I laugh again. “Can we forget about my brother? I want to find out what the hell is under that lid,” I say, flashing her my most charming smile as I nod toward the room service cart. “I promise we can discuss this once I’ve had a glass of champagne.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Have your brother and his wife been to this resort before? They seemed awfully chummy with Dr. Mahoe.”

  “M’ho’s intimate with everyone,” I reply, and she responds by reaching into the bucket and throwing an ice cube at me.

  “What’s under the lid?” she asks.

  “Maybe it’s Dr. Sharon Mahoe’s guide to sharin’ your hos. You can check. I have to drain the weasel,” I reply as I head toward the bathroom. I take a quick piss and when I emerge from the bathroom, Sophie is standing next to the room service cart holding an enormous pink dildo in her hand. “Well, you certainly decided to break rule number one very quickly.”

  She picks something up off the plate, which looks like another brochure.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “It’s a brochure of Tantric sex poses,” Sophie replies plainly. “This and the champagne and the dildo are our ‘sensual treat.’”

  I grab a bottle of champagne from the bucket as Sophie places the dildo and the brochure back on the plate. “Looks like we’re going to have a wild night,” I remark, just as the cork pops out of the champagne bottle and hits the ceiling.

  Sophie flinches at the sound and casts me a scathing look. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing. It was Kitty, not me, who almost chopped off your Ka’pipi.”

  I begin pouring her a glass of champagne, but when I try to hand it to her she shakes her head. “Suddenly you don’t drink?”

  “I told you, I had enough sauce on the plane,” she replies as she unzips her suitcase and pulls out some clothing and a small zippered travel bag. “It’s past nine. That means it’s…past two a.m. in New York. I’m jetlagged. I just w
ant to go to sleep.”

  “Don’t forget to rinse your dentures before you put them on your nightstand,” I tease her. “This is Hawaii. It’s our first night here. Have a drink with me. I promise no funny stuff.”

  “You’re on your own tonight, boss,” she says as she stops in the doorway of the bathroom.

  I set down my glass of champagne and make my way toward her. “I like it when you call me boss.”

  “Just don’t let anyone from the resort see you out having drinks without me,” she replies.

  “You know, you’re really more trusting than you made yourself out to be down there,” I reply, getting in one last word before she closes the bathroom door behind her.

  “Maybe that’s because we’re not really married,” she says through the door.

  I flinch as if she just opened a bottle of champagne in my face. But I don’t flinch at her words. I flinch at my internal reaction to her words. Why does it hurt to be reminded that I’m not really married to this woman?

  “You might want to keep your voice down,” I reply, leaning closer to the door again. “Don’t forget that everyone here thinks we’re Wedded Warriors.”

  She doesn’t reply, so I head back toward the room service cart to retrieve my glass of champagne. As I reach for it, I notice the gold wedding band on my finger. Sliding it off, I tuck it inside the breast pocket of my green Hawaiian shirt.

  My mind fixates on the ring for a moment, and I realize I don’t really want to go down and have a drink without Sophie. She’s definitely the coolest person at this resort. Maybe even the whole damn island. Besides, I don’t want anyone thinking we didn’t appreciate Dr. Mahoe’s “sensual treat.”

  Sophie emerges from the bathroom as I begin removing the throw pillows from the couch to get ready for the worst sleep I’ve had since my frat days.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “What’s what?” she replies, placing the folded clothes she was wearing earlier in her open suitcase and zipping it up.

  I head toward her to help move the suitcase off the bed. “That thing on your head,” I reply, gently nudging her hand away so I can grab the leather handle.

  “Oh, this? It’s my pineapple,” she replies casually.

  “Your pineapple?” I say, easily lifting the suitcase and placing it on the luggage rack near the closet.

  She seems dumbstruck for a brief moment before she replies, “Yes. If you were blessed with curly hair like me, you’d know what it is. At night, I pineapple my hair and sleep on a satin pillowcase to prevent frizz and breakage. But I forgot my pillowcase.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  She looks confused. “Why would I tell you about my pineapple?

  “Because I need to know about your pineapple,” I reply, trying not to stare at her gorgeous legs, which are barely covered by the oversized Yankees T-shirt she’s wearing as a nightgown. “It wasn’t in your questionnaire, but this is the stuff I need to know to be a convincing husband. What other pineapples are you hiding from me?”

  She rolls her eyes and collapses onto the bed dramatically. “OMG. I’m so hungry right now.”

  I glance around the room. “First you’re tired, now you’re hungry. I’m beginning to understand why we’re having problems in our marriage. Where’s the room service menu? I’ll order you something.”

  She waves off my suggestion. “Don’t bother. Just go have yourself a drink. I’ll eat some snacks from the minibar.”

  Looking at her splayed across the bed is really fucking with my head. Either she knows what she’s doing to me and she’s being diabolically casual about it, or she is truly oblivious to the effect she has on me.

  I swallow hard as I realize I need to get out of this room. “Okay, but you should probably study that brochure. I’ll be giving you a test later.”

  She laughs as she sits up on the bed. “In your dreams, buddy.”

  I make a hasty exit and head down to the beach bar at the neighboring resort, where you can literally step off the beach and into the bar. When I arrive at the Tiki Torch Lounge, I take a seat on one of the rattan stools and order a Kamikaze bourbon. The bartender informs me they do not stock Kamikaze, so I order a Maker’s Mark with a shot of Patrón tequila on the side.

  An older gentleman at the bar, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a white Fedora hat, has a couple of smoking hot ladies in bikinis hanging on his every word as he stares at me. “Try the flaming nipple. They make ’em better here than anywhere else on the island.” He holds out his hand for a shake. “Dusty McDonald.”

  I shake his thickly-calloused hand. “Logan,” I reply, leaving off my last name.

  “You here on vacation, Logan?” he asks as the lovely brunette in a white bikini traces her finger along the side of his face.

  “Something like that,” I reply as the bartender slides my drinks in front of me. “Are you a native?”

  Dusty smiles as the blonde with the pink bikini whispers in his ear. “Who, me? Nah, I moved here from the mainland about four years ago when I retired.”

  “Retired, huh?” I reply, trying to ignore the naughty look the blonde is sending my way as the brunette slides her tongue inside Dusty’s ear. “What did you used to do?”

  I feel like I stepped inside the Playboy mansion. Who the hell is this guy? Hugh Hefner’s protégé?

  “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Dusty replies as the brunette slides her hand down the front of his Hawaiian shirt and appears to start pinching his nipple.

  Is that what he meant by “try the flaming nipple”?

  The bartender shakes his head and walks away to take someone else’s order.

  I don’t ask Dusty what he means by “a little of this, a little of that” for fear that I might not actually want to know.

  “So, what do you do and why the hell do you need a vacation?” he asks. “Or are you here on a vacation from the ol’ ball and chain?”

  “Actually, I’m here on business. I work for my father’s investment firm. I’m here doing some…research.”

  Dusty laughs out loud. “Hawaii is the best place for research,” he says, smacking the blonde on the ass.

  “You’ll pay for that tonight,” she murmurs.

  “Oh, yeah. What are you gonna do to me, baby?”

  The blonde whispers in his ear and a wide smiles spreads across his tanned, leathery face.

  Dusty turns his attention back to me. “I made most of my money on the stock market,” he begins. “Cashed out right before the big crash of ’08 and made a killing. With no wife and kids, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Traveled around for a bit and ended up settling right here in the happiest place on Earth.”

  Having been born into obscene wealth, I have a pretty good bullshit detector when someone claims to be swimming in cash. But despite his obviously inflated sense of self, I admire the guy for committing to this delusion. At least he seems to have gotten a few things right. No wife and kids, just good drinks, hot women, and a perfect white-sand beach.

  I drain my glass of bourbon and throw back the shot of tequila right after. I smack my lips as the heat of the tequila spreads from my mouth outward to my cheeks. The blonde smiles at me as I order a flaming nipple from the bartender.

  She turns away from Dusty, taking a step toward me so she can lean in and whisper, “You’re a big boy. How tall are you?”

  I try not to roll my eyes at this attempt at seduction. “Six-four. And you are?”

  She places the tip of her finger on her full bottom lip. “I’m Serafina and that’s my sister, Melina,” she replies, nodding toward the brunette. “I’ll bet you’re big all over.”

  The bartender sets an oversized shot glass in front of me and uses a lighter to set it on fire. I’m thankful for the distraction from Serafina, as my Spidey-sense is tingling. What kind of person names their daughters Melina and Serafina? These girls probably make their rounds at the resorts, looking for gullible tourists to scam.

 
; I wait for the flames shooting out of my shot glass to die down before I pour it down my throat. “You weren’t lying. That’s a damn good shot.”

  Serafina seems to pick up on my vibes. “I have to pee,” she declares, loudly enough for the elderly couple at the other end of the bar to appear traumatized.

  “Me, too. Let’s go up to the room,” Melina declares, before whispering something in Dusty’s ear.

  Serafina stops next to me and reaches down the front of her bikini bottoms. She comes up with a hotel room card key, which she slowly tucks inside the breast pocket of my Hawaiian shirt.

  “I’m in room 204,” she whispers in my ear before grabbing my crotch. “Ooh, see you later, big boy.”

  As she and Melina walk away, Dusty gets up from his stool, either completely unaware or unashamed that his flag is flying at full-staff. “I’ll go up and meet them later. Right now, I gotta take a piss.”

  I shake my head as I watch him step into the sand and begin walking toward the ocean. As Dusty begins pissing in the crystal-blue water, I spot Kitty standing on beach closer to our resort. She’s looking right at me. How long has she been standing there watching me? Did she see Serafina grab my dick?

  The bartender says something, and I whip my head around.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “Are you ready to settle your tab? Do you want another drink?”

  I shake my head as I hand him my credit card. It feels like he’s taking his sweet time as I wait for him to run my card, so I can hurry up and sign the receipt. I want to get out of here so I can catch up with Kitty and find out what she did or didn’t see. But when I sign the receipt and turn around again, Kitty is gone.

  Fuck!

  Considering where the card was previously stored, I really don’t want to touch it, but I need to get rid of it. As I head back to the Hilton Hotel, I reach into my breast pocket to retrieve the card key and toss it in the nearest waste bin. But something doesn’t feel right.

  I slide my hand back inside my pocket and realize my wedding band is gone. That sneaky little… She used the pretense of slipping the card into my pocket so she could get my ring, which she probably felt against her bare skin when she was leaning in to whisper in my ear.