“Ha,” he said. Of course he liked.
“Well . . . I suppose we’ll see each other again at dinner. My husband’s shot a goose, the brute.”
“Sounds tasty.”
“Oh, he’s very tasty.” She winked. “I presume the goose will be too. Have a nice dip.”
“You too. I mean thanks.” He twiddled his fingers in a wave, immediately feeling like a dork. “See ya.”
“See you at dinner.” She grinned as he passed her door.
Frank let out a breath the second he rounded the corner, just as Linda came out in one of her old bikini tops with a towel wrapped around her waist. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and when she smiled at him, he remembered how good it had once been between them when they’d first started dating, before their respective careers, bills, buying the right furniture, mortgage payments, her cancer, and all of that other joy-sucking stuff had gotten in the way.
He met her at her door. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a tight smile. “I was looking over the contract—”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. So it looks like we’ve also agreed to something called a ‘cleansing.’“
“Like a high colonic?”
“What’s that?”
“Colonic irrigation. An enema.”
Linda shuddered. “I hope not. I’m thinking it’s more likely some kind of hippie dippy thing you won’t like, so I just thought I’d warn you.”
“I appreciate you thinking of me.”
Linda gave him a queer look and headed for the stairs, her sandals clacking on hardwood.
He took up behind her. “I say we just follow the contract to the letter. You know, like work to rule.”
“Definitely. I’ll look over it tonight.”
“I can help.”
“It’s a one-person job,” she said. “You’ll just slow me down.”
“I read contracts in my job too.”
“Not as often as I do.”
“What difference does that make?” Frank lowered his voice as Alex stepped out of the back office and took up sentry behind the desk.
“We’re just going to take a dip in the lake,” Linda said.
The concierge smiled. “Good idea! If you go through this way, you won’t have to walk the stone path in your bare feet,” he suggested, referring to Frank.
They thanked him and headed through the open French doors to the right of the desk and down the hall. The French doors to the dining room were closed, but Frank and Linda peeked inside as they passed, and he noted a large table and buffet.
They passed the kitchen, where a fat, hairy man sweated in front of a deep, steel pot on the gas range and the small Hispanic woman plucked feathers off the goose, blood spatters on her white uniform.
They passed a closed door labeled MAINTENANCE, and turned toward a sunny hallway. Chairs had been stacked in the far corner. At the opposite end of the corridor, the door had a FIRE EXIT sticker above a reinforced glass panel.
“This door should be closer to the kitchen if it’s a fire exit,” Frank said. “And I didn’t see a single extinguisher.”
“Frank.”
“Well, it’s true . . .”
He followed her outside. The clouds he’d noticed earlier had disappeared, leaving only pure blue sky. Seagulls glided and dipped high above the lake, which was larger than he’d first thought. Where he’d seen only trees before, he noticed the water curved around a bend between the mainland and a peninsula. This part of the lake was the size of a football field, but it could easily go on for miles beyond the narrow bay. Steel-gray mountains lined the horizon.
Boards creaked as Linda mounted the dock, wobbling underfoot. To the far right were two large wooden racks replete with four kayaks and two canoes, life preservers, paddles, and hanging snorkeling gear. Moored to the dock, a tin fishing boat with an outboard engine drummed against it in a light current.
The dock was still wet where the tall brunette had been stretched out, drying off, her butt print a visible heart shape at Linda’s feet. Linda squinted up at the lodge with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun and gave him a shrewd look.
“What?”
“You were watching birds. Or a bird.”
“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t check out the concierge.”
“I generally don’t fall all over myself for gay men, Frank.”
He scowled. “Is this an inquisition or are you coming for a dip?”
“I need to get warmed up first.”
He’d heard those words many times before in a very different context. Linda sat on the dock, avoiding the wet patch—another thing she did under different circumstances—and lay back with her head on her hands.
“That rifle’s in the office,” she said as he sat down on the edge, dipping his legs into the cool water.
“How did you spot that?”
“It’s my job.”
It wasn’t, not technically, but he let her have it.
“There are two of them locked in a rack. Both have locks on the triggers.”
“I’m just gonna tuck that little factoid in my back pocket.”
Linda squinted at him.
“What?” he said.
“Don’t say that, it’s weird. And anyway, those shorts don’t have pockets.”
“They don’t?” He felt his ass and found she was right. She should be, having bought them for him. “You don’t think we’re in danger, do you?”
“Not from the staff. I don’t like that they didn’t tell us about the cameras, but it was in the contract. Then again, I also don’t like guns, especially in the hands of civilians.”
“You talk like my dad sometimes,” Frank said snidely.
“Well, sometimes your dad talks sense.” Her lips protruded in a look of regret. “I’m sorry, Frank.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He squinted out at the lake. “He was trying to protect me from going through the same thing we went through with Mom. I just . . . I shouldn’t have told you. Not while you were going through…" He hesitated, not wanting to bring up the pain in her past that was still so present between them, no matter how they tried to avoid it. "It was stupid.”
He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, but she retracted her hand as he turned, and she draped her arm over her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know we promised not to bring it up this weekend.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s silly to think we’ll avoid it this weekend. It’s a part of us.”
He felt tears coming on and hoped getting in the lake would disguise them. “I’m going in.”
“Already?” There was disappointment in her tone.
“The water,” he explained. He placed his hands on the dock on either side of himself, twisting at the hips to slip backward into the water. “Oh! It’s cold!”
The chill spread through his bones, and he front-crawled away from the dock. He spotted a rock in the tea-colored water, and rested the tips of his toes on its slimy surface, using his arms to keep himself afloat.
Linda lay with one leg bent, the toes of the other stretched toward him, an arm draped over her face. He considered attempting to cajole her into sex, but her response to “What Brought You Here?” came back and soured the mood.
He swam back to the dock and pulled himself up on his elbows. “Warm enough yet?”
“Getting there.” Her voice was muffled under her arm.
Frank watched her a moment, glad to see her looking healthy again. “Let’s try to make the best of this weekend, huh?” he said. “It sucks, but we’re kind of stuck in it now. No use making it worse by fighting with each other.”
Linda raised her arm to squint at him, but said nothing.
“You know the concierge? Alex? He said he came here with his husband. They didn’t make it through the treatment.”
“I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I guess not. Anyway, his husband passed, so don’t bring it up.”
“Recently?”
“No idea.”
“So they failed the test, is that how it works?”
“No idea. But he told me he thinks we’re gonna make it. Said he knows the look.”
“Hmm.” She seemed unconvinced. “We should ask him about Trevor.”
“I doubt he’d be able to talk about it. Confidentiality and all that.”
“True.”
“What do you think? I mean about us. Do you see us making it?”
Linda rolled to her side, facing him, and propped up on an elbow. “When we first met, Frank, I could see our entire future plotted out before us.”
“And now?”
“You know that expression about not seeing the forest for the trees?”
He nodded, unsure where she was going.
“That’s us right now. Only we’re chained to trees on opposite ends of the forest.” Whatever that meant, she let it hang between them. “This weekend is the clear cut. Total deforestation. And if we’re on the trees left standing, maybe we’ll be able to see each other clearly again over all those dead stumps.”
Frank nodded, pulling himself up onto the dock. “I like that. I mean I thought you were gonna say ‘We’re the trees,’ but I like what you said better.”
They smiled at each other as the dock swayed in the light current.
Frank and Linda returned to their separate rooms, having agreed to meet in her room after they’d changed out of their wet swimsuits to discuss the contract.
Even in her haste, Linda had thought to bring along the summery dress Frank loved, and she wore it when she opened the door for him. He took a moment to drink her in before stepping inside.
God, she’s beautiful.
He felt underdressed in a loose, white linen short-sleeved shirt and khakis.
Linda moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed. Her room was a disaster zone and not just the usual piles of clothes on the floor and beauty products strewn over the vanity. She’d obviously been hunting for cameras and listening devices.
“Find any more?”
She shook her head, seeming oddly disappointed.
Frank closed the door, dragged the vanity chair over, and sat across from her.
“You could’ve sat with me. We sleep in the same bed at home, it’s not like I’m allergic.”
“I thought this was a business meeting,” he said with a grin.
With a jovial shake of her head, she crossed her shimmering cocoa-buttered legs and licked an index finger to flip through the contract. “The nondisclosure thing is important. We can’t divulge anything about The Method or they’ll sue our asses off. That’s why Trevor and Dillon were so secretive about it, although I’m surprised they mentioned it at all. The language here is water tight.”
Frank nodded thoughtfully.
“And here,” she said, pointing to a paragraph on the third page. “It says we have to provide a urine sample if asked. I guess they want to make sure we’re going into this with a clear head.”
“Let me see that.” She turned the contract for him to read. “‘Participants found to have consumed illegal substances allow the right to search and seizure; should illegal substances be found, the Participant will be ejected from the premises.’“
Frank met Linda’s wide eyes. “Have you brushed your teeth yet? My teeth feel fuzzy from lunch.”
She caught his slight nod and agreed. “I have to brush mine too.”
They both stood as casually as possible and crossed the to the en suite. Linda locked the door behind them and stood very close to him in the cramped room.
“I’d better do something with that weed,” Frank whispered. “Doesn’t it take a while to get results?”
“Usually twenty-four hours for a negative. If it’s positive, they have to do more testing to figure out what drug it is. Either way, best to get rid of it. When did you smoke up last?”
“Couple of weeks ago.”
“That’s probably fine. Wait . . . was that at my sister’s wedding?”
“Shhh!” Frank said, putting a finger to his lips. “Of course it wasn’t.”
Even in a whisper, he sounded guilty. She gave him a narrow-eyed gaze.
“Okay fine, I smoked a bit at Laura’s wedding. I was stressed. Everyone was asking how you and me were doing. Asking about kids and all that. Danny offered, I said sure. “
“Of course it was fucking Danny.”
“He’s a wildcard.” Frank shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Linda. I’ll get rid of it. We’ll be—wait. Did it say anything about a refund?”
“I thought you wanted to go through with this.”
He gave her a mock-offended scowl. “Of course I do, just if they found it already, then we’d get our money back.”
“We don’t even know if they’re going to do a drug test. It could be just another head game, like the disappearing camera or those tricky questions on that test.”
Frank thought back to the way the test had slipped from Alex’s hand and realized there was no way the concierge wouldn’t have noticed it fall. Frank had heard it flutter all the way from his room. It made him wonder it Alex had dropped it on purpose for him to find.
To see her answer to that final question.
Closure.
The word made him tense.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing. You’re right. We’ll have to keep on our toes. Stay one step ahead of the game.”
Linda wrinkled her nose. “Okay, you really should brush your teeth. I can taste what you had for lunch.”
“Sorry, I had to burp.” He picked up his toothbrush from the ceramic holder. “Meet you out there?”
Linda nodded and eagerly stepped out, closing the door behind her.
Frank snuck out the side door to the parking lot and glanced over his shoulder before opening the passenger door of the hatchback and rooting around under the seat. His fingers roamed over crumbs, coins, and small plastic wrappers, until finally settling on the bag of weed Linda had hidden. He palmed it, reached into the glove box, and pulled out the box of Swisher Sweets he’d bought when he quit smoking after Lin’s diagnosis. Slipping the baggie into his pocket, he stood with a cigarillo held between his teeth.
As he passed the high-end SUV he supposed must have belonged to the new arrivals, the vehicle’s alarm began to blare, and Frank jumped out of the way with a cry of "Fuck!"
The alarm still blaring in his wake, he sauntered down to the dock and lit the smoke with a disposable lighter. Its sweet cherry tobacco smell perked him up. He still missed smoking the real thing, but the Swishers dulled his occasional craving.
When he reached the end of the dock, the alarm stopped with a blip blip! He watched the low afternoon sun flicker on the lake, slipped a hand into his pocket, and opened the baggie, ready to dispose of its contents in the water.
“Mind if I join you?”
He jerked his hand free from his pocket. “Be my guest,” he said, trying not to sound spooked.
The tall woman wore an ankle-length, jade-green gown, cut low enough in the front that he suspected she’d had to tape her boobs to keep them from spilling out. No bra straps were visible anyway, and from how seamlessly the dress fit her hourglass figure, Frank assumed she wasn’t wearing any panties either. Barefoot, she held a pair of heels in her left hand and approached him with a cigarette poised between plump cherry red lips. “Got a light?”
He lit her cigarette, breathing in a citrusy, floral scent that reminded him of the perfume his mother used to wear, Chanel No 5 maybe. She stepped back, dragging on the smoke as she eyed him with an amused half smile.
“Had to get away from the husband. He’s been driving me absolutely bonkers talking about business.”
Frank raised his eyebrows noncommittally and puffed on his Swisher.
“He thinks I care about that stuff, but I don’t have a mind for boring details. I’m a big picture gal.” She gave a wicked look over her shoulder toward the lodge. “Excep
t when he cheated on me, the scoundrel. I wanted to hear every sordid little tidbit about that.”
“That right?”
“It is.” She squinted at him through a haze of smoke. “So why are you here? You don’t look the type to have an affair.”
“Ha.”
“No offense.” She shrugged. “You just strike me as one of the good guys.”
He frowned. “I do, do I?”
She nodded slowly, holding his gaze almost sensually.
Frank leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, what would you say if I told you I came out here to get rid of a bag of marijuana?”
She laughed. “Did you? How delicious! But that doesn’t make you a bad boy. For all I know, you have glaucoma.”
Frank laughed. “All right, so I’m not a bad boy. I was just joking about the weed, anyway.”
“No you weren’t.” She swatted his arm. “I suppose you’re not too goody two shoes. I did see you peeping at me from your window up there.”
He coughed out a lungful of smoke.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’d have done the same if the positions were reversed.”
Frank got a hold of his breathing, swallowing a hard lump of phlegm. “I used to be in better shape.”
“The human body is a work of art. We’re all painted using different colors and strokes—” Frank noticed an emphasis on the word strokes, although he could have just imagined it. “—but there’s always something to be admired, even among the grotesque.”
“Are you saying I’m grotesque?”
Again she swatted him with a playful grin. “Not you. The chef, for instance. Ugly as sin, but there’s a loneliness to those puppy-dog eyes of his that makes me want to snuggle him into my lap and stroke his sweaty, bald head.”
“I didn’t get that close a look at him,” Frank admitted.
“He’s a cuddler. Trust me.”
Frank laughed again. “You’re an interesting woman.”
“Oh, I’m a lot less interesting than you might think. I’m just . . .” She cracked a half-smile. “New,” she finished.
Frank wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded. “I’m gonna get rid of this weed. Could you make a distraction or something?”
“I could do a little salsa dance for you . . .”
“Not unless you want me to get in even deeper with the wife.”
The Method Page 5
