In Tracy’s never-kept-a-secret-opinion, Paul had been with every pretty girl on the island. Only a handful of girls held the honor of being his repeats, or regulars, and at the moment, Shelli held the position as the winner with the most notches in her belt. Tracy also seemed to think Shelli felt elevated above the others for that reason.
“She acts like the Queen Bee,” Tracy said.
Shelli was very beautiful. Rhees wondered what it would be like to be so perfect—perfect face, skin, hair, and body—perfect like Paul, the perfect couple. However, Tracy’s gossip on the matter confused Rhees.
“Why would Shelli be jealous of me?”
Krista, Dorene, and Brita were pretty, and also on Paul’s list of regulars. It puzzled Rhees how they could all be such tight friends. It was like belonging to some private club—Paul’s Coitus Club. Rhees smirked at her newly coined name for the girls. She concluded that as long as Krista, Dorene, and Brita didn’t forget that Shelli was the president of the club, it all worked out somehow.
There were other girls on the island who belonged to the club too, but it seemed easier for those girls. They didn’t have Shelli around all day, reminding them who held the position as his favorite.
Paul couldn’t walk down the street without girls approaching him—everywhere he went, they flocked to him. It was no wonder he was so sexually active. How could any guy resist such easy offerings?
“Blech!” Rhees cringed. She wondered why any woman would debase herself with a guy like him. She found the idea disgusting. Yes, he might be the perfect physical specimen of a man, but Rhees believed there were better, more important qualities that made a man attractive.
Shelli explained ambient pressure, again—something Rhees continued to struggle with. Paul came around the corner with a girl from one of the other dive shops. They laughed and horsed around, making it impossible for anyone not to notice them. They worked their way to the end of the dock, where Paul took the girl in his arms and gave her a long, passionate kiss.
He looked back at Rhees just before he pushed the girl into the water and he jumped in after her. He dragged the girl, who continued to giggle all the way, to Frock. Shelli watched as well, obviously not happy about it. She gave Rhees a dirty look and stormed off.
“Frock.” Tracy leaned toward Rhees and spoke discreetly.
“I get it,” Rhees said dryly.
“See, no one can really see anything.” Tracy acted as if it was perfectly normal, almost admirable.
Rhees turned, refusing to watch. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t really see. Just knowing made her nauseated. She stormed off too.
oOo
“It’s official!” Rhees complained when she came back from lunch, her tone loud and resigned. “There isn’t one ounce of peanut butter on this whole freakin’ island!”
“Peanut butter?” several people said at once.
“That stuff is disgusting. Why do you want peanut butter?” Tracy asked.
“Are you kidding? It’s a main staple for me. I might have to go home early just because I’m going to die here without it.”
Dobbs walked up. His large, tall body cast a shadow over Rhees. “They have Vegemite. Have you tried that?” He pushed the wire-framed glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.
“Is that like peanut butter?”
Paul walked up at that moment. “No. Vegemite is a disgusting paste that tastes salty, malty, and bitter.” He took a stab at Dobbs, his Australian friend, and didn’t actually intend to engage Rhees in conversation. She didn’t want to talk to him either, so she walked off, leaving Paul and Dobbs to discuss whether peanut butter or Vegemite held the honor as the most disgusting food on the planet.
She wandered into the office and decided to work on the Dailies.
“Bloody hell!” Claire threw her pencil at the wall.
“What’s wrong?”
“A potential customer I’ve been working on decided on another destination. We only have one group of tourists on the books right now, and that’s next week. We have nothing after that. We need more customers. The students are good money while they’re enrolled, but they don’t leave when they’re finished. They stay for months and once their instruction is done, they get to dive at a very good discount. It’s killing our bottom line.”
“Is the shop in trouble?”
Claire glanced at her and then looked around to make sure no one lurked within earshot. “Not really, but sort of. Like I said, the students are good money but once they’re done . . . It would be best if we could just keep a steady stream of real, paying customers coming in. Right now, I think Paul is subsidizing the shop from his personal bank account.”
The thought of the shop not doing well made Rhees sad. She’d fallen in love with it and the island. Except for Paul, and maybe Shelli, she really liked it there.
“So how do we get more tourists?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. Paul is supposed to be some toff, the dog’s bollocks in the business world, but for some reason, he hasn’t put his heart into this. He would rather dive, ride jet skis, surf, parasail, and shag every woman on the island. You name it—anything but work. Oh, did I mention, shag every woman on the island?” They both laughed.
Later, Rhees thought about what Claire said as she wrote the daily post for the shop’s blog. She still needed to post the dive pictures for the day, one of her Dailies. While she waited for the computer to load the pictures, she scrolled through past posts, the ones Paul had posted before she took over. Every post looked the same, a picture of some sea creature, a picture of a wreck, a picture here and there of divers diving. She looked the website over and started surfing the Internet and various social media sites.
She went back to the shop’s site and read through the comments. She noticed one past customer, a female, had posted a comment with a picture. Rhees stared at the picture for a minute. Paul stood next to the woman, his arm around her and there was no doubt in Rhees’ mind that he had slept with her. The comment read, “This is my dive master. Can you see why I can’t wait to go back to Paradise Divers?” Rhees rolled her eyes.
Nothing else really stood out. She searched the Internet again. She searched other dive shop sites and studied them. There were a few things she thought would be nice to incorporate into Paradise’s web image, but she was under strict instructions from Mr. Grumpy Pants on how he wanted it done. She sighed.
oOo
Rhees walked into her apartment, happy to be home. It had been a particularly stressful day, so she’d left the shop a little early. She strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to decide what she wanted to do for dinner. She settled on a quesadilla in hopes of saving a few pennies.
She turned and noticed Regina’s laptop on the table. Regina had apparently left her camera to upload pictures to the computer, and Rhees watched as pictures of Paul flashed one after another on the screen. She moved to the table, sat down and watched mindlessly at the sheer number of pictures running across the screen. When it finished, the file sat open, revealing a folder devoted entirely to Paul.
Regina walked in and froze. “What are you doing home too early?”
“You mean so early.” Tracy wasn’t around to correct Regina’s English, and Rhees couldn’t believe how easily she’d stepped into the role. She pointed to the computer. “What is this?”
“Nothing!” Regina raced over and shut the screen.
“Why do you have so many pictures of Paul?”
“That is not none of your stupid business.” Regina scowled.
“Regina, really?” Rhees asked. Though she knew the answer, she couldn’t understand why. “He’s a spoiled brat.”
“He’s beautiful,” Regina whispered, and then looked panicked. “Please do not tell anyone about this.”
&nb
sp; Rhees rolled her eyes. “Of course, but Regina, there are other things—better attributes—that make a man desirable. There are more important things to consider than looks. Paul’s a mean, horrible person. Why would you want someone like him?”
“You do not know him like I know him. He is caring, and generous, and smart, and charming—”
“Stop. You’re wasting your time. I’m sure even a serial killer has his moments.” Rhees meant to sound sarcastic and funny.
“Look at him. He’s so beautiful.” Regina opened the laptop again and they waited for the file to open up. She scrolled through picture after picture of him. She had pictures of him smiling, laughing, talking and having fun. There were pictures of him scowling, worrying, and even looking sad.
“I like these best,” Regina said and she scrolled down to a different set of pictures, at least fifty of them, showing him sitting on the corner of the deck, staring out over the ocean, watching the sunset—alone, after shop hours.
Rhees had never seen him be anything more than a primal, instinctual caveman, the hunter who did nothing but spread his seed and grunt. She never pictured him to be the type to sit and contemplatively watch a sunset. There was one picture in particular. Rhees couldn’t take her eyes off it—the longing in his eyes.
“What’s he looking at in this one?” Rhees asked quietly, actually feeling her heart soften a bit for him.
Regina shrugged and got all nervous for some reason . . . which brought another question to Rhees’ mind.
“How did you get these? Don’t tell me you actually spy on him?”
Regina squirmed uneasily, but didn’t answer.
“Regina. Do you do anything all day besides take pictures of Paul?” Rhees couldn’t imagine it. Regina shrugged and opened another folder and scrolled through pictures of other people from the shop and around town. She had pictures of places and things depicting a typical day on the island, but the file was much smaller.
“You’re a very good photographer. You’ve really captured life here. Can I use some of these on the shop’s blog?” Rhees asked, unsure how Regina would feel about sharing her life through the lens with the world.
Regina shrugged again.
Rhees wondered how she would be able to pull it off, but she had an idea she hoped would attract more tourists to the shop.
Chapter 6
Rhees told Tracy and Regina she wanted to eat at home. She used being tired as an excuse, but she really just wanted to save a little money. Her budget was in dire straits, and she needed to buckle down and save some money somewhere, or she would starve to death before her scheduled flight home.
She planned to eat, read, and write in her journal. Actually, she called it her “Whine List”. She worried that when she died, someone might read it and think of her as the most pathetic, depressed person in the world. They would never know the truth based on the words in the book. A journal was supposed to be a chronicle of a person’s life, but she only wrote when she felt down. Putting what bothered her down on paper helped rid her emotionally of the negative energy so she could concentrate on the positive. She found herself writing a lot more often recently.
She still schlepped tanks and cleaned the bathroom, still did the Dailies every day, and she still had never gone out to get her required open water dives. The training dives were all included in the price of her tuition, and at first, she didn’t mind waiting, but she was running out of time.
With her vacation more than half over, she’d started considering the possibility she might not get certified at all. She shook her head. “Even Mr. Grumpy Pants isn’t that cruel. He wouldn’t do that to me.”
oOo
Rhees’ eyes grew tired from reading. She decided to call it quits and go to bed. The clock only said eight thirty, but she told herself she would appreciate the extra sleep in the morning.
Tracy and Regina burst into the apartment and ran into their bedroom while Rhees brushed her teeth. She quickly rinsed and followed them into their room. “What are you guys doing home so early?”
“Changing our clothes. There’s a dance contest. You should come.”
“No thanks. I was just going to bed.”
“Everyone who dances wins money,” Regina said to tempt her.
“I got almost six dollars last time, and I have absolutely no rhythm,” Tracy said. “The winner got thirty-one dollars.”
“Really?” Rhees could use a little extra cash. Even a few dollars would help. She was acutely aware of how close her budget was going to be. “What do you have to do?”
“Dance.” Never one to beat around the bush, Regina didn’t bother to hide what she thought of Rhees’ question.
“How does it work?”
“Each girl has a number. They pass a tray around the bar while we dance, and the spectators put money in the cup of the dancer they like the best. When it’s over, they split the money. The winner gets half of the take, the bar keeps twenty-five percent, and they split what’s left with all the other contestants.” Tracy explained it while she wrapped a skirt around her waist and took her T-shirt off so she could remove her bra. She put her shirt back on and asked, “How do I look?”
“You get more money if you wear something sexy,” Regina said. “Come with us. You would definitely help pad the pot. The guys are always more generous when someone like you is dancing.”
“Paul will probably be there.” Tracy glanced over at Regina, and then they both looked at Rhees to watch her reaction.
“No way, then.”
Regina walked up to Rhees and put her hands on her shoulders. “He still has the hots for you. It is obvious.”
Rhees put her hands on Regina’s shoulders, mimicking her. “I. Don’t. Care.”
Regina acted like she didn’t even hear. “That is why he tries so hard to prove he does not, but everybody knows it.” Regina leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I have pictures to prove it.”
“And you’re telling me this because you think I give a crap?”
Regina sighed, obviously baffled at how Rhees could be so immune to Paul. “No. I’m telling you this because Paul has money . . . and he drinks a lot, and when he drinks a lot, he gets very generous at the dance contests. Put on something sexy, bat your eyes a little, and then dance. If you really hate him for the way he’s been treating you, make him pay.” She smiled mischievously.
Rhees thought about it for a minute. Regina’s logic didn’t make sense to her but she needed the cash. “Wait for me.”
Rhees ran to her bedroom and dug down to the bottom of her duffle bag. She pulled out a dark brown spandex dress. It brought back sad memories. She’d always lived at home, even while enrolled at college. One neighbor woman, Mrs. Michaels, had taken an interest in Rhees’ welfare after her mother died, and even more so after her father’s funeral. She’d helped Rhees through all the details that needed attending to. The day Rhees locked the door of her parents’ house for the final time, she had to sell it to finalize the estate, she’d slipped over to Mrs. Michael’s to say good-bye. The older woman surprised Rhees with a present.
The kind woman said she couldn’t let Rhees go off to an exotic island without a little black dress, but she thought Rhees always looked better in brown. Rhees didn’t have the heart to tell her she could never bring herself to wear something so tight, but she packed it anyway, feeling touched and indebted to the woman for all her help.
Rhees put the dress on and found the bronze sandals she wore her first day on the island. She hadn’t worn them since that day and it made her surprisingly happy to have an excuse to put on her favorite shoes again. She looked in the mirror. She’d lost some weight since arriving on the island, and the dress no longer felt so grossly tight, but it was still a little too much for her. She wished she had something else to wear instead, but she heard
a whistle from the door.
Tracy and Regina looked her over with obvious respect. “That should do it,” Regina said. “Can you dance?”
“I’ve been told I can.” Rhees smiled. Her mother had always said she started dancing before she could even walk.
“We are going to kill something tonight!”
“You mean, we’re going to make a killing,” Tracy corrected Regina.
“That is what I just said.”
oOo
A restaurant, hotel, and bar, the Emerald Starfish had it all. It derived its name from the elaborate mosaic of a starfish on the floor of the bar. The pieces of the mosaic were really just broken pieces of bottles, but there were a lot of green pieces, a sure sign the artist drank a lot of beer. It was a nice place, but off the main street, so they occasionally held dance contests and other gimmicky events to draw customers.
Rhees had never been there. “What an interesting place,” she said, looking around, following her friends. Everything sat under the open sky except the scattered hotel cabanas, the kitchen, and the actual bar. It felt almost like a maze in the jungle, or a tropical botanical garden. There were amazing pieces of mosaic art scattered around the grounds, set against the foliage. She wondered why the shop gang didn’t hang out there more often and enjoy its beauty. She loved it.
Rhees didn’t know where they were going, so she followed Tracy and Regina through the jungle maze to the bar. They walked by the bathroom along the way and the door happened to be open. It was the nicest public bathroom she’d seen on the island and her mouth hung open in awe as she walked by.
The walls were decorated generously with more beautiful mosaic art, and a real toilet sat inside instead of the outhouse-type hole in a wooden bench at Tanked, but one thing really caught Rhees’ eye—finally, she’d found a public restroom where she could wash her hands. The thought sounded so heavenly, she almost prostrated herself on the spot to pay homage.
Wet: Part 1 Page 7
