“Yeah.”
“So how was your swim?” she asked.
He thought for a moment, unsure of what to say.
She frowned. “Lowell?”
He forced himself to smile. “Fine,” he told her. “Fine.”
Six
“Check out that one. I bet her snatch is a snack and a half.”
Owen casually glanced to his left, following David’s subtle nod, and saw an older girl, probably seventeen or eighteen, walking toward them, the thin material of her white thong bikini clinging to her lithe form, revealing jutting nipples and a visible cleft between her thighs.
They were sitting in the Jacuzzi, drinking Cokes, feigning a sophistication only David actually possessed. Originally, David had wanted to go swimming, and Curtis would have gone along with it even though he didn’t want to, but Owen had put his foot down. They’d been the first people to the pool this morning other than the staff, and when he’d glanced into the water of the deep end next to the waterfall, he had spied a shape at the bottom. The same human shape he and Curtis had seen yesterday. He didn’t think his brother had noticed it because Curtis had been scoping out a hot resort worker in a one-piece who was scooping bugs and leaves out of the shallow end with a net, but he could tell from Curtis’s reaction to David’s suggestion that they get in some serious swim time that the figure was still in his mind.
The dead man.
That’s what it was. It wasn’t a figure. It was the drowned body of a man, and the fact that it had disappeared and turned into something like a stain on the light blue bottom of the pool made him think that it was probably the ghost of someone who’d died there. Not that he really believed in ghosts—not exactly—but he was still open-minded enough not to discount things he saw just because other people said they weren’t true.
So he’d suggested that they hang out in the Jacuzzi, check out the chicks. Going on babe watch automatically trumped swimming, and David and Curtis readily agreed to his plan. They’d been here for nearly half an hour now, watching as the pool area filled up, even scaring away an elderly couple who wanted to use the whirlpool.
The girl in the white thong passed by, and all three of them casually turned their heads to check out her ass.
“I’d love to sniff her suit,” David said, and Owen could not help giggling.
Curtis finished his Coke and tapped his plastic cup on the raised ring of cement encircling the Jacuzzi. David tossed him the two-liter bottle and Curtis poured himself a refill. Suddenly the whirlpool’s timer went off, and the jets stopped, bubbles ceasing. David stood. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m sweating like a fucking pig here. I think it’s time we hit the cool water.”
Curtis nodded. “I’m with you.”
Even Owen had to admit that a half hour in swirling warm water beneath an increasingly hot sun was more than enough. The three of them got out, carrying their drinks and walking over to the edge of the big pool. In front of them, two young boys sped down the slide together.
“Fags,” David said disdainfully. He sat down on the edge of the pool, putting his feet in the water. “Jesus Christ!” he cried out. “That’s cold!”
It was cold, Owen discovered as he dangled his own toes, and though he knew the best and quickest way to get used to the water was to jump in all at once, the three of them opted for a more gradual approach, sitting there and allowing their legs to slowly stir the water in an effort to acclimatize themselves.
A moment later, David’s parents passed by on their way to the restaurant for a late breakfast or early lunch or brunch. Owen was amazed by how casual and unconcerned they seemed about their son. They’d both been under the impression that David was back in their room watching television and were surprised to see him here, but aside from a perfunctory greeting, they didn’t stop to talk, didn’t even seem to give a shit where he was or what he was doing, and the second they were beyond the shallow end of the pool, David was on his feet facing their retreating backs, both middle fingers raised high in the air.
Owen and Curtis looked at each other. Their parents might have been incurable doofuses who embarrassed them more often than not and put far too many restrictions on them in comparison with the parents of their friends, but at least things had not deteriorated to this extent. David was grinning, as though the whole thing was hilarious, but Owen thought it was kind of sad. He remembered an antidrug commercial he’d seen where a bunch of kids pissed and moaned about their too-strict parents, recited a litany of offenses, said “I hated you,” and then looked into the camera and said, “Thanks.” He’d always kind of felt that way himself—angry at his parents for their micromanagement of his life, yet at the same time grateful that they cared so much—and this split-second glimpse into David’s family dynamics only reinforced his feelings.
“Hey,” David said, fingering his earring, “why don’t we see who can get kicked out of the pool the fastest?”
“I don’t want to get kicked out,” Curtis told him.
“Me either,” Owen admitted.
“Okay. Let’s see who can do something outrageous and be the first to get a warning.” He glanced around. “They must have lifeguards around here someplace. Or some kind of hotel worker who can lecture us.”
“And it has to be on the slide,” Curtis said, getting into the mood. “No harassing people or yelling at kids or splashing old women. It’s for a trick or something you do on the slide.”
David nodded. “Deal.”
The slide.
Owen watched an over-the-hill jock careen down on his ass, hands in the air, whooping all the way, before landing above that irregular spot on the pool floor.
The body.
“Pussyboy?” Curtis prodded. “You in?”
“Yeah.” Owen nodded. “I’m in.”
David went first and, as agreed, Owen and Curtis sat on the edge of the pool and watched from the sidelines. At the top of the slide, David stood for a moment, then shouted “My balls!” at the top of his lungs and, melodramatically clutching his groin, slid face-first all the winding way down to the water.
No one even noticed. There were no reprimands over the loudspeaker, outraged security guards did not meet him at the pool’s edge, and the swimmers and sunbathers surrounding them did not look up at David’s cry.
“Strike one,” Curtis said as David swam up. He dove in and with long even strokes headed for the recessed steps in the faux cliff, which he climbed quickly. Reaching the top, Curtis stood for a moment at the head of the slide in a classic surfer’s pose—knees bent, arms stretched out for balance—before shoving off and riding to the bottom, standing all the way.
Suddenly the piped-in music stopped, and an echoing voice came over the hidden speakers: “Please remain seated on the slide. Any guest who stands on or misuses the slide will be barred from using the pool for the rest of the day.”
“Son of a bitch,” David said.
Curtis laughed, swimming up. “Works every time.”
“You win,” David admitted. “You have mad skills, man.” He looked at Owen. “What were you going to do?”
Owen shrugged. “Wave my weenie at the crowd.”
“Brought a pair of tweezers along, did you?”
“You’re thinking of my brother.”
Curtis splashed him. “Loser.”
“Ten o’clock,” David said under his breath.
Owen and Curtis casually turned their heads; Owen to the left, Curtis to the right. A good-looking girl of approximately their own age was walking lazily toward them through the shallow water, using her arms to help propel her forward.
“Breast stroke,” David muttered.
The girl reached them and stopped, looking from one to the other before letting her gaze settle on Owen. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Brenda.”
“Owen,” he managed to get out.
“These your friends?”
“Brother,” Curtis said, introducing himself. “My name’s Curtis. No one calls me
Curt.”
“David,” David said suavely. “No one calls me Dave.”
“You can call me Owe if you want,” Owen said lamely.
Brenda laughed. She had one of those inviting, infectious laughs that you usually only heard in movies or read about in books, an inclusive full-throated expression of mirth that was at once hearty and supremely feminine. “I saw you guys on the slide. What in the world were you thinking? Was that some sort of dare?”
“A bet,” Curtis corrected.
“A bet? What for? Money?”
“Nothing. It was more like a contest,” Owen explained.
“Well you must’ve won. You’re the only one who didn’t completely humiliate himself.”
“He was up next,” Curtis said. “He was going to stand up there and flash the pool.”
Brenda raised an eyebrow. “The full monty?”
Owen reddened, splashed his brother in retaliation.
“I’m sorry it didn’t get that far.”
They let that one hang there.
She was definitely a hottie, Owen thought. And for some ungodly reason, she seemed to have taken an interest in him. He had no idea why. Back in the real world, back at his school, none of the girls were interested in him at all. He wasn’t some freak like Kyle Hendersen, wasn’t completely ostracized and rejected by society, but he wasn’t in the winner’s circle, either. He was just part of the nameless rabble whom no one noticed and whom girls chose to ignore. Curtis, too, although at least Lisa Bowen seemed to be interested in him.
“So what are you guys doing?” Brenda asked. “Want to check out the Jacuzzi?”
They looked at each other.
“Sure,” Owen said, and though he was starting to sweat just thinking about that hot water, he forced himself to smile.
“All right,” “Okay,” David and Curtis acquiesced.
She waited for them to get out of the pool first, probably not wanting them to check out her ass as she pulled herself out of the water—or maybe wanting to check out their asses as they got out. Owen suddenly felt self-conscious, and he quickly hoisted himself onto the cement and hurried over to the Jacuzzi. David cranked up the timer and the jets kicked in just as Owen was sitting down.
Brenda padded across the hot concrete toward them, and Owen was acutely conscious of the fact that her crotch was just about eye level. He immediately looked away, not wanting to be caught staring, and she sat down in the Jacuzzi next to him. She sat slightly closer than was polite, their thighs practically touching even though there was plenty of room for everyone.
“So where are you all from?” she asked.
You all, Owen thought. She was probably from the South. His heart sank a little. Although he knew it was stupid and childish, he’d held out hope that she lived somewhere near him, that they’d hit it off here at the resort and go back home as boyfriend and girlfriend. Curtis would laugh outrageously if he knew his brother had such sappy thoughts, and David most certainly would too, but Owen couldn’t help it.
“Tucson,” David said, tugging at his earring. “I’m a local boy.”
“We’re from California,” Curtis offered.
“Me too! Where?”
Owen’s heart speeded up. “Brea.”
“Fountain Valley! We’re practically neighbors!”
He had a chance. Fountain Valley was at the opposite end of Orange County and still seemed pretty far to him, but he’d be getting his learner’s permit in five months, be able to drive in a year and a half, and then the distance wouldn’t matter. He felt absurdly elated, and he vowed to do everything he could to get to know this girl. It might lead nowhere—she was definitely out of his league and would probably discover that in about a minute—but his vacation suddenly seemed about a thousand times better.
“How long are you staying?” he asked her.
“Five nights.”
Five nights. The same as them. The same as David. Something about that made him feel vaguely curious about the coincidence, but overriding that was the exciting realization that they’d all be here together for several more days. It seemed too good to be true.
“You hear about the dive-in movie?” David asked.
Brenda shook her head.
“Saturday night. They’re going to drop a screen over the area where the waterfall is and let people watch the movie while they swim or float on rafts or just sit on the edge with their feet in the water. Sounds pretty cool.”
“We’ll be there,” Owen offered.
“What’s the movie?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Some old family flick. Toy Story or something. I don’t know. But it’ll be kind of fun just to hang out in the pool, watch the movie.” He grinned. “Snorkle between people and scare them. Pull down their bathing suits.”
Brenda laughed. “I’ll be there.” Under the cover of bubbles, she put her hand on Owen’s thigh, gave his leg a small squeeze.
Shit like this didn’t happen to him.
The pool area was really crowded now. There were long lines at the snack bar and the raft booth, and all of the chairs and tables seemed to be taken. Several parents had put down blankets on the cement for their kids to lay out on. So many people were clustered in the shallow end of the water that a young girl, apparently lost and confused, paddled around in a circle crying. From somewhere within the cacophonous din of the crowd, they all heard a faint voice call out, “Brenda!”
Brenda stood. “I have to go. My dad’s calling me.”
“Uh, nice to meet you,” Owen said awkwardly.
“I’m busy this afternoon, but why don’t we meet out here tonight,” she said. “About nine?”
“Where?” Curtis asked.
“Right here. At the Jacuzzi.”
It would be tough to get out, and they’d have to come up with something pretty damn good to convince their mom that they should be allowed to roam around the resort by themselves after dark, but one look at Brenda’s warm inviting smile made Owen realize that, whatever it took, he would do it. He thought of her hand squeezing his leg and imagined what might happen under the cover of darkness. “We’ll be here,” he said.
Involuntarily, he glanced over at the big pool. A father waited in front of the slide for his little boy to come down. His heart skipped in his chest. What would that shape on the pool floor look like at night? Would it appear as benign as it did now? Or would the heft return, the sense of three-dimensionality?
He pushed the thought from his mind, focused on Brenda.
She smiled at him. “See you later.” She waved to Curtis and David. “Bye, guys.”
They watched as she climbed out and padded across the cement, disappearing into the throng of guests.
Curtis was jealous, he could tell, but David high-fived him. “Way to go, bro!”
Owen grinned.
“Don’t get too cocky, though.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to get.”
“Cock?” Curtis snickered. “I always had my doubts about you.”
“Asshole.” He kicked his feet, splashed water on his brother.
Suddenly, Curtis grimaced. “Oh no,” he groaned, his eyes focused on a point past Owen’s shoulder.
He turned around to see their mom marching toward them, Ryan out in front of her.
David grinned. “Looks like it’s babysitting time for you fine young ladies.”
The three of them looked at each other, then, without speaking, simultaneously leaped out of the Jacuzzi and sprinted to the big pool.
Owen dived in. “Cur—” he heard his mom call out in the split second before his head hit the water, and then the three of them were speeding through the pool as quickly as they could away from Ryan.
Seven
I was misinformed.
The line from Casablanca kept going through his head as Patrick Schlaegel checked in. Around him in The Reata’s spacious lobby he saw old couples and young families. Through the glass doors and picture window that overlooked th
e main pool, kids were playing in the water while middle-aged Middle Americans lay whitely on the padded lounge chairs soaking up sun or idly flipping through mass-market magazines.
Where were the singles, the hot babes, the scenesters? He’d been under the impression that this resort catered to a young hip crowd, had been led to believe that he would be among his people here rather than stuck staying with a bunch of refugees from Branson and Orlando.
I was misinformed.
Townsend had been the one to put that idea in his head, and Patrick would not be surprised to learn that the misconception had been intentional. It was just like the editor to play a joke like that on him, and Patrick vowed that if that was indeed what had happened, he would pay the man back in spades.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d at least been somewhat close to Tucson. He’d come out west for the Tucson International Film Festival, and his plan had been to spend the week alternately checking out the films and getting in a little R and R. At the paper’s expense, of course.
But The Reata was way the hell out in the Far Country, the Big Country, the Wonderful Country—his mind supplied endless descriptions from the golden age of westerns—and that pretty much ruled out the flexible schedule he’d had in mind. After the hellacious trip out here, just attending the festival seemed like far too much work. He dreaded the thought of driving fifty miles through the desert to watch some pretentious art film, then driving fifty miles back here to sleep at night. There was nothing more excruciating than sitting through a bad avant-garde movie. At least with a failed comedy or a crappy genre flick a viewer could be distracted and sometimes entertained by the plot, as simplistic, predictable and pedestrian as it might be. But when you were stuck with something like The Depth of Aphis, which he’d seen at the Cutting Edge Festival last month and which consisted entirely of a grotesquely overweight woman stacking and restacking building blocks in a badly lit room while an infuriating piano played the same note endlessly, there was very little entertainment value to be had.
And from everything he’d heard about the new organizer for the Tucson festival, that’s exactly the type of movie he was likely to encounter.
The Resort Page 6
