Hold up. Can’t write in this thing anymore.
Write later, diary.
Pam
*
“Jason, will you please hurry up?” Emily scowled at the young boy, just twenty years old. She was more than half his age older than him, and though she didn’t have children of her own, she felt distinctly like she was being forced to mother the useless duckling.
“Wait,” he called from the coffee shop. “I need my caffeine fix.”
Emily groaned. “Don’t you expect to sleep on the plane?”
“Nope,” he replied.
“Great,” Emily muttered to herself. The young boy had been nattering since they had met at the airport, all through the security checkpoints, all while they had checked in their luggage (and the twit had over-packed), until she had lost him momentarily. Emily hadn’t been trying to, but she seriously considered leaving him to his own devices before she remembered he was the son of the man that owned the magazine.
And that he was a part of this all, even if he didn’t know it. Michael Nimon had asked for him by name.
“It’s half past eleven, Jason. Can you just get your fucking coffee on the plane? Which, incidentally, leaves in twenty minutes?”
“There’s no need to be so hostile,” Jason said, leaving the queue, disappointment coloring his features. “Besides, they won’t do a smoothie on the plane.”
“A smoothie? A coffee smoothie?”
“Yeah, it’s called a—”
“Don’t care, Jason. Do not care.”
God, Emily thought, slapping her thighs with irritation as she walked. He was part of that generation that made coffee something far more complicated than it ever had to be.
The two walked in silence all the way to the gate, with Jason lagging behind maybe a meter. The boy was just that – a boy. He was pleasant to look at – she certainly wasn’t unable to see that – but he was useless, the product of a coddled, sheltered life where he had had everything handed to him.
His father ran a paranormal investigative magazine. Ergo, he was rich. It was obvious, really. The magazine bled money.
“You know, you could be a little more friendly, Ms. Worthington.”
“Would you please call me Emily? You make me sound like your teacher.”
“What is it with you and my age?”
“Nothing,” Emily said, sighing. She was probably being a little too harsh on the boy. “I just want to get on the plane, get to Greece, travel to Crete, climb up the side of this damn mountain, enter the mouth of the cave, and see a bloody Minotaur fossil.”
“Shh!” Jason hissed, looking around him conspiratorially. “This is top secret stuff.”
“It’s an airport, Jason. Nobody is listening.”
His eyes widened with disbelief, and he shook his head like a conspiracy theorist. Given the topic of Wild, it wasn’t all that out-there.
“You never know. I read this—”
“Don’t care, Jason.”
“You need to get laid.”
Emily stopped and turned, wide-eyed to look at the kid. “What did you say?”
“Um,” Jason faltered, his brief spurt of ‘actually-interesting’ wilting before her hard stare.
“Go on, tell me what you said.”
“Uh,” he stammered, looking from left to right.
“Nobody is watching, don’t feel embarrassed. Now tell me what you said to me just now.”
“Um,” Jason stalled, clearing his through. “I, uh, said you, uh, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“You need to, uh, bed… a man?”
“I need to bed a man?” Emily repeated, echoing the idiot boy’s same awkward pause. “First of all, that’s none of your business. Second of all,” Emily said, pointing her finger at him, scolding. “You’re going to have to learn you can’t talk to women that way. Or anybody, for that matter. Third, all I need right now is to get on the plane. So, new rule: you’re not to utter a word to me, not even a breath, unless I ask you something.”
“Yes, Ms. Worthington,” Jason said. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips for just a fraction of a second before disappearing. But Emily had caught it, and her mouth hung open, her head tilted to the side, unbelieving.
“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. Eventually, she grinned and put her finger in his face again. “Be careful.”
“Why?” he asked, grinning back at her. “Are you dangerous?”
Emily sighed and walked off to the queue forming at the gate. Unbelievable! She thought.
She watched from the corner of her eye as Jason sidled up beside her, pretending as if like a child afraid to be punished again. It was all an act! It made this attractive twenty year old actually interesting, though she only barely dared to admit it to herself.
*
I can’t believe Dad is hiring help. I mean, I understand why. I guess he’s right, it’s a lot of work for just one person to do.
But I know what his deal is. He thinks it’s a lot of work for just one *girl* to do. That’s what I take issue with.
I can do the fucking work. I’ve been helping out around the farm my whole life. I know what I’m doing. I can drive the tractor. I can use every tool. And they’re only gone for a week! It’s not that long!
Still… I guess I don’t mind that he hired help. It will make it easier for me, definitely. He’s coming by today as well. Can you believe that? Today! He must have had this whole thing planned out a long time ago.
Stop seething, Pamela.
Stop brewing, Pamela.
That’s what Mum would say. She would then show me how to do her breathing exercises that she’s always doing.
That she never bothered to ask why she has to do them confuses me.
I guess that’s family life, right?
I mean, is there anybody out there that doesn’t have a fucked up family? Is there anybody out there who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘family drama’, or translated into their own language?
My guess is not.
Why are the people closest to us always the ones that infuriate us the most?
I guess it’s just part of life.
Anyway, I’m starting to feel a bit pathetic with all this bitching and moaning. Mum’s right, I really need to loosen up.
I don’t know why I get so defensive all the time. She says I over-compensate. I say she’s been reading too many self-help books, but what do I know? I’m just an innocent twenty-four year old country gal with no life who lives with her parents, and who works on a farm…
…
…
Okay, I’m depressing myself. Time to stop writing.
Pamela Johnson – the girl nobody knows.
*
CHAPTER TWO
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Emily said, her hand above her brow shielding her eyes from the rays of the rising sun. The morning light danced along the surface of the Aegean Sea, and behind her the bright yellow-dotted coastline of Piraeus seemed to shimmer in a haze as it fell away.
“Nice and warm, too,” Jason commented. Emily looked at him and was half-startled to find him shirtless. She was forced to admit to herself that the boy had a great body. He was lean in all the right places.
“Do you have to do that, Jason?”
“Do what?”
“Be half-naked.”
“Why?”
Emily gestured around the ship that would take them to Crete. It wasn’t a large passenger liner, and certainly didn’t give off the impression that it was a cruise ship meant for lounging around.
“What?” Jason asked.
“Do you see anybody else with their shirt off?”
“No.”
“Have you ever heard of the expression ‘when in Rome’?”
“But we’re in Greece.”
“Okay,” Emily said, nodding and looking back out at the receding coastline. She pinched her brow, and laughed.
Jason leaned against the railing next to her, an
d though she tried not to, she eventually did steal a glance at him. Big shoulders, a flat, defined stomach, and nicely proportioned chest… and that Adonis belt…
Stop it! Emily chided herself. Not only was this the big boss’ son, he was also just a boy, barely north of twenty and all of eighteen in mind. He was over-confident, enjoyed acting stupid, and probably knew damn well that he was attractive, and not just in general, but to her.
“You know, Jason, I actually find you quite annoying.”
He feigned shock. “I had no idea!”
“When we get there, I want you to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Emily sighed, walking away.
“I’m going to go lie down on the sunbathing deck.”
Emily stopped and turned. “There’s a sunbathing deck?”
“Yes. Well, I think so. It’s full of deck-chairs and other people half-naked like me. Not the women, though.” He pursed his lips. “Which is disappointing. Anyway, they really get wicked tans here.”
“Oh,” Emily said, instinctively looking up.
“You can’t see it from here, Ms. Worthington. It’s aft.”
“Aft.”
“Back of the boat.” He clicked his fingers. “Coming?”
Emily nodded. Jason was somehow always surprising. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
He smiled broadly at her, and the dimples in his cheeks brought his whole face to life. “Good!”
*
“I can’t believe we had to pay to use these chairs,” Emily griped.
“You don’t do much traveling, do you?” Jason leaned over from his adjacent sun chair and slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. He looked serious, his jawline a hard line against his neck.
“Actually, I do.”
“I meant recreationally, not for work.”
“Oh,” Emily chirped. “Then no, I guess not.”
“They charge you for everything everywhere, especially if you’re a tourist.” He rubbed his two fingers together. “It’s called money, and it makes the world go around.”
“Don’t be condescending, Jason. I prefer it when you act like an annoying brat.”
“It’s actually pretty nice, isn’t it?” Jason said, shifting back into his sun chair. He put his muscular arms behind his head, and looked up at the sky, all blue save for a few stray wispy strands of white. Emily’s eyes went to his clean-shaven armpits. So the boy was vain. But, damn if he didn’t look good! Like a male model, almost.
“It is,” she agreed, returning her orbs upward before once again stealing a sidelong glance at Jason. She hated to admit it, hated to even think it, but her attraction for this young man was growing. He was still quite obviously a part of the haves, whereas she was part of the have-nots. Emily hadn’t grown up rich or sheltered, and had been forced to work when she was young, and even now half her income went to supporting her retired mother, as well as her unemployed brother.
Initially, Jason had represented everything she didn’t like about her own upbringing. It was an inverted mirror, the visage reflected colored by bitterness and by resentment. He had doting parents, and a father who gave him everything he ever wanted. Her old man had left before she was born, and her mother, though loving, was too often too stern, her affection and warmth drained by the monotony and stresses of custodial work. Jason was also a single child, whereas she was the youngest, and it had seemed to her in youth that all attention was sent her older brother’s way.
And yet, spending just a couple of days with the big boss’ boy – albeit all in transit – she was starting to wonder if her estimation of him was off. Though he liked to play the part, with his expensive coffees, immaculate clothing, and liberal spending habits, there seemed to be another layer to him, as if all that put out in front was just a shield.
She wondered if by acting like everybody expected him to, he might be able to hold everybody at arm’s length, save himself from being a disappointment.
“Jason, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, Ms. Worthington.” He smirked.
“Are you afraid of what people think of you?”
“It doesn’t scare me, no.”
“Why do you do this whole thing?”
“What whole thing?”
“You know, your whole thing.”
“I don’t have a thing, Emily,” he said. It was the first time he’d used her first name. She leaned forward, looking into his sunglasses where she imagined his eyes would be, and not daring to let her gaze shift down toward his body, for fear of giving him that satisfaction because she knew he would use it.
“Yeah you do, Jason. Want to know my guess?”
“I thought you only employed your investigative journalism skills on monsters, and other paranormal phenomenon.” He put emphasis on the final word.
“I’m not investigating.”
“Ah, so what, are you about to channel your inner-psychologist?”
“Never mind,” Emily said, lying back down in her sun chair.
“Do you want to know something about my childhood?” Jason mocked.
“No.”
“Well, I’ll tell you something I bet you didn’t know.”
“Fine.”
“I’m part Greek.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “You don’t look it at all.”
“That’s not at all inappropriate, is it now? Because people of a certain place always look the same.”
“You know what I meant,” Emily said, bristling at his youthful university-student stance on political correctness.
“One sixteenth, actually, on my mother’s side. It’s in my hair, a recessive gene. Genes for dark hair always trump fairer colors. My parents both have light brown hair.”
“I didn’t know you knew anything about genes, Jason. Or about anything at all.”
“I know bits and pieces,” he said. “Nothing compared to you, of course. That’s why you’re my teacher.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, any family in Greece”
“No, we emigrated a long time ago, and since then the blood has just been diluted. But I mean, technically, I’m a part Greek.”
“Know any Greek?”
“Not one bit,” he said, laughing. “Typical, huh? You speak other languages?”
“Yes, I do. French I speak fluently, and Japanese passably.”
“Japanese?”
“I was interested as a child, but we couldn’t afford classes. So when I got my first job, I went to a tuition center.”
“Ever been to Japan?”
“No. It’s on my to-do list, but I’ve never found the time.”
“You spend all that time and money to learn a language, and then you don’t even go somewhere where you can use it.”
“It wouldn’t be very good, anyway. Probably more embarrassing than anything else.”
“You worry too much, Emily, you know that? You’ve got this confident go-getter outside shell, but on the inside, you just worry way too much. You need to relax.”
“I need to relax?” Emily asked, incredulous. “Now who’s channeling their inner-psychologist?”
“Hey,” Jason said, shrugging his shoulders. “Monkey see, monkey do.”
*
Oh… my… God!!!
The guy Dad hired? He is a *hottie*…
This is turning out better than expected. He came around today, and Dad showed him around. He’s really good looking and his name is Dallas. *swoons* I almost feel like I’m part of a trashy romance novel!
He’s really cute. Sharp face, angles everywhere. Mysterious eyes, too. Okay, I know, I’m not exactly good with words. I don’t how to explain his eyes. Like he’s got a million stories to tell. Like nothing surprises him. All confidence.
And his body.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Yeah. It’s good. It’s a nice body.
Sp
ending a week with him? I think I can handle that.
Dad told me he lives around the area, but I’ve never seen him before. He seems nice enough. He was polite, even held the door open for me which is rare ’round these parts. Shook my hand with a firm grip, and didn’t treat me like I was some kind of dainty, delicate flower.
Ooh, I *liked* him.
He seems my age or maybe a little older. Not sure. I don’t know if he went to college or not. He doesn’t really seem like the academic type. But he doesn’t seem like a dullard, either.
I watched him as Dad showed him around the farm, showed him how to do this and that. His t-shirt was so tight… and his jeans just hugged his ass. It was a nice ass, too. Usually when guys are really buff they get this tiny little ass, and that’s so boring. He had some meat on his.
Okay, I’m realizing that I’m writing about perving on some guy’s ass.
What can I say? I’m an ass girl.
Though thinking about it, I’ve never actually seen a really buff guy’s ass before, except on the internet.
*Ahem* I wonder if I should scribble that line out. Destroy all the evidence! If my parents found out, they certainly wouldn’t be pleased I was looking at porn online.
He called me Pam when he left. Nobody calls me Pam. I love that he called me Pam.
Stop it, Pam!
I won’t see him until the end of the week when Mum and Dad leave.
Can I make it that long?
Don’t be ridiculous.
*
Emily watched the coast of Crete grow across the horizon as the ferry honed in on Heraklion, the city where they would disembark.
She saw sandy beaches peppered with umbrellas, sparkling cliffs, and pale-colored buildings. It soon became obvious that the city was crowded; dense.
She rather liked the little over two days she had spent in Greece. This was her first visit, and while it wasn’t always easy to get around in English, they had for the most part managed. The people were friendly, although the friendliness itself was of the slightly abrasive sort, and the food was lovely and exotic, more than just the caricatures she found at home.
She wondered, idly, if she would ever holiday here. Or perhaps retire here. She knew that people did do that sort of thing, and her, as Jason put it: ‘worrying’ mind instantly went to wondering if the Greek people welcomed foreign retirees with all that much enthusiasm.
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