Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  The door suddenly flew open. “Not only is the apartment small, but the windows are open and we can hear everything people right outside are saying.” Claire stood at the door with her arms crossed, glaring accusingly at Paul. “What the hell does Rhees have to apologize for?”

  oOo

  “Rhees, are you sure this isn’t just part of his plan? Maybe he’s just playing along to—” Dobbs let Claire do all the talking, afraid Paul might make anything he said sound perverted, again.

  “I’m sure. I told you what happened.” Rhees glanced at Paul. He sat staring out the window, detached from the discussion. “He’s been the perfect gentleman and I don’t know how I would have gotten through all that mess with Mario, without him.”

  “Dobbs and I’ve been talking.” It wasn’t hard to imagine Dobbs and Claire spending hours talking about the recent events, and it made Rhees feel bad they’d found it necessary to hash out that sort of conversation because of her. “Dobbs may have been harboring a bit of resentment toward Paul for buying the shop out from under us. Hell, I’m still pissed about it! Dodger really screwed us over.”

  Paul suddenly decided to lend the conversation his full attention. He looked at Dobbs, shell-shocked to learn the new information.

  “Who’s Dodger?” Rhees asked, taking advantage of the silence.

  “The previous owner,” Paul answered quietly as Claire and Dobbs communicated some private message between them. “He’s dodged his own grave so many times with all his crazy, reckless stunts, people call him Dodger.” His eyes darted back to Claire and then Dobbs. “He never told me he’d agreed to sell you the shop.”

  “The man’s a certified lunatic,” Claire said with disgust.

  “We had an offer on the table, but Dodger wouldn’t sign it—said his word was gold.” Dobbs tried to laugh. “So I couldn’t understand how you just swooped in and took away our dream.”

  “It would have taken us another year to come up with the down payment,” Claire said. “But Dodger said we could manage the shop like it was our own until we came up with the money.”

  “I appreciate that you kept us on,” Dobbs continued. “You treat us well—almost like partners. You pay us more than a fair salary, so it isn’t justified I’d harbor resentment. It wasn’t a conscious effort.” Dobbs ran a hand over his smooth, bald head.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite the hand that’s been feeding me, but I’ve sat back the last three years and watched you get everything you want, like a spoiled kid. Everything comes so easy for you, and I didn’t think it was fair.” Dobbs gave Rhees a glance, but quickly looked away, like he was afraid someone would read more into it.

  Too late, Paul did. He worked his mouth a few times, assessing the situation. He caught Rhees watching him and he wondered if she could see the storm brewing inside. Knowing that she probably did helped him calm down enough to hold his tongue. He wondered how she knew him so well already.

  “And then, here comes little Rhees.” Apparently, Dobbs didn’t know when to shut up, Paul thought. “She’s so sweet, and she doesn’t want anything to do with you, in spite of how much you—”

  “It gave Dobbs a sense of satisfaction to see you finally want something so badly, and for once, you couldn’t have it.” Claire looked at Rhees as she finished the story for her husband. “Last night had more to do with losing the shop than what Dobbs thought you’d done to Rhees.”

  Paul stared at them, stunned. He wondered if Claire really believed what she’d just said. He thought he saw a flash of doubt—but she wanted to. Normally, he’d argue with them about things being easy for him, defend himself. Normally, he’d lose his temper and start voicing his rage. Normally, he’d fire their asses—

  Rhees jumped up and slid into his lap. She took his face between her hands and forced him to look at her, making a gentle shushing sound.

  Claire watched Paul’s eyes immediately melt from black ice to warm Caribbean blue as he consented to Rhees’ attempt to soothe him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, still locked on Rhees’ expression. He finally glanced down at the floor, resigned. “You’re right. I always get everything I want. I am a spoi—”

  “Don’t,” Rhees said, still comforting him. “Nothing just falls into your lap. You get what you want because you work for it. You’re intelligent, and you’re a hard, determined worker. You go after what you want and you don’t give up until you succeed. You don’t start what you’re not willing to finish—I heard someone say that once.” She smiled.

  They gazed at each other, and Claire watched as a million words passed between them, unspoken . . . and suddenly, she understood.

  “We’ll be back to work tomorrow,” she said to Paul. “That is, if you’ll take us back.”

  Dobbs shot Claire a surprised glance. She knew he’d be relieved. They’d spent too much time the last few hours discussing their options. They were leaning toward Malaysia or the Maldives, but she could tell, in spite of everything, he didn’t want to leave.

  Paul looked at Rhees one more time and sighed, resigning to the new and improved man Claire had noticed him trying to become.

  “The shop doesn’t run itself. I learned that this morning,” Paul said with a reserved chuckle, but then he nodded his head and seemed to genuinely speak the truth. “I appreciate all you do for the shop—for me.”

  Rhees leaped off Paul’s lap to give Claire a hug. “Thank goodness. I’m so sorry I’ve caused all this trouble, but I’m happy we’re going to be all right. I love you guys.”

  “Thank you,” Claire said to Paul while Rhees squeezed the life out of her.

  “I appreciate Dobbs’ help,” Paul said, locking eyes with Claire as an evil grin curved on his lips. “I guess I’m still stuck tolerating yours.”

  Claire considered the prospect of their ongoing feud, which reminded her of the reason Paul and Rhees had shown up in the first place. Her eyes narrowed as she and Paul held a staring contest.

  “You’d bloody well better take care of her,” Claire mouthed, pointing to Rhees, who still hadn’t let go.

  Paul returned a wide-eyed look, conveying to her he intended to try, but she couldn’t help but think he suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to worry for Rhees or laugh at what Paul had gotten himself into.

  Chapter 8

  Paul woke to find Rhees nestled up to him with her back to his front. He carefully rolled to snuggle a little closer. He softly kissed her shoulder and she moaned pleasurably. This was his absolute, favorite time of each day.

  There were ten to fifteen seconds every morning when he was awake—mostly—and she was asleep—mostly—where he could be affectionate, and she actually seemed to enjoy it without the cringe factor.

  Sometimes the guilt of taking advantage of her while she slept stung a little, and it usually made things uncomfortable for him for the few minutes following, but he loved the way she responded—before she had the chance to overthink, the way she had to overthink everything.

  “Paul?” she mumbled quietly.

  “Hmm?” He didn’t stop nuzzling her.

  “Did you just . . . lick my shoulder?”

  “Uh-hmm . . .” he murmured.

  She rolled over to look at him, now wide awake. Her expression surprised him. “That’s gross! You don’t think that’s gross?”

  He bit his grinning lip. His eyes narrowed and he moved in closer. “I would have no problem licking even grosser things than your shoulder.” He held her down and licked her face from her chin to her forehead while she squealed, horrified, and yet, she should have come to expect that type of thing from him by now.

  “One of these days, I might surprise you and return the favor. Then we’ll see just how funny you think it is.”

  “Don’t make promises y
ou can’t keep, Dani Girl.” He licked her again, but he couldn’t stop laughing, knowing how she thought licking her face was what he meant by licking grosser things than her shoulder. She was such a lovely, innocent, pure being, and reminding himself how much he liked her that way kept her safe—he hoped it would stay that way.

  He finally jumped out of bed. He’d learned his limits.

  “You don’t crawl out of your skin when I get all snuggly in the mornings.”

  She sat up on the bed, suddenly quiet. She watched him getting dressed with his back turned to her. “I’m sorry. You know that I wish I wasn’t like that. I think you handle my psychosis pretty well, though.”

  He grinned. He was trying, he really was. “I’m just saying there are those few seconds every morning when you don’t mind, no cringing, no recoiling, no shrinking away from me. I just wish you could do that when you’re awake. You know, let yourself go—relax and just enjoy . . . just once!” He turned around to face her, and she noticed his morning glory poking through his jeans. The look on her face registered shock for a split-second, but she fell back on the bed in a fit of laughter that caught him off guard.

  “What?” He looked down at himself. “I’m sorry. You know He has a mind of his own.” Paul chuckled. “But surprisingly, I’m keeping him in check. Can you give me a little credit here?”

  She shook her head as she continued to laugh hysterically. She finally got it under control and sat up again. “Did you just hear yourself?” She arched a brow and looked at him mockingly. “Just once?”

  He looked confused, and she giggled again.

  “I’m a virgin, Paul.” She could barely keep from bursting into another laughing fit. “Just once? The way I understand how it works, that’s all it takes.” That was it. She fell back and laughed again.

  He sat on the twin bed and chuckled too, but mostly because he loved hearing her laugh. He rarely got to see her this way, letting go, carefree.

  oOo

  The new boat finally arrived almost a week late due to bad weather, at least that’s the story the delivery crew gave. Paul threw a deck party that night to celebrate, the first since the most notorious party Paradise was now known for. He christened the boat, “Swell Dancer”, ignoring Rhees’ suggestions they find a different name.

  The next morning, the new boat set out on its maiden voyage. The bigger vessel accommodated more than twice the number of divers than the Porgy, so nearly every student at the shop sat in their respective spots, next to their gear, ready and excited to dive.

  Everyone loved the ease of getting in and out of the water on the roomier boat with two ladders, but when the time came to head back to the shop, the engine refused to start. Paul and Randy tinkered with the motor, but they finally had to radio for a tow.

  Two more emergency tows back to the shop and two more attempted fixes, they’d confirmed the new dive boat was a lemon. Paul had been on the phone for days, trying to contact the company where he purchased it, but got nothing but a runaround.

  “The biggest group we’ve ever had booked is coming in less than two weeks. Until then, we’ll manage with the Porgy as usual, but if we don’t get this piece of shit running—” Paul worked, hard, to control the storm brewing inside over being sold a boat with a faulty engine.

  “Piece of Ship. I like that name better,” Rhees said. For some reason, the new name made her uncomfortable. He supposed she didn’t like the idea he’d name his boat after her, which he had, but he wouldn’t admit it. It couldn’t have been too hard to figure out however, since he told her over and over how much he loved the way she danced.

  He also supposed she didn’t want him naming his boat after her because she expected their pretend relationship to fall apart someday, sooner rather than later. Who wouldn’t? All four people involved in the ruse, including himself, knew if it blew up, it’d be his fault. So far, he hadn’t even been tempted, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t screw up. The Nicole scare was proof enough of that.

  “I like that. It fits, anyway,” Paul said to Rhees as they, along with Claire and Dobbs, stood on the deck, watching the mechanic not really working on the boat. “I should take it back. Think the Porgy could tow it all the way back to Corpus Christi?” He laughed, though they could all tell he didn’t really think it was funny. He sighed irritably.

  “It could take months to get it replaced. We don’t have time.” Claire had been the one who’d so insistently nagged Paul to finally invest in a bigger boat. Everyone knew he wanted to eventually, but a large singles club from the States had inquired about reserving a dive trip with them, and Claire really wanted to book that group. The possibility of repeat and word-of-mouth business if they pulled it off was too great an opportunity to pass up. “You have to get it fixed. We can’t cancel on this group.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Paul stood, glaring at the mechanic, his arms crossed, his cheek twitching along with his mouth, a sure sign of irritation, which meant looming anger—possible temper—outburst. “The laws in this stupid country require me to use local labor. I can’t drive my own boats or bring in a fu—a real mechanic. As the only native mechanic on the island, Fred actually makes more money if he doesn’t get it running again. My boat has just become his steady day job.” Paul raised his voice. “Fred, you suck.”

  Rhees gasped and tried to throw her hand over his mouth. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

  Fred didn’t seem to hear them with his earphones on and his music playing too loud. The four of them had watched anxiously for days as Fred came late, took longer breaks than the time he actually worked on the engine, and left for lunch. When he returned, the afternoon followed the same pattern until he finally left for the day around three o’clock.

  “Hurt his feelings?” Paul asked incredulously. “Broken arms and legs hurt a whole lot more. He’d better get my boat running and soon.”

  Rhees locked arms with Paul and rested her head against his shoulder and immediately, it calmed him. He glanced down at her, wondering if she meant to do that, and figured she did. It had only been a little over three weeks since the start of their fake relationship, but he noticed more and more how she seemed to be tuning in to his moods—and managing to control them.

  It felt good to have her touch him. He wanted to touch back, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment. He’d learned it didn’t bother her to touch him, to initiate physical contact, but when he took it as a sign to push for more, she pulled away and he ended up back in the, look, but don’t touch, zone. He wanted a more physical relationship, but he settled for what she willingly gave. For now, he thought.

  “Some people do their own work, at night—when no one’s watching.” Dobbs let the suggestion sink in.

  Paul rubbed his forehead, understanding what Dobbs implied. “I’ve tinkered with engines, but I’m not a competent mechanic, not good enough for—”

  “Could be our only hope.”

  Paul nodded and then smiled. “This boat really does need a new name. Swell Dancer is too pretty for this clunker. It doesn’t fit anymore. She’s given me nothing but trouble since she got here.” He sounded so serious and everyone nodded in agreement. “I should have just named her Danarya.”

  Rhees only managed a pouty smile while the others broke into loud laughter at her expense.

  “Fitting,” Dobbs said to Paul with a wicked grin. “Since neither one of them are ever going to let you take her for a ride.”

  Claire slugged Dobbs’ arm, but it didn’t make him stop laughing. Paul glanced awkwardly at Rhees. She blushed, betraying her effort to act like a good sport.

  “So, life has given you two lemons. Too bad you don’t like lemonade,” Rhees said as she followed Claire to the office and Dobbs headed toward the deck.

  “On the contrary, I’ve acquired quite a taste for it, I’m afraid,” Paul said once
he was alone.

  oOo

  Claire and Rhees watched Paul horsing around with some of the other guys on the deck. He stuck out his tongue in a nasty gesture and Claire noticed Rhees grimace before she slinked back to the office.

  “Let me see your tongue,” Rhees said when Paul walked into the office later in the day.

  “What?” He chuckled. “I’ll show it to you for a kiss.”

  “Just let me see it.” She wasn’t in the mood to joke around.

  He stuck it out and wiggled it around, curious. She grimaced again, before running to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She twisted the lid off and poured a mouthful, swished it around and ran out of the office to spit it out into the water off the deck.

  “Rhees, what’s wrong?” Paul sounded concerned.

  “Nothing,” she said. She hung, bent over the edge of the deck, looking sick.

  Paul put his hand on her back and rubbed soothingly. “Are you sure? Are you ill? You don’t look so well.” She stiffened, and he removed his hand like he’d been bitten.

  “I’m fine,” she barked as she moved away from him.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “All right, just let me know when you’re, more fine, okay?”

  He finally walked off, obviously confused and worried about her, and Rhees walked back into the office looking upset.

  “Rhees, what’s wrong?” Claire asked after watching the whole thing. “And don’t try to convince me that you’re fine.”

  “Oh, Claire!” Rhees sighed. “I watched Paul wave his tongue around. It’s huge! I’m surprised it fits in his mouth.” She shook her head. “I never thought about it before. He likes to use that thing, but—blech!” She stuck her own tongue out and made a face.