by R. R. Banks
The silence in the bungalow is a moment of respite. I don't care where any of the women are or what they'll think of me when they find out. I don't want to see anyone. I just want to get out of here.
I shove everything my luggage and in minutes, I'm gone.
Charlene
I peer around the corner from the restaurant into the lobby just in time to see Olivia run out. She has a handful of crumpled papers and even from a distance, I can see the blazing color on her face. Her jaw is set as she fights with herself not to cry, but I know her. I know as soon as she is outside she won't be able to keep back the tears. I can't help but smile. The reaction to the stills from the video Frank captured and the letter are well worth the cost of the camera I told him to destroy after our meeting last night, and every cent I paid him to sneak into the bungalow and plant the equipment. It is even worth the time I spent watching the video, so I could capture the stills and write out the letter. The times I had sneaked into locker rooms during my teenage years came in handy as I used the words and phrases I'd heard the guys use to detail Olivia's big night with Vincent.
I wasn’t positive she was actually going to go through with it. If she hadn't, I could have just told Frank to go back in and fetch the camera. No harm, no foul. But perfect, pristine princess Olivia let her virginal tiara slip, taking even more of what I wanted from Vincent. It was such a meaningful moment, but I'm sure Olivia was so overcome by the experience there are details she doesn't remember. Fortunately, I saw to it that there is plenty of lasting record of Olivia's deflowering, so she will never forget a moment of it.
The sound of the laughter and whispers coming from the groups of resort guests who stumbled on the pictures that morning are so delightful, I wish I could stay longer to watch them and bask in my victory. But I know I don't have the time. The diversion Frank made to lure Vincent back to his bungalow won’t keep him there forever. He would come through the lobby soon, and I didn't want him to see the displays. It wasn't that I wanted to protect his pride or stop him from being embarrassed. My revenge against him was a bit more nuanced than what I did to Olivia. The humiliation of having the night she lost her virginity broadcasted out among a crowd of strangers and the belief that it was done by Vincent as a cruel joke was enough for her. I know her well enough to know that could potentially destroy her.
Vincent, though, is different. I've seen his cockiness, and how cold and arrogant he can be. I wouldn't put it past him to feel a sense of pride about his conquest of the sweet and innocent Olivia. Even if he felt some embarrassment at seeing the pictures, it seems far more likely that he would fly into a rage and hunt down whoever was responsible.
Of all the things I'd like to be on the receiving end of from Vincent, that's not one of them.
Instead, I want to come at him from a different angle. I can tell he’s a man who thinks extremely highly of himself, and likely one who's not used to being told 'no.' Not by the people around him, and more specifically, not by women. It's a personality trait that spans all lines of class and status. It doesn't seem to matter who the man is or what his position is in life. If he has that perspective of himself, he's going to walk through life like some sort of phenomenon. The ideal example that privilege does not necessarily accompany money. This type of personality accompanies a man who really just needs to be knocked down a few pegs. The best way to do that is to go directly for what makes him feel out of control. As much as it pisses me off to even think about it, for Vincent, that thing is Olivia.
Getting pushed back by her at the bar, compounded by the reality that it was the second time in as many days that she had rejected him, was a shock to Vincent's system. It was obvious from the way he looked at her and the way he spoke to me in the restaurant, that he doesn't know how to handle a woman who doesn't appreciate what he has to offer. Being a woman who more than appreciates what Vincent has to offer, I don't understand it, either. But I'm thinking about it from the perspective of a woman who needs to get fucked. I see a body like a Roman statue and a nice hard cock going to waste. He sees it differently. He sees a challenge, an obstacle course he had to run to eventually get to the cookie at the end. Olivia is a reward to him, a sign of victory and that no matter what, he always gets what he wants.
Until now. Or, at least, that's what he's going to think. I walk into the lobby and up to the nearest column. I push my way through the people gathered there and snatch the pictures and letter off the wall. Turning to the group, I look pointedly at each.
"If a single one of you took pictures of this with your phone, you are to delete it immediately. The lawyers I have at my disposal for a mere traffic ticket are more powerful than the biggest bulldog you could put into a legal battle. If I catch wind of this being shared in any way, I will find you. And when I do, I will not only sue you to the fullest extent of the law for invasion of privacy, character assassination, and undue mental and emotional anguish. I will then find the crack in each of your businesses or personal lives, whatever that crack might be, and I will exploit it. Don't think for a second that I won’t."
They look sufficiently shaken and I move on to the next column, repeating the process and the speech. By the time Vincent comes in here, there won't be a single sign of this happening. He won't know what happened to Olivia or why she disappeared. Her vanishing without a single word will be a blow he won't be able to process. I don't have the slightest doubt Olivia will leave. She can't handle the humiliation or the heartache. That means that by the time he goes to look for her, she'll be gone, and he'll know what it feels like to be cast aside.
Vincent
"Have you seen Olivia?" I ask Laurel.
She looks up from the tablet on the desk in front of her.
"Just in general or recently?"
"Did Lisa make you watch a documentary on semantics last night?" I ask in frustration.
"What?"
"This morning, Laurel. Have you seen Olivia this morning? She was supposed to meet me here."
"What time?"
"I didn't really specify a time. I just said later."
"Well, you have to admit, that's pretty vague.”
I sigh. My eyes flicker back and forth across the lobby as I look for her. "OK. You're right. Maybe she just hasn't made it here yet. I'll go look for her."
"Have you told her yet?"
The lull in guests filtering through the lobby has ended and a wave of people are heading into the restaurant. I glare at her. Her discretion is starting to falter. Without a word, I turn away from her and walk out of the building, heading for the bungalow. I secured it the first night I approached Olivia, needing a place that wasn't my private quarters. If I have my way, though, I won't need to keep this room. I wrote Olivia a note before leaving this morning to ask her to meet me in the lobby, so I could tell her who I really am. I want to be honest with her, to tell her about myself and ask if she'll stay with me for the next week I plan to stay on Catalina. Then we can figure out what might exist for us beyond that.
I walk into the bungalow and realize it's completely quiet. The note and coffee are gone from the kitchen counter, which means Olivia has been up. I don't hear the shower or any movement coming from the bedroom. Checking each room, I see that she isn't there. Maybe she went back to her bungalow for something. The lingerie she put on last night was a total surprise to me. It's possible she didn't bring anything else with her and needed to go back in order to get dressed.
The thought of the lingerie makes me smile as I walk quickly toward her bungalow. It was simple and elegant, yet incredibly sexy. The body hiding under it was even more luscious than I could have imagined, and it had opened to me so sweetly, so perfectly. Having Olivia in my arms and feeling myself buried deep inside her was almost more than I could handle. I can't wait to get her alone again.
Hopping up onto the porch, I knock on the bungalow door. Nothing happens for a few seconds and I knock again. There is a shuffling sound inside and then the door op
ens. Sandra looks out at me through sleep-heavy eyes. Her hair is a mass of tangles and curls around her head, and remnants of makeup from the night before cling to her cheeks. This is the visual of someone who is not a morning person being pried out of bed far too few hours after she first stumbled into it. It seems to take a beat for her to register I am standing here. When she does, her eyes widen, and she scrambles to close her robe over the short t-shirt she's wearing.
"Vincent," she says, swiping her hair away from her face. "Hi. Sorry. I was, um, just getting ready to get into the shower."
Six hours from now.
"It's fine. Good morning. Can you tell Olivia I'd like to bring her to breakfast?"
Sandra looks at me strangely.
"Olivia?"
"Yes. She was supposed to meet me at the lobby, but I haven't seen her, so I figured I'd just come pick her up here."
"She isn't here."
"What?"
Sandra shakes her head.
"She didn't come back here last night as far as I know, and I haven't seen her this morning. I was, um, otherwise occupied last night and got back here about an hour ago."
"Well, it looks like we're having a party on the front porch."
I hear Charlene's voice and turn around to look at her. She's smiling at me from the walkway, her hands planted on her hips as she looks at us from behind dark sunglasses.
"Good morning, you two," she says. "What's going on?"
"Vincent's looking for Olivia," Sandra says.
"Then go get her," Charlene says.
Sandra shakes her head.
"She's not here."
Charlene's smile turns down slightly.
"What do you mean she's not here? Of course, she's here. Where else would she be?"
She walks up the steps and pushes past Sandra into the bungalow. We follow and watch her walk directly into the room I assume is Olivia's. She's in there for a few seconds before she returns, her expression distinctly less chipper.
"She's gone," she says.
I feel my heart sink.
"What do you mean she's gone?" Sandra asks.
Charlene shrugs.
"I don't know. I don’t know when she left, or what happened, but all her stuff is missing. Her clothes, her shoes, her makeup. None of it is in there."
Olivia left? How could do that without saying anything to me?
Charlene crosses the room and runs her hand across my back.
"I'm so sorry," she says. "I don't know what's gotten into her."
It sounds like she chose those words very carefully and I recoil from her touch. I stalk out of the bungalow and back toward the lobby.
Chapter Twelve
Vincent
People move out of my way as I prowl down the walkway and slam my hands against the glass door to the lobby. It swings open and I cross the polished marble floor to the front desk in long, infuriated strides. Laurel looks up at me with widened eyes, apparently startled by the expression on my face.
"When did she check out?" I ask.
"Olivia?"
"Yes, she's gone. I just went to her bungalow to find her, and she's gone, along with everything she brought. The women she was staying with didn't even realize she wasn't there. Fan-fucking-tastic friends."
"She didn't check out," Laurel says. "I told you earlier I haven't seen her today."
"So, she just left?" I ask. "No word, no note, nothing? She just wakes up this morning and decides she's done so she packs her shit and leaves?"
Laurels eyes lift to look over my shoulder and I know there must be a crowd of shocked guests forming behind me. I don't care. I don't care who hears or what they think of me. All I care about is that Olivia is missing, and I don't know where she went or why.
"I don't know what happened," Laurel says calmly. "I haven't seen her, and she didn't come to the desk to check out or let anyone know she was leaving. Probably because the rest of her group is still here. She's not going to check out for all of them if she's the only one leaving the island. Their scheduled departure date is tomorrow."
"Then why did she leave? She didn't say anything to me about leaving early."
"I don't know, Vincent. I'm sorry. If I knew anything else, you know I'd tell you. If nothing else than to shut your big, fucking mouth that's probably being recorded by about twenty cell phones right now and is going to be up on the internet before these people get to the pool."
She has lowered her voice and is now speaking to me through gritted teeth, her intense eyes piercing into mine as she forces me to regain control of myself. I know she's right. The last thing I need for the image of my resort is recordings of me ranting in the lobby. Even if people don't know who I am, a man screaming about a woman and throwing around obscenities rarely makes prospective guests lock in that vacation plan. It would be especially disastrous if my father happened to catch wind of this. To him, it would just be confirmation of his view of me and the life I chose. I don't have the patience to deal with any of the shit he'd give me for this.
I force myself to take a breath and clench my teeth together.
"Find her," I say.
"You find her," Laurel says. "Get on the fucking computer and look her up. Go talk to her friends. That Charlene woman was hanging around the lobby when I came in from the office. She seemed like she was in a rush, but maybe she saw her leave."
I glance behind me and then back at her.
"Figure out a way to fix this," I tell her. "I don't want a second of this showing up anywhere. Give them whatever it takes to make sure that those phones are wiped."
I don't wait for a response. I cut back through the lobby and head toward the bungalow where the women are staying. Something about what Laurel said is bothering me and I want to find out for myself.
Just as I hoped she would, Charlene opens the door when I knock. She smiles, and I see in her eyes this situation is delighting her.
"Why, Vincent, two times in one morning. You're spoiling me."
I don't have the patience to ignore her the way I have the last three weeks. I step up to her and look directly into her eyes.
"Where is she?" I ask.
"What do you mean where is she?" Charlene asks. "Who exactly are we talking about?"
"You know damn well who I'm talking about. Where is Olivia?"
"Well, I don't know specifically where she is right now."
"Let's go ahead and dispense with the stupid fucking word games right now," I say and watch as Charlene's expression darkens. "I know you were up in the main building this morning right around when Olivia would have left. Where did she go?"
Charlene crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me.
"I don't know where she went," she says. All the honey is gone from her voice. "I didn't see her leave and I certainly didn't carry her luggage for her. Why do you care, anyway? We are all leaving tomorrow."
"I care," I choke through gritted teeth.
The smile returns to Charlene's face, and she takes a hesitant step toward me. Her arms slide down her body as she reaches forward to place her hands on my chest.
"That's so sweet of you to worry about her," she says. "But she shouldn't be on your mind. She's gone now, probably run back to that rich boyfriend of hers. I'm right here. You look like you could use some distraction. Why don't you help me bid farewell to the island?"
Grabbing Charlene's wrists, I pry her hands off my chest and drop her arms back to her sides. Charlene's mouth falls open and she stumbles back a step as if I've pushed her.
"The third time isn't a charm," I tell her. "I'm not interested. I haven't been interested, and I'm not going to be interested. I want to know where Olivia went and why she left without telling me."
"Maybe she got all she wanted from you. She lives a pretty sheltered life and the man she's been dating for years has the sex appeal of a dead fish. What better way to enjoy a vacation than to get under something a bit warmer? But now that she has, she doesn't re
ally have any need for you anymore, does she? We all have lives, Vincent." She turns toward the door and pauses just long enough to look over her shoulder at me. "You should probably get one."
I step in front of her and Charlene gasps as she nearly rams into my chest.
"I know you think you're hot shit, Charlene, but one of these days you're going to find out your Daddy's money and name aren't nearly as important or powerful as you think they are."
The door to the bungalow opens and Tia steps out. She looks at us suspiciously.
"What's going on?" she asks.
"Do you have Olivia's phone number?" I ask.
"Of course, I do."
"Give it to me."
"Why? She left after spending the night with you. Doesn't that tell you something?"
"It tells me something is going on and I need to find out what it is. She left without saying anything to me and there's a serious problem with that. Charlene knows something she's not telling me, and it is pissing me the fuck off. I would rather walk away right now before I say or do something I shouldn't, so if you will just give me her number I can do that."
"Are you threatening me?" Charlene asks.
I turn an icy glare toward her.
"I don't threaten, Charlene. I don't need to. Threats are for people who need to prove themselves and only have brute force to do it."
Tia has her phone in her hand and holds it out to me. I use it to program Olivia's number into my own phone and hand Tia's back to her. Thanking her, I head down the walkway again. I leave my phone at my side until I'm far enough away from the bungalow that they can't see or hear me. Olivia's phone goes directly to voicemail. I hang up and call back.
