Quick & Dirty

by Whitley Cox

  To meet a millionaire who was as down-to-earth and easygoing as Kendra was such a welcome change, if not a tad weird at first. I kept expecting her to talk down to the wait staff or make a comment about the beach towels not being soft enough. Had I been with Xavier and his crew, complaints would have filled the air within our first five minutes of arriving on Moorea.

  We were just wandering through the lobby toward the restaurant—the girls had said they were hungry and wanted smoothies—when the sight of an all-too-familiar back and hair, and the indignant voice of a man I once loved stopped me in my tracks. My bottom lip nearly hit my toes and I had to peel my sunglasses off to make sure it was the real deal, that I wasn’t suddenly wearing virtual reality shades and seeing my worst nightmare.

  I wasn’t. It was him.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t just stay in Miss Ryan’s room,” he said, sneering at Janessa behind the desk. “She’s in the presidential suite, I’m her boyfriend, put me in her room. God, the staff here is absolutely insufferable. Where’s the manager? Where is Mr. McAllister?”

  Janessa’s eyes flicked up to me, and Xavier caught where she was looking. He spun around, his ugly snarl quickly morphing into a big but palpably fake smile.

  “Parker, darling, there you are!” He took a few steps toward me, but I backed away.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He gave me a dubious look, like I should know exactly why he was here and should have expected him to show up at some point. “I’m here for you, darling. Why else? Though this bitch behind the desk won’t put me in your room. Talk to her.”

  I shook my head. “She’s not a bitch. That is incredibly rude and cruel. You need to apologize, now! And no. You dumped me, remember? On New Year’s Eve, no less. You are not my boyfriend anymore. You need to go.” I pointed at the door, and that’s when I noticed my hand was trembling.

  Kendra’s hand fell to my back. “Everything okay?”

  “Mummy, we want smoothies,” Chloe said with a whine, pulling on the hem of her mother’s beach wrap.

  “Yes, baby. Just a moment. Parker, are you okay?”

  With a curt nod, I gave her a forced smile, my eyes not leaving Xavier. “I’m fine. Go. Take the girls.”

  Kendra’s eyes took in Xavier for a moment, wariness on her tanned face. But Chloe was threatening a tantrum, so she grabbed both the girls’ hands and whisked them off toward the restaurant.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

  He took another step forward. “Oh come now, darling. Let’s not play games. I’m here for you. And what a wonderful place to make up, don’t you think?” He reached for my waist, but I backed away another step and put my hands up.

  “You dumped me.”

  Rolling his eyes, he made a derisive snort. “Yes, well. I realized that I was wrong. Felicity was . . . a lapse in judgment, albeit a fun lapse in judgement. But she’s not who I want. I came here, to this billionaire’s haven, to win you back.” Amusement filled his eyes. He was enjoying this. Dear lord, the man was sick.

  “You told me I bored you. You called me a dead fish. You broke up with me in a restaurant full of your friends,” I enunciated.

  Another eye roll. “You’re being rather dramatic right now, darling.”

  “No, actually I’m not,” I said, shaking my head. “Xavier, you dumped me in a room full of over a hundred people, celebrities and socialites, people willing to ruin someone else just to get themselves ahead even if for a moment. I don’t even want to think about how many memes I was turned into.”

  His mouth jerked ever so slightly. Thank God I’d deleted my Twitter, Facebook and Instagram accounts. I just couldn’t handle getting constant messages and seeing my face pop up with some snide text overtop.

  “You told me I was cold and unadventurous.” I brought my voice down. “In bed. In front of everyone. While your mistress sat perched on your knee like a smoky-eyed ventriloquist dummy. What on earth makes you think I’ll take you back after you humiliated me like that?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Because you love me.”

  Shaking my head, I gnashed my molars together until an ache ran up the length of my jaw. “Loved,” I said coldly. “Emphasis on the past tense.” He rolled his eyes again. Apparently, I was boring him . . . again. “We’ll see. Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “No.

  “It’s just dinner, Parker. Unless you have other plans.” He chuckled as if the idea of me having things to do and friends to spend time with was a ludicrous notion. If we’d been back in New York, he would have been right. I kept people at arm’s length and didn’t have a lot of friends. If I wasn’t working, I was with Xavier. But things were different now. I was different, and I did have other plans. I had plans with Tate. But like hell was I going to stand there and argue with Xavier or give up Tate’s identity. It was none of Xavier’s business who I was spending time with.

  I nodded, but just barely. “Fine. Dinner. Seven o’clock at the Terrace Bistro on the far right of the property.” It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew he would hound me around the property until I gave in. This was the only way to state my case, get my closure and be rid of him once and for all. Giving him the best I-want-to-pop-your-head-off-with-my-mind-power glare, I walked past him to go and find Kendra.

  Tate still hadn’t gotten back from being out on the boat with Justin. He’d mentioned that they were going a ways away to a deep wreck located just off a reef and might not be back until late. So I spent the remainder of the afternoon hashing out the horror story of my love life with Kendra over smoothies as we watched the girls make sandcastles.

  She wasn’t sure me agreeing to have dinner with Xavier was such a good idea, but she also understood my desire for closure. I hadn’t seen him since the night he’d humiliated me. Although I had no desire to get back together with him, I couldn’t deny the pull I had toward the man. We’d been together for over three years, and I had loved him.

  Checking myself out in the mirror back in my villa, with a pointed toe and half-twist, I took in my appearance. I was wearing a simple but flattering turquoise halter maxi-dress. I let my hair do its thing, falling down just past my shoulders in waves of fire, and because I’d spent all day in the sun, I didn’t need any makeup besides a dab of lip gloss. I wasn’t trying to dress up for Xavier, but I also didn’t want to show up a train wreck and just reconfirm his decision to dump me.

  I arrived at the restaurant at 7:12, deliberately late. He was sitting on the patio with a rye and tonic in his hand and bowl of half-eaten bread in front of him. He never was one to wait for me, for anything. Despite his New England aristocracy upbringing, he didn’t bother standing up when I approached the table, didn’t pull my chair out for me, hardly even smiled.

  I thanked the waiter and ordered a glass of chardonnay before fixing Xavier with my steely glare. “So, how’s your room?”

  His nostrils flared. “Not as nice as yours, I’m sure.”

  “No, probably not,” I said with a thin-lipped smile.

  The waiter returned, and we placed our orders. I’d actually begun to enjoy Tate ordering for me. It wasn’t that he was controlling, he just knew the best dishes on the menu and wanted to make sure I enjoyed my meal to its fullest. I knew that if at any point I wanted to order for myself, he’d have no qualms. So when I had to actually open the menu and pick something, I was slightly disappointed.

  “Let’s stop this charade, shall we, darling?” Xavier said, taking a sip of his rye. “You’ll come back to me, you know you want to. It was all Felicity, she wanted me to end it with you.” Of course, typical Xavier, never taking responsibility for his own actions. He was forty-seven and had never accepted responsibility for a thing in his life. Even his eight-year-old son was more mature.

  “You mean the woman you were cheating on me with. One of the many.”

  I saw the waiter’s eyes bug just slightly as he poured my chardonnay for me, but his train
ed discretion had him tossing on the mask of indifference in a flash. Xavier rolled his eyes again. “We never had the conversation about whether or not this was an exclusive relationship, darling.”

  “I never realized we’d had to. I thought that after over three years, and the fact that when I was home, I practically lived with you, exclusivity was implied. My bad.”

  “Come now, you can’t honestly say you haven’t indulged in an international delight over the years on all your travels?”

  I shook my head. “Actually, I can say that.”

  He didn’t believe me, and the look on his face said as much.

  “How’d you get a room here anyway?” I asked. “I know how much a night costs.” I couldn’t stop the smug smile that coasted across my face. “And, well . . .”

  Xavier stiffened. The man hated being reminded of his “status”—how although, yes, he had money, he didn’t have as much as some. His lack of maturity and responsibility over the years had resulted in his younger brother, Rufus, assuming all control of the family company and slowly selling off Xavier’s shares right out from under him. Xavier was so bad with money; he hadn’t even noticed. And by the time it was done, there wasn’t much he could do. From there it had been easy for the board of directors to vote him out. If I were to guess, I’d say he maybe had five or six million to his name. Pocket change to the guests that frequented The Windward Hibiscus. To all the guests here, and a man like Tate, Xavier would be small potatoes. A pauper.

  “Billy Winters over at The Decadent Traveler hooked me up. I called him, made a ‘sizeable’ donation to his kid’s school or art camp or something, and he pulled some strings. Made some calls. And voila, here I am. Ready to kiss and make up and go and enjoy that glorious presidential suite of yours.”

  Fucking Billy Winters. Xavier had always held their friendship over my head. Said the only reason I got the job was because he and Billy were frat brothers. Of course he’d “made a call.” Fucking Billy Winters. Fucking Xavier. Just another reason why I no longer wanted to work there. I hated their buddy-buddy friendship and the power they thought they wielded over me.

  I shook my head. “You’re not stepping foot in my suite. I could have you removed from the property this minute if I wanted to. I’ve interviewed and spent time with Mr. McAllister. He knows me, he likes me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Really, Parker, I’m growing tired of this little song and dance. You’re taking me back. Now let’s just agree that I messed up, I shouldn’t have ended it, and then we can go and alert the front desk about my room change.”

  I was about to open my mouth when a deep and delicious voice behind me cut off my words at the knees.

  “And how is everything tonight, folks?”

  I glanced up to find Tate standing there, query and hurt in his eyes.

  Xavier shot him a bored look. “Just fine, thanks.”

  My bottom lip was between my teeth as my eyes darted between the two men. One curious and the other oblivious.

  “Actually, man, could you do me a solid and run and tell the front desk woman to move my room to Miss Ryan’s room? Have a bellhop or something pack my bags, would ya?”

  Tate swallowed and then stuck his hand out. “I’m sorry, and you are, sir?”

  Xavier stared at Tate’s outstretched hand. He was wondering why on earth a manager was offering to shake his hand. He had no idea who Tate was. Finally, with Tate not backing down, Xavier clasped his hand.

  “Xavier Rollins, Miss Ryan’s boyfriend. Now please, run along. We’re getting back together and have much to discuss.”

  Crimson filled Tate’s cheeks, only to continue traveling up into his hairline and down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. But he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t take his eyes off me.

  “Is that so?” he finally gritted. I could hear his teeth grinding together from where I sat.

  Xavier gave him a dubious look. “Yeah. Why are you asking me that? And why aren’t you doing as I asked? Do I need to speak to your supervisor?”

  I went to cut Xavier off. The way he was speaking to Tate was inexcusable. But he held up his hand. “Parker, please. I’m talking.” Tate’s face filled with rage and I had to wring my hands together to keep from decking Xavier right then and there. The oblivious moron turned back to Tate with a smug smile. “Perhaps Mr. McAllister would like to come meet me?”

  A muscle ticked strong and thick against Tate’s jaw. “No, I think Mr. McAllister is busy at the moment. Right away, Mr. Rollins, no need to speak with my supervisor. I’ll take care of you. My apologies.” He gave me one last look. “Miss Ryan.”

  I mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” But his face was an unreadable mask. He nodded once more to Xavier but didn’t smile, then spun on his heel and took off.

  “You were incredibly rude,” I snapped back. “There is no need to treat people like that, service industry or not. He’s still a person. They’re all still people.”

  He rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time. “Since when did you care about the ninety-nine percenters?”

  “I’ve always cared. I was one, don’t forget. And I’ve since realized that being with you, living with you and hanging out with all your snob friends has turned me into a snob as well. I don’t like it. I’m not getting back together with you, Xavier. I know you only came here because you wanted to experience a place you could never actually afford to come on your own. You’d use me, then dump me again the moment we got back to New York. Was this whole ruse Felicity’s idea? Tell me something, Xavier, if I’d been at some really nice but not nearly as elite hotel in Spain or Greece, would you have come for me?”

  His eyes grew fierce, and he bared his teeth at me in a sneer. “I made you what you are, don’t forget. Before me, you were living paycheck to paycheck, waiting tables in Brooklyn and trying to get your career going by writing articles for that shitty little online magazine. You owe me.”

  “You’re right.” I nodded. “I do. I owe you thanks. So, thank you. Thank you for using your contacts to hook me up with an interview with The Decadent Traveler, thank you for loving me . . . if you ever did, though I’m skeptical on that one. Thank you for letting me use your pool, and thank you for dumping me and helping me realize how fucking toxic you and your lifestyle are. I want nothing to do with either anymore, and I’m not sure I even want to work for The Decadent Traveler anymore. This may be my last piece. So, thank you, Xavier. I can honestly say I have never been happier than I am now.”

  His mouth hung open for just a moment, but then like the asshole he was, he had to have the last word. “I could ruin you, you know? Make you a social pariah. You’d be the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. No magazine will hire you when I get through making phone calls. What are you going to do? Go back to waitressing?” He scoffed as he sat back in his seat, tipping his drink back and draining it.

  “Maybe I’ll write a book,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll move home, so that I don’t have to deal with your people on the Upper East Side anymore. Maybe I’ll just start over somewhere where no one knows me. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. But one thing’s for damn sure . . .” I stood up and pushed my seat away with a screech. A few eyes around the restaurant took in my sudden movement. People had been eavesdropping anyway, you could always tell. “I’m done with you, Xavier. Done for good. Goodbye, Bubbles.” Then I took off through the restaurant in search of Tate.

  I didn’t have to look far. He was standing behind a palm tree, just out view, but well within earshot. A giant smile was plastered on his face. His eyes snagged mine, and without saying a word, we fell in line at a brisk pace, his hand falling to the small of my back as we made to leave the restaurant.

  “You’re schlepping it with hotel staff?”

  Oh, fuck!

  We stopped in our tracks to find Xavier behind us, a tad out of breath. Had he actually run to catch up?

  “Wow, you really have changed. Best way to get over a millionaire is u
nder a . . .” he paused. “Sorry, how much do you make?” Snide laughter filled his tone as his eyes raked Tate from head to toe. Tate was dressed down after his day of diving in a white hotel logoed polo shirt and khaki shorts, and when I scrutinized him closer, he had the outline of the scuba mask still around his eyes. He looked like a sexy beach bum with chin scruff, wild salt-filled and windswept hair and a righteous tan. Not the enigmatic billionaire real estate mogul who owned this resort and nearly a dozen others.

  A wide grin flashed across the planes of Tate’s handsome face as he shoved out his hand again. Xavier glared at it in disdain but also building confusion. He took it because prep school had trained him to do so. His quick inhale told me Tate was gripping his hand just a tad too hard.

  “I’m Ta—”

  But I cut him off; he was just about to blow his cover, and as much it meant to me that he would do that, I wouldn’t let him. Xavier didn’t deserve to meet Tate McAllister.

  “This is Taylor Wilson,” I said. “And so what if he is a manager? I’m not slumming. He’s ten times the man you could ever be. Money or no money. And . . .” I looked back up at Tate and rested my hand on his chest, “and he’s made me realize that the only dead fish in yours and my relationship, Xavier, was you. I’m crazy adventurous, you just didn’t bother to ask.”

  I reached for Tate’s hand and turned us both around. His smile was a mile wide. I caught him nodding at an enormous man in the corner dressed all in black with Morpheus shades and a FBI ear-thingy.

  “Come on, baby,” I said, tugging harder on Tate’s hand, “let’s go.”

  I didn’t bother to look back, even though I would have loved to. But the sound of Xavier’s protestations as security accompanied him out of the restaurant and eventually out of the hotel was music to my ears.

  We practically sprinted back to my villa. Tate tackled me before we even got to the entranceway and started peeling my clothes off like a starved dog might go at a steak bone, before the door was even fully shut. He ravished me. Brought my body to orgasm after orgasm until I was afraid I’d black out from the pleasure and not wake up until the following week.