by Lina Langley
Paul wobbled, but took a step forward. After a little while, they were finally at the door, Dallas reaching for his master key in his back pocket. He rarely used it on any of the guest rooms when they were occupied, unless he absolutely had to, but it was also the key that let him into his own bedroom.
Paul looked at him and smiled. “You can just walk into my room whenever you want?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“What if I want you to?”
“You have guests.”
“He’s just a friend.”
Dallas rolled his eyes once more. He hated that he was instantly relieved. He hated that he felt like Paul had just told him some amazing news.
Why should he care about Paul picking up some drunk guy? He took a deep breath. “Blond doesn’t suit you.”
“I never thought so.”
Dallas helped him sit down on the edge of the bed and smiled down at him. “Eros is coming with your friend in a minute.”
“Eros? Like the love god?”
“Yup. I’m going to bed.”
“Thank you for everything, Dallas. Seriously.”
“Yup.”
“Ice cream tomorrow?”
Dallas rolled his eyes.
“C’mon. Please,” Paul said. He was still holding on to Dallas’ sleeve and he didn’t think that he was going to let him go unless he did something. He was hammered, so Dallas didn’t think that he would remember this the next morning, and even if he did, he would probably think that he was just acting foolish. “One hour of your time.”
Dallas smiled. “Fine. But only if you tell me your real name.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No, now.”
“What if you stop liking me?”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s Simon.”
Dallas looked him up and down. “That kind of suits you better than Paul.”
Simon chuckled. “Thanks. I think so too.”
Then he flopped down on the bed, his eyes closed, his clothes still on, and Dallas held the door open for Eros as he arrived with Bastian.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dallas woke up too early, without the sound of his alarm.
He hadn’t slept very well. The knocking around downstairs wasn’t helping him, either, but most of the time, even when his guests were loud, he didn’t care. He did care, though, and he had started not to believe Paul—Simon, he guessed—about Bastian being just a friend.
On the other hand, even if he wasn’t, it was none of his goddamn business. He got dressed, went downstairs and decided to focus on breakfast service instead. He had been planning on doing something a little more involved, but he wasn't feeling up to it. He decided he would do raspberry stuffed French toast, because French toast was easy, a fruit compote on the side, and spinach and brie omelettes to order with a side of bacon.
Both of those were easy things to cook that sounded way fancier than they were. Every sound in the kitchen was irritating him and he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
He had nowhere to go, he just didn’t want to be there. In the kitchen, in the inn, in the city.
Maybe he would go across the bridge and go to Sunrise Sands.
Shandra had insisted that he have a physical menu, but if he had, he wouldn’t be able to change his mind on a whim, and the very idea of that annoyed him.
He liked that he could decide how much work he felt like doing in the morning. He might do cream cheese stuffed mushroom bites, later, if he felt up to it. His guests didn’t seem to expect appetizers, but he thought that sending omelettes out without anything other than bread was a bit shitty. He could have made a biscuit or a cake but he didn’t feel up to baking.
He started to get his supplies out when he heard someone knock on the glass door. He must have forgotten to close the dining room when he was on his way to the kitchen, something which he usually never forgot to do.
Standing in front of the glass door was Paul—fuck, Simon. Dallas had to remember that his name was Simon.
He looked terrible. There were circles under his eyes, his lips were dry and his skin was pale even though the dining room was dark. Dallas took a step forward and opened the door.
“Mr. Starr.”
Simon closed his eyes. “I came to apologize.”
“I’m preparing for service.”
“You weren’t preparing this early yesterday.”
Dallas cocked his head, his eyes narrowing.
“Sorry, I’m not watching you or anything. I’m just observant.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t come here to bother you. I don’t need anything, just a minute.”
Dallas raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“I just—I wanted to apologize. Last night, well, it’s kind of hazy, but I’m pretty sure I was bang out of order.”
Dallas snickered. “Bang out of order?”
“How do you say it in American?”
Dallas shrugged. “How do you say what in American?”
Simon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was a real… jerkwad.”
Dallas bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh again. “That’s definitely a way to say that.”
“Thank you. Seriously.”
“It’s fine.”
“You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“It seemed a bit cruel to have a lifetime ban from Paradis. Those bouncers don’t mess around.”
Simon nodded. “Are we still doing ice cream?”
“I thought you wouldn’t remember that.”
“I grew up in Europe. I can handle my alcohol.”
Dallas raised his eyebrows.
Simon rolled his eyes. “Well, most of the time. Things have been a little weird for me lately. Please? It’s only one hour. Then you never have to think about me again.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Fine, then. I have the afternoon off.”
“Sweet. I need to sleep this off anyway.”
“Right. Is Bastian still in your room?”
Simon frowned. “Who?”
“The guy that you brought back with you. The one staying in your room?”
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. He was gone in the morning, I don’t really remember him.”
Dallas narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”
“I didn’t sleep with him, Dallas.”
“Whatever,” Dallas said. “I don’t care.”
“I’m not a slut.”
“I don’t care if you are.”
“I’m serious.”
“I still don’t care.”
“Fine,” Simon said, sighing again. “We can talk more about it over ice cream.”
Dallas was about to tell him that he wasn’t interested anymore, but part of him was sure that he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did. “Fine. One hour.”
“Right. One hour.”
***
Most of the time, Dallas hated going across the bridge to Sunrise Sands. It was a nice little town attached to the city across a long bridge. Unlike the city, it worked mostly entirely as a tourist town, functioning as little else.
Dallas thought there might be realtors there, but no actual businesses.
It had a bunch of inns and fancier hotels, a lot of restaurants and bars, and it was basically a water-locked horseshoe-shaped island. Without the bridge to San Leandre, no one would have ever even stepped foot on the island. Dallas always thought that he had enough of tourists in the city, but when he went to Sunrise Sands, he realized just how foolish he had been.
San Leandre was nothing.
Even though he worked in the hospitality business, going to the island meant seeing hundreds and hundreds of tourists roaming the street. Not drunk tourists, like everyone was along the boardwalk that The Butterfly Inn was on, but families with children and couples honeymooning.
“You don't seem like you're too happy.”
“I'm just really gl
ad you drove,” Dallas said. Paul—fuck, no, Simon, he had to stop thinking about him as Paul—had rented a small car for the day.
He had told Dallas that he was going to drive them to Sunrise Sands when they had seen each other in the lobby, and at first, Dallas had laughed in his face.
He had agreed to go for ice cream, not to go across the bridge.
But when he had seen that Simon looked a bit upset, he had decided to go along with it. He didn’t want to be heartless and he was a man of his word.
That meant that even though he didn't particularly want to cross the bridge, he needed to.
After all, it was only ice cream, and the reason they were going to Sunrise Sands in the first place was to check out The Waffle Spoon, a new ice cream place that already had gone viral due to its incredible baked creations. Apparently, putting popcorn in a cookies and creams ice cream was the height of ingenuity.
Dallas didn’t buy it, but he did like trying new food, and he wasn’t going to go by himself.
It didn't have to mean anything but ice cream with someone that wanted to show him some gratitude.
And, in truth he was curious about Simon, who turned out to be a surprisingly nice guy. They were having a perfectly normal conversation, talking about the weather and how many tourists were in town, not once mentioning the fact that Simon had given him $10,000 to stay at The Butterfly Inn.
“Parking here is a nightmare,” he said when he saw Simon’s questioning look.
“Valet’s a thing, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s expensive.”
Simon shrugged. Dallas looked him up and down, stopping to look at his watch—it was expensive, Dallas knew it was expensive, but it was understated and he had never been good with brands.
He was wearing a ring on his index finger. White gold or maybe silver, Dallas thought, but definitely expensive, with intricate patterning carved on it, but not big enough to be a class ring.
Dallas didn’t wear any jewelry. He was lucky if he managed to remember where his watch was. Simon pulled into a small spot and Dallas was tempted to compliment him on his parallel parking skills.
“No need for a valet after all.”
“How did you spot that?”
“I’m good at parking in small spaces.”
“Clearly.”
“Are you ready for ice cream?”
“You say that as if I should be worried about it.”
“Are you worried about it?”
“Now I am a little.”
“You’re funny,” Simon said, a smile on his face. “I can’t believe I haven’t noticed that about you.”
“There are lots of things you haven’t noticed about me.”
“That’s probably true. Let’s go?”
“Okay,” Dallas said. He tried to hold back a smile, but it was hard. “Let’s go.”
***
Soon enough, they were sitting in the ice cream parlor, each one with a humongous milkshake in front of them. It was going to take Dallas way more than an hour to get through it. He suspected that was part of Simon’s plan, someone that Dallas now realized was a lot smarter than he had first thought.
Then again, what kind of smart person spent that amount of money staying at The Butterfly Inn? Simon smiled at him and Dallas sighed. He supposed that if he was going to attempt to get any information out of Simon, this would be the time.
He knew that he was probably better off not knowing, but there were so many unanswered questions. If Simon walked out of the inn and Dallas’ life and he didn’t have any answers, Dallas knew that he would never be able to stop thinking about it, that the unresolved mystery of Paul Starr, real name Simon, would eat at him forever.
“You said I could ask you questions.”
Simon nodded, sticking the tiny spoon into the ice cream mountain and then licking the back of it instead of actually taking a bite. Dallas watched him. He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be charming, but Dallas was completely won over by it, even though it was so fucking stupid.
He needed to get a grip.
Simon—if his real name was even Simon—seemed like the kind of person that did everything in a calculated way, to get a certain reaction out of someone. And that someone just happened to be Dallas. He didn’t like that at all. If it had been anyone else, he would have run away from him. But the enigma, the mystery, was too compelling.
“Is your name really Simon?”
“Yes, it's really Simon. That's my second name, I have a lot. Dallas?”
Dallas smiled. “I don't have a middle name.”
“Well, that's okay. Dallas suits you.”
Dallas cocked his head. “Why?”
“I don't know. You're just so cute.”
“I didn’t realize that Dallas was a cute person name.”
Simon smiled. “Yeah, neither did I. Not until I met you.”
“Really?” Dallas said as he raised his eyebrows, a smile on his face. “Does that bullshit line ever work for you?”
Simon smiled back at him. “It has before. I had a feeling it wouldn't with you.”
Dallas rolled his eyes. “Of course it wouldn't work with me. It's a stupid line.”
“Hey, you'll hear no argument from me. I think it's a stupid line too. But I do think your name is nice and I do think it suits you.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Simon wrinkled his nose. “Shame. I thought it was working.”
Dallas chuckled, despite himself. “I have more questions.”
“I have more ice cream.”
“Where are you from?”
“Nowhere you have heard of. What about you?”
Dallas shrugged. “Here, I'm from here. Born here, raised here.”
Simon nodded. He finally grabbed a little bit of his ice cream and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Okay, this popcorn idea is genius. I take back everything I ever said about it being stupid.”
Dallas nodded. “It pains me to say it, but you’re right. The saltiness with the sweet… it’s to die for.”
“You like food.”
“It’s what I went to school for. Who doesn’t like food?”
Simon smiled. “So did you always know that you wanted to stay here?”
“I don't think I've always wanted to stay here. But it is what it is, and now that I have the inn, I have to stay here.”
“You didn’t buy it?”
“Nah,” Dallas replied, taking another spoonful of ice cream and making a satisfied sound. “This is amazing. No, my dad bought it.”
“I was going to say. You’re pretty young for a business owner.”
Dallas cocked his head.
“I meant for someone who owns a hotel on that boardwalk,” Simon clarified. “I was really surprised you took my money, I thought you would be rich.”
Dallas shrugged. “I mean, the hotel is not in dire financial straits or anything.”
“I wouldn’t think so, with your location.”
“Right,” Dallas said. “We're doing okay and we are turning a profit, but a bunch of developers want to buy it and I don't want to sell it.”
“Do you mind if I ask you why?”
“I mean, I’m asking you a bunch of questions. Seems fair.”
“Why don’t you want to sell it? You don't seem to be that into running it.”
Dallas sighed, shook his head and stuck another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth as he considered what to say. Even if Simon wasn’t being honest with him, nobody had asked him that before, and he thought that he would feel better if he talked about it. “I'm not. The inn was my dad's passion project, not mine. I always wanted to be a chef, but when my dad got sick, I had to stop going to culinary school and I had to go back to the inn to take care of him. The business too.”
“Did you have to move back from a different city?”
Dallas smiled. “No, same city. St. Lorenzo College.”
Simon whistled appreciatively. “That is a very
prestigious school, isn’t it?”
Dallas looked down at his ice cream. “I guess.”
“No, trust me. I don't know anything about schools for chefs, and I know that that one is prestigious. Do you know how I know that?”
Dallas shook his head.
“Because I know it exists,” Simon said.
Dallas chuckled quietly. “I guess that’s true.”
“You’re an amazing chef, by the way. You clearly didn’t need the program.”
Dallas shrugged. “The program only takes one year, I was almost done with it, but my dad didn’t want to tell me how sick he was. I learned a lot. Then I came home one weekend and we talked.”
“You’re an only child.”
“Yes.”
“Damn. That’s awful.”
“Thanks.”
“I might go back to school,” Dallas said. “One day. I doubt it. I’d have to start over. And I don’t even want to think about the inn.”
“You’d be a millionaire if you sold it.”
“I’d also be a bad son.”
Simon stared at him for a second, his expression unreadable to Dallas. “Right.”
“You’re not like, an undercover developer or anything, right?” The thought that he might have taken a down payment, as irrational as it was, settled like a heavy weight in his stomach.
“No,” Simon replied, a smile on his lips. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Not a developer.”
“Oh. Then what? You said you were famous.”
Simon looked away from him and exhaled, the grin still on his face. “Wow, I was very drunk, huh?”
“A little bit. So are you like a big soap star where you’re from?”
Simon laughed. “You know, it’s not that far off.”
“But you won’t tell me?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“Can I guess?”
Simon cocked his head. “You can try.”
“Director.”
“No.”
“Damn. In the movie business at all? Give me a hint.”
“No hints.”
“But you weren’t lying about being famous?”
“Unfortunately.”
Dallas exhaled heavily. “Oh good. You’re not like a hardcore drug dealer, then?”
Simon laughed. “What? No. Oh my god, no, not at all.”
