by Kylie Parker
“Thank you,” she chirps, flashing me a bright-eyed look. I dismiss them with a nod, and return to the bench. I’m not interested in socializing with them or anyone else for that matter. I just want to be alone with my thoughts. I ease my back against the wall, my gaze returning to the brilliant harbor lights. At that moment, I catch something else, out of the corner of my eye: Two, long legs in a denim miniskirt on my right.
“My friend and I have made a bet,” she informs me. “I think you look so sad because of a woman. She thinks you lost a loved one recently. Which one is it?”
“You and your friend should mind your own business,” I mutter, unwilling to play her game. “Please, leave me alone.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that,” she says, her voice lowering to a much softer tone. “We’ve been watching for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. You’re distracted. I can tell by the look in your eyes. And, uh…” she pauses. “You proved it by taking our picture. We could have taken a selfie.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, pressing my lips together. “Will you go away if I answer your question?”
“Cross my heart,” she replies, making the ritual gesture.
“It’s a woman,” I state, putting some force in my voice, “a nasty, cold-hearted woman.”
“Thank you,” she gives a nod of appreciation. “Look, I know this is a bad time. But, I’ll be here tomorrow night if you want to talk about it. Same time, okay?”
“Alright,” I say, my own voice but a whisper.
Sure, and I’m the pope.
I do mean to scoff at her. We don’t even know each other’s names, and she has just offered to hear me out. What kind of person does that? Still, I do no such thing. I choose to let her and her friend walk away. I’m in no mood for an argument, let alone one that seems pointless. I have nothing against that girl. She’s not the one to blame for my poor psychological condition. I can’t blame anyone else for Laura’s act of betrayal.
7
Ray
I check the time on the dashboard as I draw near my hotel. The time it reads fills my heart with hope. It’s 10:40pm. Michael and Dean surely must have gone out. I’m going to have the suite all to myself, without having to disclose the events of that morning. All the same, when I walk through the door, my hope is shattered into a million pieces. They are both sitting out on the balcony at the table. Six, empty beer bottles litter the table, and there’s also a portable refrigerator between their chairs.
“Hey!” Michael exclaims, turning his head to me. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d come back tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, that was the plan,” I say with a slow nod, making my way towards them. “Things didn’t work out as I expected. You won’t believe who I ran into.”
“Rihanna?” Dean teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I wish,” I sigh, pulling a chair out from the table: “Laura and Natalie.”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Dean snorts with amusement, pushing me to the side.
“You’re kidding, right?” Michael cocks an eyebrow as I seat myself.
“No, I’m not,” I shake my head sideways, clenching my jaw. “I went to this nice, beautiful beach down south, and there they were. Laura even called it a ‘sign.’ Damn…” I whisper on an exhale. “Of all the goddamn people…”
“That’s bullshit,” Dean interjects and speaks his mind, his sarcastic smile vanishing. “It can’t be coincidence, man. She planned this; there’s no other explanation for it.”
“I don’t know,” I shrug my shoulders, leaning my elbows on the table.
“I’m with Dean on this one,” Michael declares, reaching down to fish into the refrigerator. “Here,” he goes on, setting a beer bottle down in front of me. “Think about it. She’s rich; connected. It would be easy for her to find out where we were going.”
“She had two years to reconnect with me in New York,” I tell him, staring into the void. “Why didn’t she?”
“Because she knew she didn’t stand a chance of getting back together with you,” Michael retorts, lifting his beer up to his mouth. “There’s just too much memory in New York. So, she found out where we were going, and followed us here. She must have thought something like: ‘We’ll be in a foreign country, where nothing reminds him of the past. Plus, he’ll be more relaxed. It’ll be easier for him to give us chance.’”
“Nice theory,” I comment, a touch of irony in my tone.
“It makes perfect sense if you ask me,” Dean interjects, his voice stiff. “So, what did you do?”
“I hugged her, kissed her, and then I fucked her brains out in her hotel room,” I respond with sarcasm dripping off my tongue. “What do you think I did? Thank God we were in a public place. I don’t know what I would have done if were anywhere more private.”
“Well, one thing hasn’t changed since you guys were dating,” Michael points out, holding his index finger in the air.
“What’s that?”
“She’s still the only person in the world who can piss you off,” he explains, bringing a bitter smile to my face.
“Forget about her, man,” Dean advises, patting me on the back. “You’re a lot better off without her.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I remark. “I don’t even want to go back to that beach. I’m afraid I’m going to run into her again. Anyway, I thought the suite would be empty. Why did you guys stay in tonight?”
“Actually, we came back twenty minutes ago,” Michael claims, shifting his gaze to Dean. “Our boy here insisted we go on a road trip to Chania: on bikes.”
“And you were surprised?” I wonder, flashing him a sardonic smile.
“Not really,” he returns the smile. “It’s just that he cost me a date with a girl I met last night.”
“You mean ‘fucked’ last night,” Dean corrects him. “Guitar man hooked up. He told me all about it this morning.”
“You dog!” I cheer with a grin. “You didn’t waste any time, did you? How was she? Does she have big knockers?”
“Oh, she sure does,” Michael winks at me. “She’s tall and blonde. She’s got this amazing, smoky voice. Everything happened pretty fast.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear one of us got laid,” I groan, bringing my gaze back to the sea. “I’m not even going to try and find anyone. I need a couple of days to clear my head.”
“What if Laura comes through the door?” For a moment, I believe that Dean is joking again. Yet, when I turn to him, the stiff look on his face doesn’t allow me any room for doubt. “It’s going to take another two days to clear your head?”
“What makes you think she’ll try to pull such a stunt?” I address him in a calm tone.
“Dude, she followed you here all the way from the States!” Dean continues, slamming his hand onto the table. “How far away is that beach where you guys met today? Sixty miles?”
“Fifty,” I say on an exhale, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Exactly!” Dean gives an emphatic nod. “She knows where we live. All she’s got to do is get here.”
“Then let’s book another hotel,” I suggest, glancing at him first and then Michael.
“That’s not going to happen,” Michael says, tapping his fingers on the railing. “First of all, we’ll lose the advance we’ve put up on this one. Secondly, I like this place a little too much. Finding something that’s just as good is going to take time. And thirdly? Come on, Ray. Do you really want to go somewhere else because you’re afraid she’ll come over? Where’s your heart?”
“And your balls?” adds Dean, before I get a chance to respond to my other friend’s rant.
“All right, we’re staying right here,” I announce, folding my arms behind my head. “Laura’s done enough damage for one day. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of moving us out. If she does drop by, I’ll just confront her.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Michael nods in appraisal.
“Yeah, that’s the s
pirit,” smiles Dean, curling his fingers into a fist. I wish I could insist, but I doubt that trying to change their minds will lead to anything good. It wasn’t just that neither of them was willing to start searching for other accommodations. Both Michael and Dean wanted me to be brave about this. Going somewhere else wasn’t brave. It was cowardly. I just hope that Laura gives up this insane pursuit. Otherwise, we’re going to draw some serious attention to ourselves, for all the wrong reasons. I was able to force some restraint this morning, but I have no idea if I can control my temper, should we cross paths again.
8
Stacy
“He’s not coming.”
Emily’s words have been swirling in my mind since last night. In her mind, the “puppy” we met at the harbor is too broken to consider even meeting with me. The baggage he’s got will hold him back. To be honest, I can’t blame her for calling him that. The poor guy looked like he had been through hell. Instead of making eye contact with me, he preferred to gaze upon the sea or the harbor lights. And that’s why I want him to come. No man has ever treated me like that. I’m not mad at him for ignoring me, but I believe I can dazzle him, just as I did with Michael.
Ah, Michael… The text I got from him yesterday morning effectively destroyed my mood, along with any plans of another, hot night with him. Our passionate encounter had left me craving for more, but his lame excuse made me roll my eyes.
“My buddy wants to go on a road trip to Chania. It’s about a hundred miles west. Sorry, I can’t make it today.”
Well, don’t let me hold you up. Go discover a new place. Go act like a boy. Isn’t that what most grown men do? Disregard everything to satisfy their whims, once they’ve taken what they wanted? Now, I regret coming on to him like that. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so forward. Still, I had my reasons for doing so. I have baggage as well, and because of that, I hadn’t been with a man in almost a year. This dry spell had been driving me crazy. It was one of the key factors that shaped my decision to go on a vacation in Europe and not the States. I meant to go wild, and I couldn’t do that in my own country. Okay, the odds of someone finding out were very small, but I didn’t want to take that chance.
I opt for a tight mini dress that accentuates my curves and matching heels. Pressed cleavage has helped me out in the past. I’m confident it will do it again. Impressing this handsome man is my number one priority. I have to deal with Emily’s mockery while I’m getting ready, but she is just being her usual, charming self. I’m not going to let anything she says discourage me from trying to look phenomenal.
Just after sundown, I’m strolling up the pavement that separates the harbor from the coastal road. Some cars are honking as they go by, sending my confidence sky-high. I can’t understand what the locals are saying, but it doesn’t matter. The cars horns’ honking, and the fact that the men are slowing down and talking to me, is enough. I smile to myself and keep my silence. I’m glad that I’ve drawn their attention, but there’s only one man I’m interested in tonight. With my gaze fixed on the Venetian castle, I strut past the iron gate outside the breakwater.
Please be here, mystery man. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you shouldn’t live in the past.
With the wonderful scent of the sea storming into my nostrils, I’m heading closer to the bench where I left him last night. But, almost immediately I discover that I have made a mistake. The people that are passing me by are casually dressed. Most of them are in shorts, jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. Some even stare at me, surprise written all over their faces.
God, I’ve been such an idiot. I’m in a clubbing outfit, and I don’t even know if the guy I’ve dressed up for will show up; bad mistake, Stacy.
I lengthen my strides and leave the castle behind me. I want to get this over with as fast as possible. Moments afterwards, I see a tall, athletic man, standing close to the edge of the breakwater, hands in his pockets as he gazes out over the sea. His short, light-brown hair and the same, sad look in his eyes leave me no doubt. He is here. A wave of relief washes over me as I halt near him.
“Hi there,” I murmur, struggling to hide my smile. “My friend didn’t think you’d make it.”
“I’m not here to talk about my past,” he states, stealing a glance down at me. “I don’t like to discuss the things I’ve done with strangers. No offense.”
“None taken,” I assure, shaking my head. “I’m Stacy, by the way.”
“Ray Carlton,” he introduces himself, turning to face me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I utter, tipping my head down in a polite gesture. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you come here?” I pose my question, looking deep up into his dark-green eyes. “You don’t want to talk about your past. I respect that, but…”
“I’m just looking for a distraction,” Ray interrupts, his baritone coming out slower. “Do you think you can help me with that?”
“I can try,” I reply, my lips curling into a polite smile. “I saw a club about half a mile west of here on my way over. What do you say?”
“After you,” he urges, gesturing forward.
“So…” I suck in a deep breath. “What do you do back home? I’m an interior designer.”
“I’m a realtor,” Ray croaks. “It’s not as lucrative as people think. It pays the bills, though, not to mention I get to meet new people almost every day.”
“I like that part about my job, too,” I confess. “But, it’s not always pleasant if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do,” he says, giving a quick chuckle. “I’ve been doing this job for more than ten years. Sometimes I wonder if people enjoy getting me to jump through hoops, or if they’re just idiots who like to waste my time. Three years ago, somebody wanted to buy a house up in North Haven, a fancy New York suburb. We agreed on the price and he even gave me an advance. Two days later, I drove him and his wife to the property. She loved it, but on our way out of the front yard, a neighbor told her not to buy it. There was a rumor about there being an Indian burial ground underneath it. I tried to explain to her that it was impossible, because Indian burial grounds were just too massive, but she freaked out. She suggested we dug up the front lawn. Of course, the owner said ‘no,’ and the deal went south.”
“Talk about stupid,” I giggle. “Well, I’ve had to deal with a few, weird clients, too. Once, this lady wanted to decorate her living room with Chinese porcelain. This type of porcelain is sold in sets and it’s pretty expensive. Anyway, I showed her a couple of brochures, but then, she wanted me to order three separate sets so she could try them out. I told her I couldn’t do that without billing her for all of them. She got mad at me for such a requirement…” I laugh as the horn of a boat rises above my voice. “I never saw her again.”
“Yeah, people tend to think everything’s easy when it comes to their own convenience,” Ray speaks, the rising nerve in his voice indicating that he likes our little conversation.
“Does Mr. Carlton know how to dance?” I wonder, my tone playful as I gaze up at him.
“Look at me,” he smiles, thrusting his arms out to the side. “Does this look like the body of someone who knows how to dance?”
No, it’s the body of an athletic stud, not a skinny dancer.
That’s what I wish to tell him, but I can’t. It’s not the public place we’re in that worries me. I can sense his vulnerability, and vulnerable people can be very unpredictable.
“Nope,” I chirp. “You’ve got nice, broad shoulders. You’re too masculine to be a dancer.”
“Thanks,” he nods as we walk past the gate of the breakwater. “I’m sure you’ve heard this a hundred times before, but you look fantastic.”
Does he like me? Check.
The main question has been answered, and I love that answer. It had been on my mind for almost a day, but now that we have established that, the pup and I can finally take this to a whole new
level. As I cast him a warm glance, I discover that the sadness that drew me to him last night has disappeared. In its stead is a peace that makes my heart flutter. I already have an effect on him. It’s up to me to make that effect even bigger.
We turn right and onto the sidewalk, not speaking any further. Cars are going by, rolling past the large tavern on the right. A mix of scents flows into my nostrils: grilled meat, french fries, tomatoes and olive oil. Roaring laughter rises above the noise of the traffic.
“Man, look at that,” Ray utters, a happy smile bursting upon his lips, his gaze roaming across the tables. “That’s what I call ‘relaxation.’ I’d kill to have some of this atmosphere back home.”
“It’s a tourist resort,” I remind him. “Did you expect anything else?”
“No, but…” he pauses. “The locals’ attitude is pretty much the same, even when they’re swamped. I stopped by a bar last night. The place was packed out. The owner himself was the bartender. I talked to him for about ten minutes, asked him a few questions. He was polite; he kept smiling the whole time. I doubt I’d get the same treatment in New York.”
“Yeah, he’d probably say something like: ‘Are you going to order somethin’?” I tell him, tucking tendrils of my hair behind my ear.
“That sense of urgency is probably the only thing I don’t like about my city,” Ray admits, locking his gaze with mine. “I just hate seeing people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. You don’t get that around here.”
“You sound like you’re falling in love with this place,” I conclude, my tone playful.
“I don’t know, maybe I am,” his response comes fast, perhaps faster than I anticipated. After all, I had asked something personal, but he had no problem confessing it. “But I’m coming back here next year, that’s for sure.”
You are and you just don’t know it yet. You’re forward; I like that.
