by LeCoeur, Ami
"Denise! Come meet my friend Tony! And you be extra nice to him, he's my special friend!" The dark haired woman stepped back, giving the redhead room to wiggle up to Antonio.
"Oh! You're Tony," she gushed. "Krissy's told us all about you. You've been so good to her. We should all be so lucky to have a benefactor like you." She leaned in to give Antonio a full body kiss.
Benefactor? That's not quite what I remember them calling it where I grew up! I stood there, watching helplessly as they stood there flirting and laughing. The women giggled as he stuffed twenty dollar bills into their waistbands and the edge of their corset.
I stepped away, ending up by the bar, ordering myself a drink and trying not to let all this upset me. I looked up to find Antonio heading toward me. I gave him a smile I didn’t feel and turned away.
I felt his fingers slide along my arm. “Are you ready to go?”
“Absolutely,” I said, trying not to sound as jealous as I suddenly felt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I finally worked up the nerve to break the awkward silence that had been with us all the way back to our cabin. He sat down on the arm of the sofa, but I was too wound up to sit.
“Antonio, I-I don’t understand what it is you want from me on this trip.”
“What I want from you?” he said, stretching the phrase into a drawl as he watched me pace.
I frowned. “I thought you wanted… I thought I was… I mean…“
“Angela, you are my associate, are you not?”
“Well, um… yes,” I stammered.
I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to say when we got back to the room. Much less expecting the need to talk at all. But after the fun we'd had earlier today, and then the "show" tonight, I was totally confused. For my own sanity I needed to know what was going on.
"Then what is it you are expecting of me?" he asked me quietly.
I stood there in shock—what did I expect from him?
“What do mean? You're the one who… s-set up… this… trip." I bit my lip, praying I would stop stammering.
“This is a business arrangement, just like all of our other arrangements, Angela."
"Yes."
"Then what kind of game is it you think you're playing?”
My mouth fell open, but no words came out. This conversation definitely wasn’t turning out like anything I had expected.
Antonio rose, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You came to me asking for help. I'm doing my best to provide that help. What more did you want from me?”
"But, I thought you—"
"You thought it would be easy to get what you wanted just because you're beautiful? Angela, there are a million bright and beautiful women in the world. In my line of work, I've seen them all."
He gazed out through the glass door, staring at the moonlight on the ocean, almost as if I wasn't there. Some part of my brain noticed he'd called me beautiful—but there was an edge to this voice that I didn't understand.
“If you believe that you are being treated unfairly, or that I am expecting too much from you, then perhaps you need some time to rethink this arrangement. Otherwise, I expect you to fulfill your commitment," he said, turning his back on me. “I’m going out for the evening.”
I looked up at him sharply. “Wait. Where are you going?”
He turned and gave me a look, but he didn’t respond.
I sighed heavily. “Antonio, please don’t go back to the Casino tonight. Can we please just talk about this?”
“Right now there’s nothing to talk about,” he said, reaching for the door. "But while I'm gone, please consider what's important to you. And where your own priorities lie."
I slumped back on the sofa as I heard the door click behind him. Unwanted tears welled up in my eyes and I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat. For a moment, I almost gave in to the turmoil burning inside me. But then I balled my hands into a fist, my nails digging into my palms. I still didn't get it, but I was not going to let it end like this.
***
I stormed down the hallways until I reached the Casino, then stopped short when I saw Antonio standing just outside, chatting with three men dressed in dark suits. I drew back before he could see me, hiding around the corner.
I heard them laughing, though they were talking too low for me to hear their conversation. I peeked back around and gasped, putting my hand to my mouth to stifle the sound. I recognized the man with the scarred face that I’d seen walking out of Antonio’s office when I accepted his first job offer.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest. What were such creepy guys doing on the ship?
And what was Antonio doing, talking to them like they were all such good friends?
Just what the hell was going on here? Suddenly my anger turned to fear.
I backed away, my plans for confronting Antonio forgotten. I turned, and rushed back to the cabin, my heart still thudding in my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MARIA
"Here Miss Maria," said the serious young girl, handing me a small flower. "Daddy, the flowers are so pretty! I'm glad you brought us here."
I smiled down at Thompson's daughter sitting next to a small bush of lantana, tiny rainbow-colored flowers in a small circled bouquet.
Thompson knelt beside her, letting her lean against him. “I knew you’d like it, Emily.” He looked up at me, grinning proudly.
I smiled back, glad he'd invited me on this impromptu, early morning visit to the park. I looked back and forth between the two of them, admiring the family resemblance. Little Emily looked so much like her father. She had the same sharp features and her bouncing curls were just as rusty brown as his. Plus, they shared the same sparkling blue eyes.
But unlike Thompson, with his big, muscled arms, and his thick legs, Emily was thin, confined to crutches and leg braces to help support her weakened legs. By the look on her face and the laughter in her voice, though, you’d never know she had a disability that could hold her back.
Standing in the middle of the garden, she looked exactly like she belonged there—another part of the bouquet in her rainbow-colored shirt.
I looked down at my own legs. Did I have as much courage as Emily? Or was I using my unresponsive legs as an excuse to hide away from the world?
“Angela comes here sometimes to do wedding and engagement photos.” I looked out over the fields upon fields of flowers in every hue imaginable. “I don’t know why I never came with her.”
"It's a lovely place. Emily loves it here, don't you, dear?"
She looked up at her father, face beaming with love and joy. "Daddy, it's my Happy Place."
I covered my face for a moment with my hands, a shudder running down my body. My Happy Place. When was the last time I'd had a Happy Place? Way too long ago.
Heavens, I thought, if this child can face her issues like this, then certainly I can do a better job!
Chapter Twenty-Five
ANGELA
After last night I'd been worried. Worried Antonio would change his mind about having me on the cruise. Worried I wouldn't meet his expectations. Worried I wouldn't be able to get the money for Maria's operation. Even worried for his safety.
The events from the previous evening kept running through my mind—Antonio with those girls at the burlesque show. With those guys outside the casino. That blasted casino. Antonio sitting at that table. And it reminded me again that my father's gambling addiction was the cause of how I'd come to be here in the first place.
But even though he'd been quiet that morning, he hadn't seemed angry. Kind of the opposite, actually.
I woke up first, planning to order breakfast in so we could talk. It was a little hard to surprise him, though, given his bedroom was just inside the door.
Luckily, he was up and in the shower when the porter arrived, so I set up everything on the veranda and greeted him with a cup of coffee when he came into the room.
"To what do I owe this spe
cial attention?" he asked, sipping the coffee appreciatively.
"I thought about what you said. It's a kind of peace offering?" I looked at him hopefully.
"Well, thank you, Angela. There's no need to apologize. It must be tough being on your own all the time onboard ship. I've also been thinking about our conversations, and I have a couple of ideas."
As soon as he mentioned "ideas" I told my overactive imagination and libido to shut the heck up.
"I think there's a way we can use that photographic talent of yours. I hear from Pris that you offered some intelligent suggestions not too long ago."
Those grainy publicity shots? "Oh, I just noticed how grainy and poorly lit some of the photos were from one of the recent shoots. I didn't think they were particularly attractive, given how beautiful the models and their outfits were."
"So, tell me more about your photography."
I looked at him for a moment, wishing I had some exciting story to explain my passion for taking photos. But I didn’t, so shrugged and simply told the truth.
"It's something I started in high school, as a hobby. Then in college, I kind of branched out. I've always been fascinated by how beautifully expressive people can be, especially on their special days. I like being able to record those precious moments."
"Weddings?"
"Yes. And birthdays, and new babies. I guess I'm a romantic."
"I see. Then I'm glad I had you in that meeting with Tamblin. You're used to observing people, and probably used to seeing the subtlety in their expressions."
"That's what I look for. But you have to be quick, or it's over fast and you lose the opportunity."
"Do much outdoor photography?"
"I actually prefer outdoor weddings and parties. Sometimes they're more difficult, because you can't control the elements. But if you get it right, it's wonderful."
Antonio studied me for just a moment longer. Setting down his coffee cup, he leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially.
"Listen, I have a great idea. I'm far busier on this trip than I want to be.” He grinned as my eyebrows expressly communicated ‘oh really’?
“I know, I know,” he went on and had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "But that was set up before… before I knew you'd be coming along. I'll get away when I can. But in the meantime, I want you to keep a lookout for places we might use in photo shoots for Carlo and Poula's new line. I'm beginning to like the idea of shooting it outside, and even if we don't use settings in the Caribbean, perhaps we can find something similar when we visit them in Europe."
"Oh, I would never feel comfortable doing a photographic shoot for them."
"You don't have to do the photography, but that will remain to be seen. All I'm asking for, is that you keep an eye out for spots that would reflect the freshness of their designs. We'll make the final decisions together."
"But other than that first meeting, I don't know what their designs really look like. How can I judge what settings would be appropriate?"
"Some of their new ideas are on the flash drive I gave you. Have you looked through it yet? No? Take a quick look before you head out today. You'll find everything you need to know about them—as well as how to contact them for our upcoming trip."
I stared out at the bright reflections on the ocean. Travel coordinator, photo shoot canvasser, account manager. Maybe I had misunderstood this whole thing? Holy crap. If that was the case, I had some backpedaling to do. Now I was starting to really feel foolish.
"Okay, I'm off to my meeting. There's no rush on setting up our visit. So long as arrangements are made by the end of the trip, I'll be satisfied. And Angela," he reached over to take my hand. "When you get back this afternoon, we'll talk some more."
Damn the man, now I was all tingly again. I could certainly have done without his touch. Every time I thought I had my emotions handled, something like this happened. This was turning out to be a far more difficult trip than I had imagined.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Another island—St. Lucia, this time, and Antonio had stayed onboard the ship yet again. But after our talk, I had expected it, and besides, I had an assignment.
Here I was, surrounded by beautiful scenery, happy people, and nice, warm sunshine, doing my best to keep my thoughts off Antonio Mancini.
“I can’t believe I’m going to see a real volcano!” said the young woman behind me as our little tour bus pulled away. She was one of five other people crammed into the tour bus with me. At first, I tried to ignore her, but the limited space made it impossible, and it really wasn’t like me to be rude, no matter how horrible I was feeling.
“I’ve heard it’s really amazing,” I managed, remembering what I’d read in the itinerary before I’d left the cabin that morning. The truth was, it really did sound fascinating.
“I’m Tina,” said the woman, her short auburn bob dancing around her face as she spoke. “And this is my husband, Greg.” The man leaned forward to wave to everyone.
Vanessa and Charlotte introduced themselves next, best friends who had been saving for this trip for ages.
“I’m Angela,” I said. “I’m here on, um, a business trip.”
“Wow,” said Vanessa. “I’d love to work where you do!”
Everyone laughed at that, including the tour guide, Damian, who leaned back in the driver’s seat to call over his shoulder. “If your job lets you visit my beautiful island,” he said in a thick, cheerful accent, “then you have definitely found the right career.”
With introductions out of the way, Damian took over the conversation, maneuvering the bus through the winding rocky roads. He seemed to know everyone. Men and women, young and old, all had a smile and wave for him as we passed. He was practically hanging out the window to wave to people or shake hands. Twice, he actually stopped to grab us tasty treats from the locals.
“This is the West Coast Road,” Damian said in his sing-song voice as he turned the bus, leaving Castries, the capital city, behind.
The view along the roller coaster road was spectacular. Once again, I silently thanked Maria for making sure I brought my camera, especially now that Antonio had also given his blessing. Lush greenery, a rainbow of flowers, and the sapphire ocean beyond gave me plenty of opportunity for capturing the beauty of the island.
“I think you will want to take some special pictures of my beautiful country,” Damian said with a wink. His casual driving along the narrow road made me incredibly nervous, but his exuberance and pure love for the country and his job made it impossible for me not to get swept up in the excitement and beauty of this trip.
“This is our world famous banana plantation,” he boasted, pulling the bus onto a dirt road. Damian grinned at us, silent for the moment, waiting for a response instead of gushing with history.
“Why are we stopping to look at bananas?” I heard Greg mutter, but he didn’t complain when we got out to stretch our legs, walking among the rows upon rows of large-leafed trees.
I clicked away with my camera, capturing images of the cheerful workers and the bunches of yellowing bananas hanging from the trees.
“You’ve never tasted a banana until you come to the islands,” said a woman with a gapped-tooth smile.
Vanessa and Charlotte were giggling behind me, but a moment later, I was snapping pictures of their elation as they tasted the delicious fruit. The woman was right. The bananas I’d bought every week at the grocery store could not compare with the intense flavor that practically sang in my mouth.
After another bumpy jaunt, Damian let us out for a hike to the Piton Waterfalls. I was grateful for my new hiking boots—yet another investment for this trip that I never would have imagined being able to afford before. They were a big help on the fifteen-minute walk.
Some of the others complained along the trail, but when we reached the mineral falls, they sighed with relief as they slipped their bare feet into the pristine waters. With a happy nod from Damian, Greg and Tina stripped down to their bathing suits a
nd hopped into the pool, splashing and playing like children beneath the mist of the falls.
“Angela!” Tina called to me. The shimmering blue butterfly I was following slipped away when I turned to see what she wanted. “Come join us!” she cried happily.
I smiled, turning my camera on them. “No, don’t pose, Greg,” I said, trying not to laugh at his antics as he mugged for the camera. “Just relax and have fun.”
The lovely couple went back to their games. With each click, I felt a little pang of envy. I tried to imagine Antonio splashing around in the water like Greg, grabbing me from behind and planting playful kisses along my neck and shoulders as the waters cascaded down upon us.
“All right, ladies and ge'mens,” called Damian, saving me from my own tumultuous imagination. “It’s time to move on to our next stop!”
The temperature rose steadily, and I was thankful to be riding in an air-conditioned bus. At least the cramped ride inside the bus was bearable as we bumped along to our next stop at Soufriere.
“A drive-in volcano?” Charlotte asked.
"Oh, yes, it is our premier stop," Damian said as he skillfully maneuvered the bus into the volcano, proudly informing us that it was the only one of its kind. We held our noses at the strong smell of sulfur. But it wasn't long before the smell was forgotten as we hiked further inside to view the sulfur springs, surrounded by colorful rock formations. I knelt to pick up a rock, admiring the iridescent colors that flashed across its surface.
We tumbled back into the bus after about twenty-five minutes. The rest of the trip flew by too quickly, but I was looking forward to reliving it all with Maria with all the pictures I’d taken.
On the drive back, we stopped briefly at the mud baths, and this time I took advantage of them. After all, they are supposed to make you look decades younger, and a girl can't be too prissy about erasing years from her face.
I have to admit, it was a strange feeling being surrounded by mud—hot mud. I certainly felt like a kid again—kind of like being allowed to lay around in a giant mud puddle with no one telling me not to. The mud was a bit sticky, but definitely soothing and oddly refreshing. After a while of being immersed, though, I began to feel slightly claustrophobic—I was never one to deal very well with heat and humidity, and in the mud bath, there was no way to escape from either one. I was actually grateful when our time was up.