Dudes Down Under

by Suzannah Burke

  “Why is he grunting like that?” Izzy asked in a worried tone.

  “He wants us to follow him, I think. I have an awful feeling he may know exactly where your bag is.”

  “Oh my God, oh poor Cyril. I didn’t give the you-know-what skin a thought.”

  "Don’t apologize, please, Izzy. Let’s find it and assess the possible damage. Everything will of course be replaced if it is damaged in any way.”

  The two women followed Cyril as he swaggered his way across to the pool. He looked over the edge and back at the ladies with a happy croc smile. See, it's just as I thought. He is loving it so much, he hasn’t come out.

  Lucy and Izzy looked into the pool. Izzy started to splutter and Lucy joined in.

  Cyril watched in astonishment as the two of them held onto each other and roared with laughter. Well, that’s one hell of a way to react to a poignant moment. Don’t both rush to hug me at once. Hrmph. Human’s are soooo weird. I need a drink.

  Lucy tried valiantly to pull herself together, and was achieving some semblance of normality until Izzy said, “I think it’s had a skinfull,” which set them off again.

  Cyril grunted with disgust. Well, so much for the miracle moment. I’m going to find my Skeet. He appreciates me.

  “Just as well nobody decided on taking a quick swim. Can you imagine how they would feel coming up against a Hermes predator?” said Lucy between spasms of laughter. “I’ll have everything replaced first thing in the morning, Izzy. I am so sorry.”

  Izzy and Lucy were still giggling like teenagers when they re-entered the reception area. Izzy wandered off to tell everyone. Lucy tried hard to pull herself together. Having the hiccups wasn’t helping.

  The owner of a high-pitched strident voice entered the foyer.

  The young woman strode, red-faced up, to the reception desk. Looking about her with a bored expression, she asked of no one in particular, “Where on earth are my staff? Why aren’t they here waiting for me? They are supposed to be here. And why the hell has my cell-phone stopped working?”

  Lucy recognized the woman but didn’t like her attitude. She walked across and said, “Do we have a problem? I am the manager. Perhaps I can assist, Miss.”

  “God, what kind of place is this? You don’t even know who I am.”

  “I do beg your pardon, madam. Am I supposed to?” Lucy felt a vindictive thrill, which she was instantly ashamed of.

  “I’m, like, Sidney Sheridan. Even you must have heard of my name.” The young woman was a little shocked and confused. This was highly unusual.

  “Sheridan? Oh, yes of course, hotels, isn’t it? I have met your father and your late uncle. We have a bungalow reserved for you. However, your staff will not be arriving until tomorrow, Ms Sheridan. As for the cell-phone, you were advised prior to booking your suite that we had no cell-phone reception here. We also have no computers available, or television, but we do have so many other facilities, including a large library and music collection.”

  “Library? What the hell would I want from a library? Like, boring! Daddy made this booking. I’ll simply have to have this changed.”

  “No, I am afraid that won’t be happening, Ms. Sheridan. That would not agree with the terms of your booking. If you feel that you simply haven’t got what it takes to stay with us, then I will of course be happy to arrange for the helicopter to return you to the mainland. As your father made the booking, naturally I will have to explain our non-refundable rule to him. If you do manage to stay one week, however, a partial refund can be made. The choice is, of course, yours. However, if you are leaving, I suggest you make your decision quickly, as the helicopter is returning to the mainland shortly.”

  “You can’t do this! Wait till my father finds out. He’ll contact the owner of this place and you’ll get fired.”

  “Correction, Ms. Sheridan. I can and I just did. May I suggest you join the other guests in the ballroom? Perhaps a quiet drink will assist you to make the right choice. Now, if you will excuse me, I have important things to attend to.”

  The young blonde woman stormed into the Grand Ballroom ready to create a scene, only to find herself in the company of several mega-stars she had always wanted to meet and persuade to like her. She was far too self-centered to notice the looks exchanged by some of the luminous ones at her arrival. Perhaps, if she had, it would have prevented her from staying after all.

  The chopper arrived with the last of the guests. Both had insisted on arriving apart from the others. His look was that of a man totally used to getting what he wanted, on his terms. The woman seemed relaxed enough. Lucy was sure she recognized her but the face had been altered sufficiently so that she could not be certain. Oh hell, this was all she needed.

  Lucy was still fired up after Junior Sheridan had worked her magic; she was in no mood for any more bullshit. She reminded herself sternly that this business would certainly attract more than its share but she drew the line at any of her people having to tolerate shit from the guests.

  Mr. Guest, however, was in friendly likeable mode, apparently his most dangerous attack formation.

  Ginny did not recognize him as he was not in the movie- or television-star genre, so thankfully she didn’t faint.

  He checked in and headed out towards another bar he had spotted on the way up from the helipad. The name of the place caused him to smile - ‘The Swamp' had come from his favorite show, M.A.S.H. When he walked in, even he was a little overwhelmed at the exactness that greeted him. All that was missing was ‘Hawkeye’ and ‘Hotlips’. He was certain he could rectify part two of that equation. After all, he was disgustingly wealthy. Most people chose to leave off part two of that description. He smiled. He couldn’t care less. He didn’t know how to care more.

  * * *

  Lucy looked around her and took a deep breath. The walls hadn’t tumbled, and so far so good on the arrivals and check-ins.

  “Ginny, you’ve had a big day, even though most of it was spent on the floor. You can go off now, honey. I’ll stay at the desk until Lee takes over at midnight. You go and get some sleep.”

  “Lucy, can I wait - please? Just till they walk back through on their way out? Please, Lucy.”

  “Can you promise me not to faint again?”

  “Sure, it’s all good. I’ll be fine now, truly. Please, Lucy?”

  “Okay, but I won’t be far away. Did Skeet feed Cyril?”

  “Oh, he tried, but Cyril is so drunk, he doesn’t feel hungry.”

  “Where the hell is Cyril? He should be tucked up in his apartment by now. Come to think of it, where is Skeet?”

  Ginny wasn’t paying attention as Jack Starr and Mr. and Mrs. Brown had just strolled through from the ballroom.

  Ginny was busy listening in on their conversation.

  “Aw c’mon, Tony. You gotta get over it, man. So she didn’t come to the wedding - no big deal. The press always blows these things out of proportion, you know that. This is your holiday, man. Just, you know, let it go.”

  Ginny wasn’t sure what Jack Starr meant. She had a vague memory of the big fancy wedding the Browns had had. Who was it that didn’t go? She’d ask Miss Peters; she knew everything.

  Lucy meanwhile had gone in search of Cyril and Skeet.

  Cyril had his own small apartment with an in-ground pool in its dining room and all the creature comforts, of course. He normally ambled off to bed around 10:00 p.m., but tonight was special. Skeet was probably reading him his bedtime story.

  Lucy laughed at herself as she found her hand knocking on Cyril’s door. Everyone treated him like family. She'd best remember the guests had to learn, and fast, just what they could and could not do where Cyril was concerned. After all, he may be family to the people that had raised him, but he was still a crocodile, and a very big one.

  Lucy flipped the light switch and grinned delightedly at the sight that greeted her. Cyril was soundly sleeping, snoring contentedly, with a wet towel draped across his eyes and clutching his Pooh-bear. Skee
t was up on the top bunk nearby with Cyril’s copy of The Wind in the Willows over his head. All was well. Lucy turned off the light and relaxed. So far, paradise was surviving the guests okay.

  She returned to the main reception area and double-checked with the night staffers that all was well. The announcement about orientation had been done. Every condo had a large notice about it, along with the Moët & Chandon, a basket of tropical fruit and Piss-Off insect repellent awaiting them on arrival.

  Orientation would take place at one o'clock the following afternoon. Hopefully most of the guests would be awake enough by then.

  There was much they needed to be aware of, and many things to enjoy, if they were game enough.

  Lucy was confident that the raucous laughter of the kookaburras and screeching of the rainbow lorikeets would awaken them well before that time.

  She glanced at her watch, sighing with relief to find she was now officially off-duty.

  Still wound up way too tight, Lucy decided to head on down to her favorite little hiding place. She didn’t think any of the new arrivals would have ventured much past the welcoming party in the main ballroom.

  Pushing open the door of The Swamp, she was dismayed to find Mr. Guest sitting at the bar in deep conversation with Max, the bartender.

  Max spotted her. “Hey Lucy, you want your usual?”

  Damn, no way I can exit gracefully. “Thanks, Maxi, yes. I’ll have it over in my corner.”

  “Comin’ right up, oh gorgeous one.”

  Damn, don’t come over, I’m off-duty. I don’t want to speak to anybody, especially you.

  “Well, now, hi there, little lady. Did I hear Max say your name was Lucy?”

  She shook the outstretched hand and nodded.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  God damn it … yes, I do mind. Go away you obnoxious worm. “No, go ahead. It’s almost a free world.”

  “My name is ... well, you are well aware of what my name is ... so, for now, how about you call me Ed.”

  Ed, yeah sure. Dracula would be better, you bloodsucker.

  “Hello … Ed.”

  “Are you a guest here, Lucy?”

  “No.” That should make you run. I’m just a little worker bee.

  “So, what is it you do here, Lucy? Bar work? You are much too beautiful to do anything domestic.”

  Pull your bloody head in, you wanker. Beautiful, my arse. Why is it that all you male millionaire creeps think that tits and money don’t go together? So, of course, I got to be the entertainment or a bloody bar attendant. Prick!

  “I’m by way of being a, um, baby sitter of sorts.”

  “I thought children were not permitted here?”

  “Babies come in all age groups, Ed.” Piss off and leave me alone. I might just say all this stuff and not just think it. Note to self, never date a man with a toupé.

  “You’re not very talkative, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Poor little girl. Your boss must be working you too hard.”

  “My boss is terrific.”

  “Well, of course he must be. This place is a gold mine. You might just be working for me one day soon, Lucy. This whole set up intrigues me. I might just check it all out and have my people make an offer.”

  Go ahead, make my life, you son-of-a-bitch. Aww, the pleasure I would have telling you to stick it up your arse sideways. Makes me tingle all over just thinking about it.

  “This place is not for sale, at any price, Ed. The owner would never sell.”

  “Well now, pretty Lucy, in my experience everyone has a price. Your precious boss won’t be any different.”

  Lucy, downed her Mai-tai, looked at her watch and flipped Ed a fixed smile. “Well, goodnight, Ed. I hope you enjoy your stay.” She got up before he could say another word. Giving Max the high sign to keep his mouth zipped, Lucy headed on to her own accommodation.

  Tomorrow promised to be a very big day.

  Chapter 4

  A few of the guests had awoken early to the sound of the birds and decided to venture out and look around before Orientation at 1:00 p.m. Tristan and his beautiful wife walked hand-in-hand along the shaded area of the pathway leading from their bungalow and winding through the rain forest on its way down to the main area of the resort.

  “God, honey, this place is really something. Do you believe the colors of those flowers? That’s gotta be sprayed on. I feel like I’m in the Garden of Eden or someplace like it,” said Izzy Jones.

  “Yeah, I’m already glad we came. It’s just - damn, do you realize we are out walking around and nobody is following us? It feels kinda strange, but, man, I sure like it.”

  “He-heh, yeah. It’s great. It feels weird but I figure no-one except the staff will be asking us for autographs - maybe that sweet little Ginny girl, if she can stay conscious long enough, that is.”

  “They sure are a warm bunch of people. We’ll have to try and get the accents down. If Meryl can do it, we can do it.”

  “Well, I dunno, sweetheart. I don’t think there is an accent on the planet that Meryl can’t do. Aww, hell, it’ll sure be fun, though. Why not?”

  “The sign in the condo said every restaurant is open 24/7. Want to see what they serve for breakfast down under?”

  “Uh-huh. I don’t feel jet-lagged and I sure am hungry. What day is it here?”

  “Let me see. They are about fifteen hours ahead of us and we crossed the date line, so it’s like 4:00 p.m. Saturday in New York, so yeah, it’s 7:00 a.m. Sunday here.” Izzy continued to gaze about her. “The sign said we should wear the hats and those flip flop things, and sunblock. Man, they are not joking about the weather here. We are so lucky to be catching that ocean breeze. The air even smells different. What is that?”

  “That is what non-polluted air smells like, honey, mixed in with all the flowers and salt air. Can you taste any gas fumes?”

  “Ummm, no. Is that what it is, just fresh clean air? Oh God, baby, that is so sad. I can’t believe I can actually taste the difference.”

  “Maybe it’s time we started to do a serious rethink about where we want to spend our time. Can you imagine the kids in this environment?”

  “Not without the iPods, cell-phones and PCs; not to mention DVD players and games consoles. We didn’t need all that crap growing up. This would be so much better for them, maybe help them learn some different values.”

  “See, that’s why I love you, Izzy. You are such a worrier, and beautiful. Plus, of course, you make great burgers.” He gently swatted the delectable butt. “Let’s wait and see how things play out. Give it a week and we’ll talk about it some more, okay? Meantime, which restaurant for breakfast, wife?”

  “Somewhere, um, somewhere that serves pancakes and maple syrup outside. Do you think? Yeah, I’ll bet they have.”

  * * *

  Other condos were coming to life, several guests nursing payment for the heavy drinking of the night before.

  Lana Peters checked in the vanity cabinet. Man, this place had thought of everything. There was a note attached to a little zip bag that read, ‘Hangover cure, drink this.’

  She laughed out loud with delight. “Shit, I feel like Alice in Wonderland - eat this, drink me - whoo-hoo! I also feel about nine years old, and I’m talking to my damn self.” She giggled and then held her head. Damn, Alice could wait. The hangover cure could not.

  * * *

  Skeet had been up and about for hours. He liked to start the day with the sunrise. Cyril was as grumpy as you would expect a crocodile to be with a major hangover. Skeet would have to make it a point to ask the guests only to give him beer. The spirits always gave him a case of the ‘you-know-I’m-a-predator-so-watch-your-damn-ass-'cause-I’m-grumpy’s.

  “Eat ya breakfast and stop ya bitchin’, Cyril. I told ya to stay away from that bloody Jack Daniels stuff. Didn’t I tell ya? But oh no, you always know better, can’t tell ya a bloody thing!”

  Cyril granted him a large belch and a disgustingly n
oisy fart. The problem with Skeet was his nagging … but Skeet was Skeet, and he was his family, so it was all good - for now.

  “I’m probably gonna have to get ya a hair of the dog to fix this hangover, Cyril.”

  DOG! There is no way known that this crocodile is going to eat the dog. Um, what is a dog? Why does it have hair? Will I like it? Personally, I think a JD would make me feel much better.

  * * *

  Lucy breezed into the reception area wearing a stunning sunshine-yellow backless sun dress. It set her gold tan off to perfection. Today she had plaited her long hair and it hung down her bared back. A beautiful pair of the new season's Prada completed her outfit. She looked far more like a supermodel than the hard working owner of a luxury resort.

  If anyone had thought to mention this to Lucy, she wouldn’t have believed them. She had never thought of herself that way. Daddy had raised her to think business first, last and always.

  “Any sign of Bluey, Ginny?”

  “Huh? Oh … Bluey ... um,I don’t remember seeing him, Lucy.” Ginny had the grace to turn bright red. She had forgotten to check on Bluey, or to tell Skeet that Lucy wanted to see him.

  “Ginny, you need to get a grip on where you are and what you are doing. I don’t want to have to take you off reception, but you know I will, okay? You have got to be on your toes, sweetie. No more warnings, okay?”

  “Lucy, I’m so sorry. I won’t let ya down again, I promise.”

  “All right then. Are all the guests in the Grand Ballroom yet?”

  “Yeees, all except …” she checked her list, “… all except Ms. Andrews and Ms. Dayton. Oh, and Mr. Rodriguez. I didn’t see Ms. Andrews or Mr. Rodriguez arrive. Are they movie stars as well, Luce? And Ms. Andrews wants to change rooms. Guess who she wants to move next door to. Go on, guess!”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Jones?”

  “Yep, you got it. Shit, Luce, I don’t think that would be a real comfortable situation, do you?”

  “Very astute of you, Ginny. I’m certain that they would both be more comfortable if Mr. Jones’ ex-wife were not next door. What did you tell Ms. Andrews?”