Dudes Down Under

by Suzannah Burke

  Just as the whistle blew, Kylie swapped places with Karen Brown, placing herself directly behind her ex-husband’s new wife. What was even stranger was Karen Brown. She jumped in front of Izzy Jones and directly behind Vanessa Dayton, her own husband’s ex.

  Tony Brown said, “Oh fuck, no, Karen!”

  Lana Peters said, “Uh-oh!”

  Vanessa Dayton smiled serenely and said nothing.

  Izzy Jones said, “Bring it on, bitch.”

  Kylie Andrews said, “Can you breathe underwater?”

  The whistle blew.

  Lucy whispered, “Oh shit!”

  Skeet replied with, “Yep, I think it might go that way, Luce.”

  The ladies were really getting into the feel of the thing. The men were doing a fine loud job of cheering them on. The females from the A team were pulled into the edges of the puddle but managed to regain ground before the second member on the rope hit the water. That was the lose position and so far close, but no cigars.

  Somehow Izzy Jones lost her string bikini top, which none of the men were complaining about. If the bitch behind her thought that this would cause her to quit and look like a sore loser, she was very much mistaken. Her childish attempt to embarrass Izzy succeeded only in making people aware of what a truly great set of tits Izzy had, and congratulate her for being a great sport.

  Cyril lay watching with interest. I could mud wrestle ‘em free. I’d win too. C’mon, Dudes team! Oh my! That can’t be good. Why is that Kylie Andrews person undressing Izzy Jones? Is that in the rules? Can I play too?

  Karen Brown shoved her knee hard into the back of Vanessa Dayton’s legs, causing her to fall face down in the mud. Lana Peters lost her balance as a result. Karen fell on top of Vanessa. She yanked hard on Vanessa’s long hair and screamed as loud as she could, “Oh, I am so so sorry, I must have slipped.”

  Vanessa climbed out from under, still smiling. She made much of giving Karen a forgiving hug, and whispered in her ear, “Touch me again like that, you stupid cow, and I'll rip your fucking eyes out.” She smiled and ensured that she gave the perplexed bystanders a huge laugh.

  Tony Brown strode across to his wife. He grabbed her by the hand. He then shoved her under the hose. The clearly unhappy man left her standing there, dripping wet, as he stomped off in the direction of the Swamp.

  Tristan looked fit to be tied. Lucy was very concerned that this bitchy rivalry could get nasty.

  Lana Peters walked hurriedly over to Tristan. “Whoa, there, hot-stuff. Take it easy. Izzy handled that like a trouper. You’ll only make the ex worse if you rip her apart in front of everyone. Leave it alone, Tris. Trust me, Kylie will play even dirtier if she’s humiliated. Besides, she actually made Izzy come outta this lookin’ real good.”

  Tristan ran his hands through his thick blond hair. He was clearly not impressed but he saw the sense in what Lana had said. He gave that bone-melting smile, and relaxed.

  Lana looked around, hoping to see Karen. She caught sight of her hurrying back in the direction of the bungalows.

  Vanessa Dayton poured herself a large glass of chilled Moët and sat in the shade of a cabana.

  Lucy wanted to get up and hug Lana Peters. She reminded herself to say a private thank you later.

  The remaining contests were hugely enjoyed. The guests wandered back to their bungalows to shower and change, with Didi’s reminder of a very casual dance to be held after a large Aussie style Bar-B-Q.

  Cyril was a little confused. These humans are strange. I’ve never seen Lucy take her clothes off in public. I wouldn’t be seen running around without my t-shirt. Izzy Jones looked ... um … interesting. I wonder what those things are for. Maybe they’re just decoration ... unless they are a weapon. Nyah, they looked too squishy to be a defense. Oh boy, I hope she does it again at the dance.

  Chapter 8

  “Will you stop complainin’? It's a bloody dance, mate. You gotta look good. Now, hold still. There, that’s better, Cyril. Go and have a look at yourself in the mirror, mate. The tux t-shirt looks bloody smart."

  Whatever you say, Skeet. I won’t get to dance with those beautiful women anyways. It’s soooo unfair. I didn’t ask to be born a bloody crocodile. Hmmm, hey Skeet, this looks pretty damn spiffy, mate. Sexy, hey?

  “Good. Ya smilin’. Told ya that ya looked good. I dunno what the hell I’m gonna wear. Whadya reckon, Cyril? Gimme one grunt for the new pants and the white shirt and two grunts for the tight jeans and muscle shirt. Well, c’mon, whadya think?"

  Must we do this every damned time? Very well, I’ll do the grunt thing. It’s terribly undignified, you know.

  "Don’t be bloody difficult. That was three grunts.”

  Oh, clever you. Of course it was three grunts, you moron. I want you to wear the new pants with the muscle shirt. Do I have to do everything around here? You are such a clod when it comes to dress sense. I’ll have to show you. Here …

  “Now what are ya doin'? Oh, I get it. All right, put it down, I getcha. So … new pants and, what, the muscle shirt?"

  Yes, dumbo. I’ll never teach you good taste. Why do I even bother?

  “Thanks for the input, mate.”

  Whatever.

  “We better get crackin’, mate. It’s time.”

  No shit, Sherlock. I must find out what that means. I like the sound of this Sherlock person, whoever he is. These Yanks have some strange sayings.

  * * *

  “Ginny, honey, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes, yes you can. Anything, Miss Peters.”

  “Well first up, girlfriend, you gotta call me Lana, okay? Don’t you dare faint! It’s just my name, sweetie.”

  “Lana - got it. Lana. Ask away.”

  “Who owns this place, Ginny? Any ideas? Is it a corporation or a multi-national conglomerate?”

  “You know something, I don’t have a clue. We’ve been tryin’ to find out ourselves since day one.”

  “Does anybody know? I mean, who pays you for instance?”

  “Lucy must know. She runs this place. But we always get paid right on time into our bank accounts. If we want cash, we use the cash-teller facility on the mainland. We don’t have to buy anything here, it’s all provided."

  “That’s one mighty generous boss.”

  “It’s part of the reason we all love workin’ here. The pay and the conditions more than make up for living away from the mainland.”

  “So, all the staff live here on the island?”

  “Yes, we all do.”

  “This is some amazing place. Oh yeah, um, Ginny, I found a purse with the only identification as Bungalow 1 North. Who is in that one, honey? Can you find out for me so I can return it?”

  “Oh, that’s easy, I know them all off by heart. Kylie Andrews is in 1 North.”

  “Kylie Andrews? Er-hem, Kylie Andrews. Er, thanks, Ginny. You have been such a help.”

  “Anything for you Ms. … Lana.” Ginny beamed with delight. Who was ever gonna believe she was on first name terms with Lana Peters?

  Lucy had come in and joined them, pleased that Lana was sitting with her biggest fan.

  “Lucy, I’ll try askin’ you what I just asked little Ginny girlfriend. Who owns this place? C’mon, girlfriend, you’re the manager, you gotta know.”

  “Yes, I do know. It would cost me my job if I divulged that information.”

  “Hell, sorry. I wouldn’t want that to happen. Why is it such a secret? Can I ask that?”

  “The entire place is privately owned, Lana, all of it. The owner is a very private person. It’s as simple as that.”

  “One man owns all … all this?”

  “Yes. One person owns the whole shebang.”

  “Phew, girlfriend. That’s heavy-duty money!”

  “If you say so, Lana. Enough of this serious stuff. Are you game to try our Aussie cuisine?”

  Lana Peters gave her a soft smile and shrugged. She hadn’t given up. But, for now, it was fun time. “I’m not sure. What does cro
codile taste like, Lucy?”

  “To be totally fair, I have no idea. Every time I think of trying it myself, I look at Cyril and change my mind.”

  “God, I love you Aussies. How honest is that?”

  “I’m told it tastes like a cross between chicken and fish. I can recommend the roo, marinated in red wine and spices. It’s very tasty. However, I’m very spoilt. I love seafood. The seafood here is the best I’ve ever eaten anywhere in the world.”

  “You've won me. I’m a seafood girl myself. Yeah, see food and eat it, that’s me.”

  “Groan, Lana, that’s so old!”

  “Heh-heh, ain’t that the truth? Honey, I have tried every diet known to man. I just can’t maintain the discipline. Everything else in my life I have total control over, but when it comes to food ... nada, zilch, zippo … forget-about-it.”

  “Well, let’s just wait and see. After a month in the sunshine and fresh air, and plenty of exercise, you may just surprise yourself.”

  “Dream on, girlfriend.”

  Lucy turned to Ginny who was still sitting transfixed with every word her idol was saying, “Ginny, will you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Huh?”

  “Buzz off, Ginny. I want to talk to Lana for a sec.”

  “Oh, sure, Lucy.”

  “‘sup, Lucy?” asked Lana.

  “I wanted to thank you for stepping in and calming things down this afternoon. You know, with the ex-wife situation.”

  “Mmm, yeah, it’s a little worrying. I’m hopin’ that Tristan keeps a lid on his temper. Izzy is being really cool about the whole deal but Kylie needs to get over it big time. Doesn’t seem to matter what anybody says, she’s convinced she’ll win him back.”

  “Why? I mean, yeah, he is gorgeous but he did fall in love with another woman while he was still married. That’s not always the best recipe for a long and happy life together.”

  “It’s more a case of hurt pride with Kylie, I think. Plus, the damned press won’t let it alone. I don’t think anyone can change her mind. I have tried and so have a lot of other people. The thing is, well, Izzy is a very popular lady, not just with men either. She is a honey, while Kylie, you know, she just doesn’t seem to endear herself so well.”

  “I’m shocked. Not. As long as she behaves herself while she’s here, that’s her business. I would really hate to have to tell her to leave.”

  “My God! You would do that? Seriously?”

  “If I have reason to believe that she is deliberately causing trouble with other guests, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

  “Shit! You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Why so surprised?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just ... well, yeah, I suppose you’re right. Why not? Anyone else would have to go. I guess fame is just not as important here, is it? You know something, Lucy, that is so damned refreshing.”

  “Refreshing? I don’t know about that. It’s just the way we are.”

  “So, enough already. Let’s go eat.”

  “I’m with you, Lana. Lead the way.”

  The two women walked off together, still chatting and laughing. They were being closely observed.

  Kylie Andrews was not happy. She was not happy at all.

  Chapter 9

  Skeet wandered out to the Bar-B-Q area, closely followed by Cyril. They both attracted a lot of attention, for different reasons.

  Skeet was almost too good looking for his own good but he had no idea what he was doing to the female pulse rates in the room.

  Cyril, on the other hand, was making pulses race for very different reasons. Even in his tux t-shirt, there was no disguising the fact that he was a very large crocodile. Cyril wasn’t at all concerned. He’d been fed and was looking forward to his beer and some good music.

  Look at these women - hubba-hubba. Man, they breed ‘em beautiful over there. What I wouldn’t give for a cuddle or three with Izzy Jones, or any of these other ladies. Mmm … except maybe that Vanessa Dayton. She looked like she could freeze hell over without workin’ up a sweat. Talk about ice-maiden. I wonder what that means. How could ya have a maiden made of ice, unless the place is called Ice and then ‘made in ice’ would make sense. Whoa, that’s deep. I’ll have another beer and ponder that one.

  Skeet headed for the microphone. “Hey, this is a great turnout. Looks like most of you Yanks decided to have a go at the food. Who tried the croc steaks? Don’t be bashful. Cyril is cool. He knows it isn’t his family, doncha, Cyril?”

  Cyril belched good and loud, ensuring everyone thought he agreed with Skeet. Just hurry up with my beer. Enough of this play-the-crowd bullshit!

  “All right, that’s great, most of you have tried them. Was anyone game enough to eat the witchity grub stew?” No hands were raised to that question. Skeet laughed. “Smart people. I’ve never even tried that one. Enjoy the remainder of your evening, folks. The band will be on shortly. They play requests, so if you've got a favorite, don’t hesitate to ask. Not you, Cyril!” Cyril was thumping his tail and grunting. “I know what you wanna hear, mate. Later, okay? C’mon, I’ll get ya a beer or ten. Oh folks, one more thing. If ya wanna buy my mate Cyril here a drink, please go ahead. But only beer, okay. That Jack Daniels stuff gave him the mother of all hangovers. Trust me, he was one unhappy croc!”

  * * *

  Sidney Sheridan sat sulking at one end of the bar. God, these people were boring. Even those on the A list that she had been hanging to meet didn’t seem terribly exciting.

  I guess that’s the problem. They’re all as jaded as I am, except most of them are game enough to do something about it. Why bother? It’s easier to just sit back and allow others to entertain me. She glanced around her. Let me see now, whom can I have some fun with? Hmm, that silly receptionist … what was her name again? Yes, she could provide some entertainment for a short while.

  “Lucy, I said casual dress for the dance. I did, didn’t I?” Didi asked as she sat herself down.

  Lucy laughed delightedly at Didi’s facial expression. “Yes you did, Didi. To these people this is casual. They are wearing designer label casual, that’s the only difference.”

  “Yeah, the only difference. Right, gotcha, Luce. When did you last have an eye test, mate?”

  Lucy laughed again. She was enjoying the spectacle of watching some of the most famous faces and bodies in the world enjoying themselves on her dance floor. She sighed contentedly. Most of these people appeared to be having the time of their lives. Sure, they hadn’t learned to let it rip the Aussie way yet, however it was only the second night. So far the novelty was holding. Well, for most of them anyway. Lucy glanced over at Sidney Sheridan. The young woman wore a permanent pout. The sulky expression sure wasn’t encouraging anyone to ask her to dance.

  Lucy stood and excused herself to Didi. She walked quickly into the backstage area and had a chat to a few of the staff. These guys were hunks and they knew it. They were employed to dance with, and mingle with, the guests. No hanky-panky unless, of course, the guests made their own arrangements privately. Lucy deemed what the staff did in their own time to be their own damned business.

  Satisfied that she had that little detail under control, she returned to the ballroom.

  Lucy looked around. She could see no sign of the obnoxious Ed Guest. Wherever he is, I hope he stays there. Hmm, probably counting his money and figuring out a way to buy this place. No chance, no chance in hell! Some of these people are odd. Like what on earth is wrong with that silly Sidney person? My God, she’s only young, too young to be that jaded with life. I’ll have to give that some thought later.

  “Well now, Lucy, dinner was quite remarkable,” said Ed Guest.

  Lucy jumped. She hadn’t heard the man come up behind her. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “Ah yes. I have been sitting quietly enjoying the 60s vintage music.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you around the same uh … vintage?” Lucy could have bitten her tongue out. Da
mn, this man bought out her defenses. She was about to find some way to apologize when he surprised her by laughing. It seemed unforced.

  “Oh, Lucy, what is it about me that has you so on edge?”

  “I don’t know for sure but I doubt you can change it.” Doh! I did it again! I gotta get out of here before I say any more of this shit. “You will excuse me? I believe Skeet is trying to get my attention.”

  Lucy got up and hurried over to where Skeet, Lana Peters and Sidney Sheridan were all crowded around Cyril. Ed Guest remained where he was, watching Lucy much like a cat who watches a mouse just before it pounces.

  “Aww c’mon, mate, stop sulking. It’s not time yet.” Skeet was down on his haunches having a discussion with Cyril.

  “Whatsa matter, like, with the alligator?” asked Sidney.

  “Whoa. First up, mate, he ain’t a 'gator, he’s a crocodile.”

  “Well, my bad. So, like, is the crocodile sick?”

  “No, mate, he’s sulking.”

  “Well now, Sidney girlfriend. You know what that looks like,” Lana Peters said with her teeth gritted.

  That comment went right over Sidney’s blonde head. “Like, what’s he sulking about?”

  “He has a favorite song he likes to hear over and over again. We just haven’t played it yet. So he sulks.”

  Too bloody right I sulk. I didn’t get to dance. No, not me. And nobody wanted to buy me one of those great Jack Daniels things. Just bloody beer, mate. I bet you had something to do with that. Hmmm, didnya? Yeah, well you think you’ve seen me sulk before, Skeet. Watch this!

  “Aww c’mon, mate, don’t do that. Jesus. H. Christ, Cyril, ya makin’ a spectacle of yourself.”

  Cyril had flipped over completely and lay on his back, holding his four legs straight up.

  The women around him began laughing, “Oh, he’s so cute. Why don’t you play his song for him, Skeet?” asked Lana.