by Ashley Munoz
Once the kids were sitting and distracted, I pulled my friend away from the kitchen. “Look, you’re right. I hate being reminded of it, but you are. I don’t know how to move past him. It’s been ten years…” I shrugged pathetically. “Ten years, and still when I close my eyes and think about my future, it’s his face that I see. I don’t know why. It’s embarrassing because that ship has sailed…yet, I’m still stuck on that beach watching for him to return.”
Shay’s eyes softened, a single tear slipping free while I confessed my most shameful truth.
“Honey, maybe you aren’t supposed to leave that beach. I don’t understand it, but maybe it’s a different sailor you’re supposed to meet?” She returned my shrug, pulling me into a tight hug.
I wrapped my arms around her, wishing I could blink away the pain.
“You’re going to be late for your first day—better go get ready.” Shay laughed through a steady stream of tears. I disentangled myself from her, swiping at my face.
“You’re right, I better go get into my khakis.” I smiled, waiting for her face to draw up in disgust.
“Don’t even start about those things. It’s a sin to make you wear them.” She waved her hand around, scrunching her nose.
I laughed, heading toward my bedroom to get ready for work.
The first thing I realized when I was handed my ‘uniform’ and clocked in was that I had been lied to. Judy was a liar. I found this out when I was introduced to my new coworkers and new supervisor, all of which had just recently graduated high school.
That’s correct. My acting shift supervisor was only eighteen, and her senior picture was tacked on the bulletin board I passed to clock in that afternoon.
I had always been an easygoing person, never quick to judge, never too offendable. It was part of why Shay and I were best friends. If I had been a sensitive person who shook easily, that girl would have broken me a long damn time ago. But this…this was a lot to take in, and possibly too much.
“So, just to be clear…there’s not a specific position for customer service agent?” I eyed the counter and the line of families donning swimwear. My supervisor was ringing up a pair of water wings while I watched over her shoulder.
“Not exactly…I mean, we just help whoever needs help.” She tilted her head toward the line of people while smacking her gum.
“So…we’re just a gift shop…with a gym and a pool?” I looked around, still trying to figure out how I’d been duped into an entry-level job for which the average age of applicants was sixteen. Fucking hell, I’d known this sort of shit was likely to happen; it had to be karma for lying on my resume.
“We have tennis courts too!” Sondra perked up, letting her long hair sway over her shoulder. “Oh, and this newly renovated steam room.”
“But…uh…the customer service part?” I blanched as the line grew and a young guy, likely eighteen as well, ran toward them with his surfer hair and his still semi-acne-covered face.
“I can get you guys checked in out here,” he called toward the families.
“Just whoever needs help in general…sometimes people get frustrated if they can’t get a pool spot,” Sondra said, flipping the page over on the clipboard in her hand.
My heart sank. This wasn’t at all what Judy and I had talked about. The woman who’d hired me had left for the day right as my shift began, so I was handed two t-shirts that I was told were my standard uniform: neon pink and neon green fabric with white lettering that said “Aquatic Specialist” on the back. After I used the public bathroom to change, I was told Sondra would be training me.
“Looks like the locker rooms need to be cleaned,” she said, handing me a spray bottle. I looked down at the offending object, wondering why she was handing it to me. There were at least five kids walking around in uniforms, none of them over the age of twenty…why was she handing me the bottle?
“Uh, I think I’ll go over whatever training material you have. Is there a binder, maybe a video I need to watch?” Maybe that would make me feel better about my supposed position.
Sondra shoved the bottle at me again with a genuine smile. “Silly, that’s a part of what we do here. We clean every three hours—the gym, the locker rooms, the pool chairs…and tons of other stuff.”
Wait…what?
“But, I didn’t…” I tried to explain, but then someone had a question, pulling Sondra away. I had to be at my new job for another five hours, and if I didn’t take the freaking bottle, what was I supposed to do with my shift? Also, I didn’t exactly want to lose this job. I mean…the hours were so flexible. The pay rate wasn’t too bad either. I wasn’t salaried, but it also wasn’t minimum wage.
Begrudgingly, I took the bottle and got to work. My khaki shorts were not a flattering style or cut, so every time I bent down, I had to adjust them when I stood. Same with the awkward t-shirt uniform I was wearing, and why on earth was it so hot in the locker rooms? And holy hell, how many towels could a person use? Why was it so difficult for them to drop the towel in the canvas bag labeled Towel Drop, a mere two feet from the place they dropped it?
By the time I was done cleaning both locker rooms, I was gritting my teeth. I trudged back up the small staircase toward the front of the building, where the gift shop was. Fifty-dollar sweatshirts, four-dollar ice cream bars, and five-dollar pool floaties adorned the shop. I let out a silent sigh as I watched a family of five load up on at least seven ice cream bars, five waters, three candy bars, two bags of chips, and three sweatshirts.
My eyes nearly bugged out at the total. The irony was that I couldn’t afford the things these rich people bought, but my eighteen-year-old coworkers likely could…at least according to what they each said to one another. Most of the kids had this job because their grandparents were owners on the other side of the resort. Many of them had gotten brand new cars as graduation gifts too.
“You’re doing great,” Sondra said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Humility was best served from the mouth of babes…wasn’t that a saying or something?
“Thanks. What’s next?” I dared to ask, knowing there would be more to clean.
“The weight room needs to be done,” Sondra explained, looking over her checklist again.
“Okay, so vacuuming, or…?” I trailed off, unsure of what she meant. Her wince wasn’t encouraging.
“The new health code requires that we clean every piece of equipment.”
Shit.
Grabbing a new pair of gloves, I headed upstairs, not caring that literally no one else was cleaning anything. They were children—babies, really. What was I going to do, get mad?
No, I wouldn’t, because I was an adult. I would do this job and do it well.
3
“Where are you this week?” my mother asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of just going through the motions like my dad did.
“I’m taking a break for two months. We just finished filming,” I said, hoping Henna didn’t walk upstairs.
My mother didn’t like her, and I didn’t exactly blame her. Henna had been featured in the most dubious tabloids over the last few years. She was snarky, rude, and fit every stereotype that existed about rich heiresses behaving like spoiled, entitled brats. I was only with her because those were the kind of women I liked; I knew what I was getting with them. No surprises, no expectations.
“A break? That’s wonderful…any chance you might head this way during some of that time?” My mother tried to play it off as though it wasn’t a big deal to her, but I knew she cared very much whether I came to visit. I tried to go back home every chance I got, which lately hadn’t been often. In fact, it had been at least ten months since I last saw them in person.
“Actually, I’m coming there for a little visit. Just a week or so, but, uh…Henna is coming with me,” I added gently, so she knew we wouldn’t be staying with them. I wanted to, but since Henna already insisted on tagging along with me on this break, I knew it wouldn’t be possible
.
“Oh…” She trailed off.
I appreciated that she didn’t blow smoke up my ass about how Henna was welcome and all that. We both knew Henna wasn’t welcome there, which was fine by me; I didn’t want her around the two people who were most important to me. I liked Henna just fine, but I thought of her more as a sexy, very temporary roommate. We weren’t even technically dating, just ‘seeing each other,’ nonexclusively, which was another reason my mother didn’t like her. She always said any woman who was willing to share me wasn’t worth keeping around.
“It’s fine, Mom. We’ll stay somewhere close and I’ll come visit you as much as I can.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll tell your dad.” My mom laughed softly, and I could nearly feel that soft sound in my bones from how many times she’d made it in my life.
“See you in about a week.” I hung up, tossing my cell into a nearby chair.
Looking out my window, I shoved my hands into my sweatshirt. It was technically the middle of summer, but in Portland, Oregon, the temperature was often tempered by the clouds and rain that so often invaded our skies.
“Ryan?” Henna called for me, walking up the stairs, her off-the-shoulder black sweater dress swaying as she climbed them.
“In here.” I stayed glued to my spot, watching the vast forest outside my bedroom window.
“I made a reservation for us close to your parents.”
I turned, surprised that she’d do something so thoughtful.
“Where?” I walked over to her, pulling her into my chest and kissing her shoulder.
“Some place, I don’t know the name…Hawk something Resort…or something like that,” she said breathlessly.
Hawk Tail Resort wasn’t close to my parents; in fact, it was nearly forty minutes from them. I was hoping to be closer so I could go back and forth frequently. I supposed it didn’t really matter as long as Henna had something to do while I was visiting them.
“You don’t normally do that kind of thing. You always have someone do it for you—why the sudden change?” I asked, gently gripping her hip. Her hair was dark, thick, and…the wrong color.
Maybe it was time to switch things up with someone else. I had a few hook-ups I’d call to spend time with me, just like Henna. She was usually my summer connection. I knew saying something like that made me sound like a shallow prick, but it was just how I lived my life. I was always filming for several months out of the year and didn’t have a ton of time for a real relationship—nor did I ever want one again. If someone on set wanted a fling, I’d indulge as long as an NDA was signed.
But, more often than not, I’d find my steady hook-ups among A-listers, heiresses, and models. I had Lydia, who I saw when I was on the East Coast and usually in the fall. Samantha was more my winter hook-up; I saw her when I went to Aspen for vacation. Spring was usually spent with someone new, and then there was Henna, my longest-standing hook-up.
Two years on and off again I’d been with her. It confused anyone who stuck around long enough to care, but there weren’t many people in my life who did. My agents, my PA, my publicist, and, depending on the show, the director…but even then, those few people were limited. The only person who had been around long enough to care knew the score. My best friend, James—or Jack Hammer, as I called him—had known me since college and would check in from time to time to call me on my shallow-as-fuck bullshit lifestyle.
He’d had my back from the beginning when I signed on to an up-and-coming football drama for HitFlix. It was a shot in the dark after my short-lived football career in Seattle. Thinking back to my days playing pro football made the strangest sensation start up inside my chest, like an ache or a burn. I had been signed my junior year of college, giving up my degree to play in the PFA, also known as the Professional Football Association.
“I just wanted to help.” Henna hummed in my ear before nipping it with her teeth. I’d nearly forgotten she was even there or that I had asked her anything.
She never wanted to help, so I knew something was up, or she was planning something.
Her small hands wound their way down my waist while she marked my chest with her lips and teeth. My mind was still on that stinging sensation in my chest that started to flare to life, lingering on what had happened when I signed that football contract.
The devastation…
Before I knew what was happening, Henna was on her knees in front of me, tugging down my sweats.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she whispered, looking up at me.
I watched, unsure if I should mention that I’d rather read my tax documents than have her blow me. If I told her that or shoved her off, it would be a nightmare dealing with her. I could just break this thing off and tell her to stay here or go somewhere else while I vacationed, but knowing her, I’d have to deal with some negative press piece about it and then deal with the backlash of photographers and the media sticking their nose into my business. I wouldn’t do that to my parents.
No, it was better to just put up with her for now, bide my time, and after I went to visit my parents and Henna got her vacation in, I’d tell her we were done.
Letting out a silent sigh, I shoved my hand into her hair and pulled her closer.
4
I couldn’t move my legs. The muscles in my calves and the tendons in my feet protested any kind of functionality, which was a problem because I had kids to take care of, a day job to complete, and another shift to work later that night.
The gym, which I’d had to clean twice the previous night, was massive, with at least fifty pieces of equipment from corner to corner. After that, I’d wiped down and organized the pool chairs—seventy-five, to be exact. Then it was back to the locker rooms to start the rotation over again. I was exhausted…flat-out, plain exhausted.
“Mommy?!” Bella yelled from the top of the stairs.
Her bedroom was up in the loft along with her brother’s, as well as a shared bathroom. When we’d bought the house, it had been put in both our names, and since Logan had wanted to build his new life in Portland, he’d left it to me.
“I’m coming,” I yelled back, gingerly moving out of bed.
“You are home!” Bella yelled, like she’d just made a huge discovery. I hadn’t gotten in until nearly ten thirty. Shay had been up watching Grey’s Anatomy and went home as soon as I hugged her and thanked her for sitting.
Standing and shuffling—nearly crawling—I headed out of my bedroom. “Yes, I’m home.” I blinked against the light streaming through the tall windows on our second story.
“Yay!” Bella ran downstairs with her pink slippers on her feet and her princess pajamas on her little body, golden curls bouncing as she made her way to me.
Near the last step, she jumped into my arms, forcing me to falter backward.
“Whoa…Mommy isn’t so good with being jumped on right now.”
“Sorry.” Bella softened, sliding down to the floor.
“Have fun last night?” I asked, holding her hand while we headed into the kitchen.
“Yeah, Auntie Shay is funny. She kept telling us stories about how once upon a time you loved a prince.”
I nearly choked on the water I had started sipping. “Wha…what?” I sputtered, coughing up a little liquid. I moved toward the Keurig, popping the pod in so I could have this conversation while caffeinated.
“She said you were going to marry him, and he was dashing and handsome, like Prince Stuff-on from Sleeping Beauty.” I held in a laugh at her pronunciation of Stefan.
“Okay…what else did she say?” The coffee gurgled as it filled my mug.
Bella twisted her lips to the side as I poured in my creamer and started sipping my cup of joe while I waited for her to answer. “Hmm, she said you woved our daddy cuz he gave us to you, but you didn’t wove him like you woved Prince Wyan.”
Now I did spit out my coffee. Brown liquid splattered the counters and dribbled down my chin.
“Ewww, Mommy, gwos
s. If you act like that, your prince will never come back to save you.” She twisted her head to the side, like that logic made the most sense ever.
“What was the name Auntie Shay told you?” I asked, trying to clarify, because if my best friend had told my daughter about Ryan, I was going to kill her.
“Pwince Wyan…or maybe it was Prince Wy-Wy? I no remember.” She shrugged, smiling up at me from the counter. Her cute little lisp was making everything so much cuter, but it didn’t erase the edge this conversation was cutting through me. “Do you member him, Mommy?” Her sparkling blue eyes glittered in the sunrays that bounced around the room.
Before I could answer, Cole came trudging in.
“Is he coming?” Cole’s eyes were blue like his sister’s, like mine, like Logan’s…but Cole’s were more of a cornflower blue, where his sister’s were like the darkest part of the ocean.
I stared into those eyes and wished so badly that I did have a prince to rescue me…to rescue us. A man to come be a father figure, someone to love these kids the way they deserved, because no matter how much love I had for my son, there was always going to be that part of him that wanted his dad to drive him to football camp.
“Let me check my phone, bud,” I muttered, ruffling his hair on my way past him.
My breath stalled in my lungs as I wished and hoped there’d be a message relaying that Logan would be here to get his son.
I unplugged the device and put in my password, only to see that there were no new messages.
Dammit.
I brought the phone up to my ear and dialed my ex’s number.
Logan never answered my calls, but I still had to try. I owed it to Cole.
Surprisingly, on the fifth ring, he picked up.
“Hello?” It was a question, like he didn’t have my number programmed into his phone. Maybe he didn’t; maybe that was the only reason he’d answered.