Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  “That was forever ago.”

  “What the heck is redonkulous?”

  She shrugged. “It’s like a cross between ridiculous and asinine. Ridiculous didn’t sound strong enough to fit the way I felt at that moment.”

  “Like flustrated, and where did you get creepazoid?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the only one who says that.” She turned to face him. “What about you? What’s with you calling every single person in the world by something other than their name?”

  “What do you mean?” He played dumb.

  “You refused to call me Rhees for weeks. You call Mitchell, Mitch, Shannon, Shanni, Shelli, Shell, Taylor, Taye . . . I actually thought Dobbs’ name was really Dobbs! I just found out, like two days ago, that his name is Bartholomew Dobbson . . . until you came to the island.”

  “Dobbs is so much cooler, don’t you think? Bartholomew! Really? Who names their kid Bartholomew, for crying out loud?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” She couldn’t help her giggle. “How about the way you say certain words sometimes? Nawt! Hawt! Whawt?” she mocked.

  He feigned hurt feelings. “You don’t like my accent?”

  “I love your accent, but you don’t say it like that every time.”

  He looked like he had to decide whether he wanted to explain it or not.

  “My dad’s from LA, the stereotypical surf bum, before he got all executive on us. My mom is from Bawston. As kids, Pete, Mare, and I noticed that even though they were from opposite ends of the country, they both said certain words the same. We started out just poking fun at them, but I guess it became a habit.”

  “Wait. Your brother is Peter, you’re Paul, and your sister is Mary?” She sounded skeptical. “Are you kidding me? And you’re ridiculing Dobbs’ parents for their choice of baby names?”

  Paul looked taken aback, thoughtful. “No one’s picked up on that for a long time.” It dawned on him why. He hadn’t talked about his family for such a long time. “What can I say? I was a little young to be offering my expert advice on the matter. How do you even know about them? Peter, Paul, and Mary were more our parents’ generation.”

  “Exactly. My parents listened to them all the time. We need a new law requiring parents to check with you before they can officially name their kids. It could be the, Don’t Name Your Kids Stupid Names Bureau, or something.” She giggled. “My parents could have used some help with that, too. Danarya. Blech!”

  He rattled his head. “I love Danarya!”

  “Watch it there, buddy.” She stopped walking and tilted her head at him with a mocking smirk. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear you say that out of context.”

  It took him a second. “Oh.” It sunk in a little more. “Oh!” They both laughed and then they were quiet for a second.

  “I know you’re so much more intelligent than I am, but sometimes it’s too easy to mess you up.”

  “Don’t say that.” He frowned. “Let’s not talk about messing each other up.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He cocked his head to the side and looked away. “Because my buddies and I say that—it means something different to me. I don’t want to be reminded of that around you.” His expression brightened. “And yeah, I turn into a complete imbecile around you, because you’re such a ball-buster.” He started laughing and put his hands up, pretending to defend himself against an anticipated attack. She obliged by swatting his arm before they resumed walking.

  “Claire is just about the only one you haven’t found a pet name for.” Rhees started the conversation where they’d left off.

  “Claire is nawt my pet!”

  His pronunciation choice made her giggle again. “Oh, you love Claire. I know you act like you don’t, but you do.”

  “Nope.” He drawled on the word and let the P pop on his lips.

  “I know I can be gullible, but that’s one I’ll never believe.” She raised her brow at him, skeptically.

  oOo

  “You’re in for a surprise.” Tracy waggled her eyebrows, suggestively, at Paul, making him feel a little uncomfortable.

  “Dare I ask why?”

  “Some of the girls convinced Rhees to wax, Brazilian.” She smiled, too excitedly, and waggled her eyebrows again. Tracy’s absence of an information filter left him aghast. “You’ll be surprised tonight.”

  “Uh . . .” He didn’t know what to say. “It would have been a better surprise if you hadn’t said anything.”

  Tracy just smiled, completely oblivious, and walked off. Paul saw Rhees come around the corner, surrounded by Regina and a group of his old standbys, and he about died.

  “Shit.”

  When the girls made their way to the deck, Paul slipped an arm around Rhees’ waist and kissed her more passionately than he usually did, even in public.

  “Hey, Baby.” He smiled at Rhees and then at the other girls. “I need to borrow my girl. I didn’t know she’d left, and now I have to make up for the time I’ve missed with her.” He dragged her off to the bathroom.

  “Paul?” Rhees’ voice sounded shaky and nervous. “What are you doing?”

  He closed the door and stared at her for a minute. “Can you please tell me why you left the shop without saying anything to me?” He finally found his voice, the one that wouldn’t sound as frustrated as he felt. She went a little pale.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I was too embarrassed about where we were headed.”

  He huffed out a humorless laugh. “And why would you be headed to embarrass yourself?”

  “I don’t want to tell you. It’s kind of personal. I’d hoped I could be back before you noticed and I’d never have to explain.”

  Another breathy laugh. “Word of advice? If you don’t want me to know something, don’t take Tracy along.”

  “Oh, crap.” Rhees paled even more and dived into an explanation. “I didn’t want to do it! I stupidly mentioned I never have and the girls were shocked. They were all talking about how much you liked it—I didn’t know what to say when they asked why I didn’t wax for you.”

  “Rhees, Baby.” He let out a long and quiet growl, venting his frustration. “The last thing I need is to be thinking about what you got going on down there.” He scrubbed his face, hoping to wipe away some of the tension, before he noticed her eyes welling up. “Aw!” he groaned. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.” He pulled her to his chest and hugged her sympathetically. “I’ll fix it. Nothing like this will happen again . . . And for the record, I’ve never been picky about that.”

  oOo

  Once Rhees assured him she was okay and she’d settled at the computer to work on Dailies, Paul headed out in search of the Coitus Club girls. He couldn’t believe he’d started calling them that in his head. He thought “the club” would have disbanded by now. Dorene and Krista were the only ones left from the native group, but there were still other past partners from around the island who continued to hang out at Paradise.

  He didn’t mind people from the island hanging out at his shop, people tended to do that, but he didn’t understand why this particular group of girls couldn’t seem to find another topic of discussion—one that didn’t include him and his sex life—past sex life.

  “Hi Paul,” Maya said with a wink as he approached. The girls sat in the shade of the gazebo. They all watched him expectantly, and he understood they thought he’d just discovered Rhees’ surprise.

  “Hey.” He tipped his chin in greeting, but looked them over. “I have a question for you,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Sure,” a couple of them answered as they perked up with anticipation.

  “How many of you have I had a monogamous relationship with?” His question let the wind out of their sails. They sat, silently watch
ing him, waiting for what else he’d have to say. “That’s right. I’d say Rhees is the only one qualified to be handing out advice about what I like and don’t like. And me, of course—I know what I like better than anyone.” He paused for effect. “I like Rhees.” He paused again, taking the time to look each and every one of them in the eye.

  “I like everything about her—just the way she is. You girls have a nice day,” he said as he walked off.

  oOo

  “Paul, Paul!” Claire came running from the office, toward Paul and Rhees, as they sat in the gazebo sharing lunch. Paul braced himself for bad news. “We need to find a Japanese instructor, fast.”

  “Why?”

  “A cruise company based in Japan just contacted me and said they saw our website. They’re thinking about adding the island to the itinerary of their Caribbean liner.”

  “Really?” Rhees asked. “I can’t believe the reach we’ve been getting lately.”

  Paul kissed her temple. “It’s all you, Babe.”

  “No.” Rhees denied it could be her marketing strategy.

  “Yes,” Claire said. “They’d be sending a luxury cruise ship with about fifty people every three months. They’re looking for a dive shop to accommodate their guests. Their only requirement is that we provide instruction in their own language.”

  Paul rattled off several sentences in Japanese, the first thing that came to mind, the words he’d used the most during his travels to Japan. Claire and Rhees stared at him.

  “You speak Japanese.” Claire sounded annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know how many small groups we could have booked?”

  “You never asked.”

  “What did you just say?” Rhees asked excitedly, watching him in awe.

  He looked down, wishing he could kick himself for opening up his past in front of her. He’d only thought of answering to Claire, but now . . . he didn’t want to answer, but refusing would only make it worse.

  “Listen up. I’m the new owner of this company. These men are here to liquidate the assets.” He waved his right hand in the air and then his left. “. . . And these men are here to break the arms and legs of any man who tries to interfere.”

  He looked at Rhees warily, wondering what she would think of him. He’d had to make a choice. Tell her the truth or endure her constant efforts to get it out of him.

  “You like to say that. Remember Fred?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever really done that—broken any arms, and, or, legs?”

  “Only my own. My leg, when I was seven. I jumped off the balcony of my second story bedroom.”

  She finally smiled, assuming he was only joking around. Paul counted his blessings she’d accepted his explanation without more details. He turned his gaze back to Claire.

  “For future reference, I also speak Italian, Irish, thanks to Mitch and Ginger, Cantonese, Malay, Kadazan—several of those dialects, and Arabic. I’m fluent in Spanish. Growing up in Florida with a Cuban nanny made that a given. I can get by in Portuguese, and French too, but I haven’t heard those enough to say I’m fluent.”

  Rhees put her arms around him and gave him a hug. “You are an amazing man, Paul Weaver. And I thought I was doing well, finally learning a little Spanish and getting the hang of the island’s version of English.” She giggled. He kissed her on the nose, noticing how she didn’t mind the way he was slowly working his way toward her lips with his little innocent kisses.

  “Get a hold of the manuals and the video in Japanese. If I read it once and listen to it, I’ll be able to teach it.” He grew wary again at the way Claire watched him. “What? I’m a fast learner.”

  Chapter 15

  Late October meant business slowed down because of hurricane season, school schedules, and whatever else made tourists not want to travel to the island that time of year. Except for The Tow’d breaking down four more times since July, life had been pretty uneventful, even peaceful, at the shop.

  “Things will have to be different,” Paul told Taylor over the phone. “If I decide to come, I’m bringing Rhees, and there will be no sharing. Do you hear me? No sharing. I swear. She’s mine and only mine.” His memories of their past Testosterfest activities made his stomach churn.

  “All right, Paul, I get it,” Taylor yelled, seasoning every sentence he spoke with tasteless words. “I don’t understand why—I thought you’d be the last man standing, but I get it. No sharing. Just come. We don’t want to do Testosterfest without you—not again. I’ll pass it along to the guys.”

  “You’d better understand. I mean it. No one touches her. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes!” Taylor yelled. “Fuck. Paul. I fucking hear you.”

  oOo

  Paul and Rhees met Taylor, David, and Bryce in the baggage claim area of the San Jose airport in Costa Rica, and their dates. They made the customary introductions, stowed their luggage in the van, and climbed in. The driver pulled from the curb and headed to the beach house.

  Just as the van pulled into the large gravel driveway, Angel, the property manager, flew from the house to greet them, excited to see them again. Paul and his friends knew the property well. They came to the beach house every year, Paul had missed a few, but neither Rhees nor the other girls had ever been there.

  Angel waved for them to follow him inside. They walked into a very large living area with a high, vaulted ceiling. A dining table, big enough to seat twelve people, a conversation area with several couches set in a square, and a pool table, weren’t enough to fill the room. Several enclosed rooms lined both sides of the gigantic space.

  To the left, a long breakfast bar lined with eight stools, divided the living area from the kitchen, and beyond that, a well-stocked bar with more stools, hugged the wall.

  On the right, double glass doors revealed a media room complete with an oversized flat screen television hanging on the wall between four smaller versions, two on each side of the larger one. A long set of shelves under the televisions contained various game consoles with an array of games and movies on DVD. A large overstuffed sectional couch wrapped the remaining walls, offering maximum comfort while using the room.

  Large floor to ceiling windows lined the next room on the right, displaying an office filled with computers, printers, and any gadget a guest might need to conduct business, long distance. A wide set of stairs, also to the right, led up to a railed wrap-around walkway, which connected four master suites, two on each side of the living area below. The rustic décor gave the impression of a log cabin but with luxurious amenities.

  Glass windows and doors filled the entire back wall, showcasing the magnificent view of the ocean. Angel pushed a button and the glass doors began sliding themselves to the sides and into a pocket in the wall. The room opened out, first into a spacious screened room, and then to a giant outdoor deck with Cabanas lining both sides. At the end, in the middle, a sparkling pool gave the illusion it spilled over the edge, into the ocean.

  A beautiful property, built with basic and simple materials, but luxurious at the same time, the house sat in a secluded section of beach with no visible neighbors and surrounded by jungle.

  “Like it? Think you’ll be happy here the next few days?” Paul sounded concerned about Rhees.

  “Lo siento!” Angel said in Spanish. “My wife’s sister is ill. Loretta can’t cook for you. She had to go to Puntarenas to take care of her dying sister. I’m afraid I haven’t found a new cook. The pantry is full, but I have no one to cook for you. My daughters will clean, but they don’t know how to cook.”

  The only ones in the group who didn’t speak Spanish happened to be Rhees and Liz, so Paul and Taylor translated for their dates in hushed tones as Angel explained the problem.

  Paul stood behind Rhees, holding her protectively, as if needing to make a statement,
or a claim. She pulled out of his arms and he watched as she wandered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge. Stocked for an army, her facial expression demonstrated how the contents impressed her. She opened the pantry and again made the same face. The kitchen was laid out like a commercial restaurant, a large gas range with double ovens, a large industrial sink, two bread makers, two microwaves . . . who couldn’t make due in this kitchen?

  “I can cook,” she announced.

  Paul shot her a killer glance.

  “Don’t look at me like that. There’s plenty of food. I can do this, piece of cake.”

  David’s date, Ashley, balked. “I didn’t come a thousand miles to eat macaroni and cheese.”

  “Mac and cheese is Rhees’ specialty.” The defensive tone in Paul’s voice was as impossible to miss as Ashley’s insult.

  “I knew it.” Ashley rolled her eyes with a groan. “This was supposed to be a luxury getaway, but of course, it’s turned into a disaster!” She slapped David’s arm, as if it was her date’s fault.

  “I can’t promise gourmet,” Rhees said, “I’m not a trained chef, but I know how to cook—I like to cook. I can, at least, make sure no one starves.”

  Ashley turned to David. “This is not what you promised. You said we’d have a professional cook.”

  “Who knew this would come up?” David looked helpless. “Come on, Ash.”

  “I would rather eat out.”

  Paul rolled his eyes.

  “How many restaurants did you see on the way here?” David asked. “This is a remote area. We’d be in the car all day if we tried to eat out, and delivery isn’t an option.”

  Ashley folded her arms and pouted an obvious, obnoxious pout. David tried to put his arms around her, but she brushed him away, giving him a dirty, don’t even think about it, look.

  “Okay then. It looks like I’m cooking,” Rhees said.

  “Rhees, this is supposed to be your vacation,” Paul objected.