by Duggan, C. J
“You can’t just walk in off the street and ask for a massage.” I frowned.
“Why not?” Chris asked in all seriousness.
“Because you can’t.”
“Well, it’s worth a try; we have some hours to kill. Don’t you want a massage?” He pulled the van back out onto the road, indicating a turn into the expansive driveway.
“Not at the risk of getting laughed out of the reception.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
It was the equivalent to a slap in the face, and my blood boiled at his ignorance.
“The fact that you’re a part owner of a hotel mean it’s absolutely mind boggling that you don’t get how wrong you are,” I argued.
Chris defiantly steered into the driveway, the thrumming sounds of the V8 engine echoing as we drove under the resort’s sweeping awning.
We so didn’t belong here. I wanted to shrink into my seat.
“You are so embarrassing.” I smiled politely at the doorman who tried not to look over our car with judgemental eyes.
Chris killed the engine. “How about this: if you’re right and they turn me away, I’ll give you a massage. But if they say ‘Of course, Mr Henderson, welcome to Point Shank Beach Resort, please follow me to your masseur,’ then you have to give me a massage on top of my massage.” He held out his hand.
He thought he was so clever.
I straightened in my seat. “I am going to so look forward to that massage.” I took his hand and yanked it with all my strength.
“Deal.”
We both exited the car, offering each other knowing smirks. For someone who ran a business he really didn’t have a clue. The doorman opened the door for us.
“Good afternoon,” he smiled brightly.
Chris stopped next to him. “Tell me something…” His eyes lowered to the man’s name badge. “Graham, do you offer massages here?”
Graham nodded animatedly. “Oh yes, sir, we have a very luxurious day spa.”
Chris flashed me a bright white smile. “Excellent.”
I rolled my eyes and followed Chris through the door that Graham held open for us.
The first thing that hit me was the chill of the powerful air conditioning, followed by the high, cathedral-style ceilings with luxurious chandeliers that cast a bright glow across the reception’s polished surfaces and the reflective gloss of the marble tiles.
Chris and I stood in the middle of the massive reception area: me in my denim shorts, singlet and bird’s nest-like hair; Chris in his white T and cargos. We definitely didn’t belong here, although you wouldn’t have thought it by all the warm smiles every passing member of staff gave us.
We were called up to the main desk, something I was both dreading and looking forward to.
“Welcome to Point Shank Beach Resort, how can I help?” An immaculately kept woman, hair slicked back in a shiny bun, with bright red lipstick, bright sparkling eyes and a figure to die for flashed a winning smile. She made me feel like a gutter rat as I self-consciously tucked a stray hair into place.
“I was just wondering, we have just arrived in Point Shank and we’re looking for a place we could get a massage. We have been on the road for three days and had some time to kill and thought we might try our luck.” Chris had spoken every word with a sexy grin across his face as he looked Wonder Woman directly in the eyes and pleaded his sad case.
I sighed, amazed at how easily he could turn on the charm when he wanted. More importantly, I braced myself for the answer. The answer that I knew would come, and it did.
I saw it the second her head tilted and her high-wattage smile dimmed a little. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, but the facilities are reserved for guests only.”
Yes!
I grinned so broadly I almost wanted to break out into a dance, chanting, “I told you so, I told you so.”
Chris’s smile evaporated. He shifted uneasily as he glanced at my big, toothy grin with annoyance. Wonder Woman’s eyes passed from Chris to me, probably thinking we were a pair of weirdos, but her professionalism never faltered, not once.
He cleared his throat. “I see.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with today, sir? Maybe help yourself to some brochures on the local establishments.”
“No, that’s okay. Actually, um, there is something else you can help me with.”
Chris pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, taking out a white square piece of paper and unfolding it.
Ugh, he was probably asking for directions to our site. I yawned, folding my arms, and admired the decadent display of flowers sitting on the marbled desk.
Chris slid the paper over. “We have a booking for a party of nine, under Sean Murphy.”
WHAT?
I spun around so quickly I almost knocked over the massive flower arrangement.
“What did you just say?” I breathed.
Chris smiled, reached out, and swept a loose tendril of hair out of the way of my wild, shocked eyes.
“Welcome to Point Shank.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
We followed the porter down a long, carpeted corridor.
I half expected a camera crew to appear from behind a pot plant, announcing I was on candid camera. My eyes skimmed every angle of the luxury digs.
“Are you okay?” asked Chris as he walked by my side.
My mouth gaped as I tried to summon the words; I had been stunned into silence since Chris had booked us in. After his massage ruse I feared I would never believe another word he said.
“What are we doing here?” I laughed, my insides twisting with giddiness every step we took down the hall.
“We thought that seeing as you girls would be roughing it to get here the least we could do would be to end the trip with a bit of luxury. It was Sean’s idea.”
“Do the others know?”
“The boys do. We wanted it to be a surprise; I think it’s been the most difficult secret to keep in the history of mankind.”
Chris looked at the room key card he held in his hand. “Here’s your room.”
I danced on the balls of my feet as Chris tipped the porter to leave the luggage. Chris couldn’t open the door quickly enough. He slid the key card into the slot and the magical green light flashed in unison with Chris’s smile.
“You ready?”
“Open-open-open!” I clapped.
There is always that moment of wonder when you enter a spectacular room, and after three nights sleeping in the back of a panel van, the apartment I stepped into was as luxurious to me as the Taj Mahal. Glossy white tiles, sleek, modern and massive. I ran from room to room turning on lights, inspecting cupboards and announcing every discovery.
“There’s a spa! This one’s got an en suite …Whoa, check out the kitchen!”
There were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a huge open living space, a dining room and a sliding wall of glass that led out onto a balcony overlooking the ocean.
I pressed myself against the glass. “Oh my God, Chris!”
I turned to see him watching me with a glimmer of amusement as he set our bags down. “You approve?”
Did I approve? I had expected the pits of fiery hell, not a clean, crisp paradise.
“I so approve,” I said, running over to him and throwing my arms around his neck.
I looked up into Chris’s eyes. “It’s a fantastic surprise.”
Chris sobered as he studied the lines of my face; his eyes flicked to my mouth for such a brief second that I almost missed it. He still held me, his hand resting on my lower back. I so wanted to kiss him. My eyes strayed to his mouth, not caring if he caught the unmistakable moment of distraction. He had a beautiful mouth that did wicked things, and although last night had probably meant nothing more than just a bit of fun, I really wanted to do it again.
“I think you’re forgetting one thing,” he said, causing my eyes to snap back up to his.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Chris leaned forward,
his lips brushed against my ear and I felt my skin tingle.
“Running. Hot. Water.”
***
Reclining in the huge, blistering hot corner spa with my hair completely caked in so much conditioner it was pure white, I channel flicked through my TV.
Yeah. There was totally a TV in the bathroom. I had changed it onto the music channel where Cindy Lauper was crooning ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’.
Yeah, they did!
I bit a chunk out of the strawberry that was wedged on the side of my champagne glass, like any classy chick would, and mused how very Julia Roberts this all was, à la Pretty Woman. Minus the whole being a paid escort thing, of course.
I had emerged from the bathroom wrapped in large white towels, one around me and one around my head.
“Chris?” I called down the hall. He’d said he would be back in five, that he was going to check out the others’ apartments, but I had definitely been in the bathroom for longer than that and expected him to be in the lounge where the TV had been left blaring.
“Hello?” I looked around the apartment.
There was a notepad and pen left on the kitchen bench.
I spun it around, reading Chris’s neat handwriting.
Check the main bedroom.
I read it over three times, every time my heart rate elevating and the same insecure girl clawing her way to the surface, turning me into a puddle of nerves. I took in a deep breath and made my way up the hall to the master bedroom, clasping my towel around me tightly before remembering the turban-esque wrap on top of my hair.
Shit! Not a good look.
I unwrapped it from my head and scurried back to the bathroom, throwing it onto the floor. I quickly wiped the foggy mirror and checked my complexion. I ran my brush through my hair before bending over and flicking it back and forth two to three times for that natural, tousled look.
“Okay,” I sighed, looking at my reflection and giving myself a pep talk. “Let’s go.”
The walk down the hall was so incredibly long. The downlights lit the tiles that were cool underfoot. Of course, the main bedroom door was last. I stopped at the door and took a deep breath before I grabbed the gold handle, twisting and pushing it open.
I paused in the doorway, firstly confused until I switched the light on, illuminating the room and causing me to burst out into laughter. I cupped my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound of hysterics as I edged closer to the bed, hardly believing what was laid out on the bed.
No, it wasn’t Chris like I had hoped; instead lay a plush, fluffy white robe, the kind Chris had spoken about. I bit my lip, and shook my head. He was turning out to be quite the practical joker.
***
By the time Chris had returned, I was on the rather generous balcony in my fluffy robe, enjoying the ocean views. I heard him enter and smiled to myself, keeping my focus on the waves.
“Nice robe,” he said as he settled in the seat beside me.
“What, this old thing?” I tugged at the neatly tied bow.
“Feel better?”
“Almost human.”
“Well, enjoy the serenity while you can; the others are on their way. I just spoke to Sean on the phone.”
I shifted upright in my seat. “How’s Ringer?”
Chris smirked. “According to the staff at outpatients, he is a complete pain in the arse, so, yeah, sounds normal to me. He got eight stitches.”
“Are they still coming?”
“Yeah, they’re on their way, too, but they won’t get here till later tonight.”
“Well, we will have to make a big fuss over him when he arrives.”
“Yeah, he’ll hate every minute of that,” Chris said with a laugh. “I hope you bagsed the best room?”
“Indeed I have: master bedroom with en suite.” I beamed.
Chris grimaced. “Ellie won’t like that.”
And with that, all good humour evaporated. “Who’s staying in this apartment?”
Chris watched me with interest. “You, Ellie, Toby and Tess, I think. Sean and Amy are sharing with Bel and Stan, and I’m shacked up with Ringer and Adam. Why?”
I’d had no idea that paradise could turn into hell in the span of two seconds, but it just had. Me, Ellie, Toby and Tess all sharing the same apartment? Now that’s what you called a Love Shack.
Chris touched my knee. “Tam? What’s wrong?”
I looked at him, his eyes narrowed in concern. How could I tell him? How could I complain when all the boys had done their adorable best to surprise us all? How could I be so ungrateful as to complain about my roomies? But how could I also expect myself to cohabitate with them, knowing what I knew?
I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t live with the very people I was aiming to confront, whose lives I was potentially going to destroy. I couldn’t. Not even for just one night.
“Can I stay with you?” I blurted out. “Or can you stay here? Or I don’t, I just want, or rather … stay, please?” I was pathetic, a rambling idiot and I half expected Chris’s expression to reflect as such, but it didn’t. Instead, his dark, broody stare narrowed in a steely gaze.
“Who do you want moved?” he asked, his words dripping with icy intent.
I broke from his gaze. “Ellie,” I said lowly, looking down at my hands, almost ashamed I was asking without telling him why.
After a long, drawn-out moment, he said, “Okay.”
Without another word or, like always, never even wanting to know the reason why, Chris got up from his chair and left me on the balcony, his footsteps disappearing down the hall before finally I heard the sound of the apartment door.
What must he think of me?
Chapter Fifty
I couldn’t even bear to be wearing my robe anymore.
I felt like an utter coward, an ungrateful coward. I wanted to go and pound on Chris’s door and blab everything. Tell him exactly why I had wanted to leave without the others, why I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ellie, but that, above all, the one constant in this whole trip was the complete, unexpected joy of the past three days with him. The person I had nearly made love to last night; the one I still wanted to. And I didn’t want to give him up.
I paced the up and down the hall, plagued by the actual problem of not knowing where the boys’ apartment was. Of all the times to have the sudden compulsion to confess everything, it had to be the rare moment that Chris wasn’t around.
I figured I could find out where he was at reception, so grabbed my key card. I marched for the front door and slammed right into Chris with a yelp. He grabbed my elbows to steady me and I clutched at my chest in surprise.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I breathed out, my heart throbbing in my chest.
“You were kind of preoccupied,” he said, throwing his key card on the bench.
“Chris, I have to tell you something.” I wrung my hands anxiously together.
His gaze burned into me so intently I almost forgot what I was meant to be saying.
He shook his head slightly. “Don’t.”
I was the one now staring intently at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t tell me,” he said.
“Well, you don’t know what I have to tell you.”
“Is it about you?” he asked.
“Well, no, not really.”
“Is it about me?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t want to know.”
Wow.
So much for the pep talk and making myself feel better. I had anticipated pouring my heart and soul out to him, and he would reassure me that no matter what, everything would be okay. There may have been some embracing and heavy pashing in my daydream, too.
But, instead, he had said, “I don’t want to know.”
I felt a bit gobsmacked, and, to be honest, a bit pissed off.
“Wow, thanks, great pep talk,” I said, coolly brushing past him before stopping just before the hallway.
I turned back around
to face him. “Do you trust Toby?”
Chris’s gaze was so piercing, so intimidating I almost wished I had never asked.
“With my life.”
He didn’t even think about his answer. It was an honest one. Was the bro code blind to all things? I wasn’t sure and I wouldn’t find out – not from Chris, anyway.
Soon the others would be here and our time alone would come to an end as we were engulfed by the loud, excited reunion.
I would go back to being on the outer – more so than ever now, as I felt so uncomfortable and awkward around Ellie and Tess. Although things hadn’t automatically been awkward from first thing this morning, things would be heading in that direction, and I didn’t know how to claw my way back.
***
There was no better way of killing time than drawing the blinds and falling into the welcoming abyss of sleep, nestled on top of a queen-sized bed. The utter bliss of allowing my tense muscles to melt into the soft mattress was exactly what I needed. What I didn’t need, however, was to be jolted awake by a loud scream and slammed into by a large flying weight that bounced up and down on the bed beside me.
“OH MY GOD, TAMMY!!!!”
Bounce-bounce-bounce.
Amy?
The light switch flicked on-off-on-off-on before another body sailed through the air and slammed onto the mattress, singing horribly out of tune.
Off the Florida Keys
There’s a place called Kokomo
That’s where you want to go
To get away from it all …
Sean.
“Get off!” I pushed them away but it was like pushing at two boulders.
Amy dropped on her side, laughing like a maniac; Sean still lay across my legs, pinning me to the mattress.
“Not bad, huh?” He smiled.
I shook my head. “You’re a crafty devil, Sean Murphy.”
“Indeed,” he said, getting up off the bed. “My job here is done – you’re awake.” He dusted his hands and disappeared out of the door.