The California Club: LoveTravel Series - USA

by Belinda Jones

  'Um, Joel?'

  He looks bemused to still find me dressed.

  'Sorry to bother you but could you just help me get this off?' I fluster.

  'My pleasure,' he says, striding over and deftly addressing the various zips and poppers. This is not a man who ever struggles with a bra strap, I'm sure.

  He catches me looking at him in the bathroom mirror and I blush as I feel the steamy air meet my bare back.

  'Okay, that's great. Thanks. I'll be really quick.'

  'No rush,' he smiles, waiting for me to resume eye contact with him.

  I manage it for just a second before busying myself with the vital task of moving the towels from the rack to the toilet seat and setting them in a symmetrical stack.

  'You have fun!' He exits, closing the door behind him.

  It's been a while since a man undressed me so I take a moment to lean against the cool glass of the door. I feel all swimmy and succumbable, if there is such a word … Suddenly I leap back as a loud rap jolts my ear.

  'Lara?'

  I gulp. It's him again. This is more than I can stand. I think it's best if we just get this frisson over and done with before I explode. I prise open the door and give him my most seductive look.

  'I found this in the wardrobe.' He hands me a white floor-length bathrobe.

  'Oh! Fantastic! Thank you!'

  He doesn't want me naked after all. I bury my face in the robe to mask my disappointment.

  He smiles into my peeping eyes. 'See you in a while.'

  Finally I step into the shower, hoping to wash away the jumpy never-been-kissed imbecile that's taken over my body and liberate Lara the Femme Fatale.

  I emerge fifteen minutes later a good deal calmer, buried under acres of robe and wafting juniper from every pore.

  'It's a shame this isn't a health spa hotel,' I muse, perching on the end of the bed securing my matching towel turban.

  'Feel in need of a little pampering, do you?' Joel ladles on the 'poor baby' mockery.

  'No, I was just thinking they let you wear toweling robes to dinner in places like that, don't they?'

  Joel contemplates me for a moment then says, 'Well, there is one way you could get away with it.'

  I look down at my bulky fluffiness. 'Dress it up with diamanté?' I suggest, unconvinced.

  'No you fool – room service!'

  My eyes widen with glee. Right now I can't think of anything more fun.

  ‘What about Elliot?' I ask.

  'He can eat downstairs with me, like a grown-up.'

  'Oh.' My face falls.

  'Don't be silly, there's plenty of room at the table, we'll just get them to bring an extra chair. And if we wrap up we can have aperitifs on the balcony.'

  'Can we get wine and everything?'

  'Sure. I won't tell your parents if you don't,' he teases.

  I flump back on the bed, losing my turban in the process.

  'Your hair looks good wet,' he says, rescuing the towel then reaching over to tousle my damp locks.

  I look at him, wondering what it must be like to have the confidence to touch another person so easily, knowing that they'll love the sensation. So much of my pre-foreplay just goes on in my head.

  'Shall I call down to the bar and have them send up Elliot?'

  I nod, forced to rein in my imagination yet again, grateful that Joel has handed me the room service menu to focus on.

  I study it for some time. 'What are you having?' I sigh finally, unable to make a decision.

  'I'm torn between the crispy-skinned salmon and the citrus-roasted chicken.'

  'We could get both and have half each,' I venture, playing the Elise couple-order game.

  'I like your style!' he cheers, just as there's a knock at the door.

  'Just a minute!' Joel calls out. 'Put your heels back on,' he whispers to me.

  'What?' I laugh. 'With this?' I'm still in the robe.

  'Trust me. It'll just punch up the fact that you're not wearing anything under there.'

  My breathing seems to have become exaggerated. Maybe he's on to something. I slip my feet into the shoes and go from snuggly to sexy. Potentially. But then I go and spoil it all by opening the door with a big grin on my face. I'm too happy to be sexy. If Zoë could see me now!

  'Greetings!' Elliot slurs, pretty happy himself, propped on the doorframe trying to not to spill three margaritas.

  'Welcome to our humble home,' I say, relieving him of two glasses and leading him into the bedroom.

  'What's with the shoes?' he frowns.

  'Oh!' I quaver, losing my nerve. 'My feet were cold!'

  Joel rolls his eyes at me as he hands Elliot the menu. 'We need to make a swift decision before this one gets any more light-headed,' he urges.

  Elliot scans the menu. 'How about the pork T-bone with tobacco-fried onions?’

  I spare a thought for Zoë's hair as Joel says, 'Great. Why don't you two brave the balcony while I place the order and jump in the shower.'

  Elliot and I obey, trying not to mist up the view with our breathing. It's still far too cold to be out here but who am I to question my new lord and master.

  'This is weird,' Elliot notes as we gaze out over endless elongated Christmas trees. 'I'm used to being at ground level with all the grass and deer droppings and now I'm up here with the sky and the treetops!' He reaches out his hand and allows a series of slo-mo snowflakes to melt on to his pale caramel skin.

  'Beautiful, isn't it?' he sighs.

  'Mmmm,' I acquiesce. I always thought Elliot had the most elegant hands I'd seen on a man. I'd watch them flitter across a keyboard and imagine them pattering on my skin. My eyes glide up to his face. Even the distraction of Joel can't lessen the impact. Every time I look at Elliot I want to stroke his tawny hair and softly lean my cheek against his and breathe the same breath.

  Feeling my eyes upon him, Elliot lets the collected dribble of water slide from his palm into my drink.

  'There you are – bet you never had a real snowflake in a cocktail before!'

  I smile. How can I not love this man?

  'The wilderness is growing on you!' I marvel.

  'Are you crazy?' he scoffs. 'Do you know how hard it was for me not to strap myself to Joel's TV when I walked past?'

  'Are you really hating it that much?'

  'It's not so bad now you're here,' Elliot concedes. 'At least I thought …' he halts mid-sentence.

  'Yes?' I query.

  'Nothing.'

  I wait for him to continue but his mouth is clamped shut.

  I shrug and raise my glass. 'Anyway, cheers!'

  'Cheers,' he chinks. 'To …' He pauses, eyes prying deep into mine. 'What shall we drink to?'

  The question seems particularly loaded. I look at him, wondering if I'm ever going to have the nerve to tell him how I feel. Of course, now isn't the time and 'To us!' isn't going to cut it. Perhaps we should toast Mother Nature for the wonder of Yosemite. Or Helen, for bringing us here. Or Joel for rescuing us from trying to start a campfire with damp twigs.

  'To getting drunk!' I suggest uncouthly, knocking back my glass.

  'To getting drunk and the swift return of your suitcase!' he adds, downing his. 'Your feet must be killing you in those.'

  I grimace and make a mental note to ask Joel if I can borrow some socks when he gets out of the shower.

  'They look sexy though,' he adds, looking a little embarrassed.

  'Really?' I brighten, clicking my heels together like Dorothy.

  'You know, if he offers for you to stay the night here, you should go for it!' Before I can splutter a response Elliot continues. 'I'm not being funny but you'll be a lot more comfortable here and you know, it's cool …' He nods back at the room, conveying the words, If you two want to get it on, without actually saying them.

  I'm stunned. Having Elliot presume that a little hanky-panky is in the offing makes me feel strangely fluttery inside. Could it be true? Could I really pull a stud like Joel?


  'I don't think that's what he has in mind,' I say, reminding myself that Joel is actually more interested in seeing me get together with Elliot.

  'I do. Why wouldn't he?'

  The more pertinent question is, Why wouldn't you, Elliot? but I don't ask it.

  'Urgh!' I shudder. 'I'm perishing, shall we go back inside?'

  Elliot grabs my toweling lapels together. 'All I'm saying is: please don't feel you have to hang out with me just because …' he falters. 'Just because that's what you came here to do. Maybe this is what The California Club had planned for you all along.'

  'Are you trying to get rid of me?' I narrow my eyes.

  'NO! God, if you knew how much I've been looking forward to your visit!' He looks pained. 'I just don't want you to, you know … miss out.'

  'Miss out on what?' I raise an eyebrow. I can't believe he's trying to get me a sex life.

  Elliot sighs heavily. 'If you've met someone, I … oh I don't know! I wasn't expecting to have this conversation.' He shakes his head. 'I just feel like there's this vibe between you two, which is fine, of course – why wouldn't it be?'

  The last question seems to be directed to himself. I've never seen Elliot get in such a tangle. He's usually so articulate. Just how many tequilas has he downed?

  He huffs a breath. 'So.'

  'So?' I smile, wishing I could read his mind.

  'You just seem …' he begins again.

  'Yes?' Oh please tell me! I feel different too but I don't know what it is.

  His eyes search my face as if he's trying to identify a familiar feature in a stranger's face.

  'Animal, vegetable or mineral?' I prompt.

  He rolls his eyes.

  'Just get inside!' he groans, pushing me back in to the warmth.

  As the boys make macho smalltalk, I try to make sense of the jumble of feelings I'm experiencing. How could I not want to lie beneath the stars with Elliot? It's what I've been dreaming of since our roles were assigned. And yet, now that I'm here, all cozied up in this room, I can't imagine leaving Joel and his happy band of hormones. I look at him, seen for the first time without his baseball hat. His hair is as black as mine but shorn like an Army-enlisted Elvis, his eyes are so dark you can't distinguish the iris from the pupil and yet they shine beguilingly like glossy ebony. Next to his robust geometric form, Elliot looks so much softer and sweeter – he definitely has the more gentle spirit and that's what has always drawn me to him. But tonight, I seem to be hankering for something stronger.

  'Do you want red or white with your dinner, Lara?' Joel asks, wrapping me the dark velvet cloak of his stare.

  How can I make that decision? Joel is of course the red: bold and sultry, I'm drawn to his power and naughtiness but my heart just melts at my pet Pinot Grigio Elliot – aromatic, golden and true.

  ‘You choose!' I slur, passing the buck.

  All I know is that right now the notion of not concluding the evening kissing someone seems utterly, utterly unthinkable.

  Chapter 23

  ‘So what happened?' I'm on the phone to Zoë, the following morning.

  'Well, when it came to it, Joel invited us both to stay over: “There's plenty of room - two big beds. You wouldn't mind sharing with each other, would you? Old buddies?"'

  Zoë gasps at his daring. 'What did you say?'

  "'Fine by me!" I was quite piddled by that point.'

  'And Elliot?'

  I sigh. 'He was all, "I've got to get back to Camp Lane but Lara, you should stay!"'

  'Oh no!'

  'He even said: "Make the most of the facilities!"'

  'Nooooo!'

  'I know! They're both trying to hook me up with the other man!'

  Like I would have had the energy either way – I'd been slipping in and out of consciousness for the previous half-hour so by that point all I wanted to do was crawl into a pit. It became a case of 'If the nearest one happens to be the cleanest, softest, comfiest one, so be it.' As the boys went off on a tangent discussing driving conditions in Yosemite, I stumbled over to the nearest bed, threw back the covers, and pulled the sheet over my head. I seem to remember Joel offering to call for a camp bed for Elliot and then suggesting he meet us for breakfast but that's it.

  'The last word I said to Elliot was "Waffles!''' I tell Zoë.

  'So did you get any?'

  'I haven't been down to breakfast yet—'

  'No!' Zoë screeches. 'Did you get any action with Joel?'

  'Unless he's got a very light touch and I've suddenly become a heavy sleeper, no.'

  'Oh Lara!'

  'Oh don't!'

  'What a wasted opportunity – two guys and nothing,' Zoë tuts.

  I don't want to dwell on my failures so I swiftly change the subject: 'By the way, Joel put Boris's dress in to be dry-cleaned late last night so as soon as I get it back I'll FedEx it to him.'

  'You may as well just bring it with you when you come to me – there's only a few hours in it.'

  'If you're sure?'

  'Oh yes, Boris was an absolute darling when I went in. As a matter of fact he now thinks he owes me a favor – we got talking and he was telling me all about his grandson and the various problems he's been having at school and when I asked him to be more specific I started thinking he might have dyspraxia. His family thought he was hyperactive because he could never sit still and he was always shrieking but they never wanted to take him to a doctor because they were afraid of what they might say. Boris got straight on the phone to his daughter and I got my office to fax over some information and now they're really excited that they may have found out what his trouble is.'

  'Wow! Nurse Harriott, that's amazing – what gave the game away?'

  'Just little things like it's still not obvious whether he's left-or right-handed, he doesn't like wearing new clothes, gets defensive of being touched, frequently spills drinks – a lot of the key symptoms,' Zoë breezes. 'And when I told them it's statistically likely that one child in every class of thirty is prone to this, they didn't feel so alone.'

  'Well done you!'

  'It felt pretty good to be able to help, I must confess. At the diner I'm still getting used to the fact that people only interact with me because I can get them stuff from the kitchen!'

  'How's it going there?'

  'Oh not so bad, Todd's a treasure but the closer we get to Oscar night, the more bitter the wannabe girls become!'

  'Sounds like they make excellent cautionary tales,' I suggest.

  'Yes they do. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'm on an early tomorrow so I should be done around Ipm.'

  'Why don't I meet you back at your apartment, just in case there's any delay getting back from here?'

  'Oh. Well. If you want …' Zoë sounds unsure.

  'It makes more sense.’

  ‘Right, I’ll give you the address.’

  I jot it down.

  'Where is that exactly?'

  'Oh it's this hip new area, you'll see.'

  'So what are your plans for today?' I ask.

  'Working and then taking a Stars' Homes tour around Beverly Hills to see how the other half live. You?'

  'Well, first on the list is shopping for a new outfit - my suitcase has gone AWOL again.'

  'Oh no! What are you wearing now?'

  'Joel's lent me a T-shirt and the pair of tracksuit bottoms he normally wears to go jogging.'

  'Is that where he is now?'

  'I think so. I woke up and he was gone.'

  'Shoes?'

  'I'm wearing the hotel slippers as flip-flops till we get to the shop.'

  'Ingenious!'

  'I know,' I beam as I wiggle my toes with pride. My only concern now is my face – I feel there's this unwritten rule that you can't wear make-up in the wilderness so I've tried to go easy on the eyeshadow and lippie but still feel like I'm going to be ambushed and scrubbed down with coal tar soap.

  'Is it still snowing?'

  'I haven't dared to look yet.'

 
; 'What exactly are you supposed to do in a national park anyway?'

  'I don't know. I think Elliot's giving his first bear talk. Other than that, I'll leave it up to the boys.'

  'Hark at you with your love triangle!' Zoë laughs, then gets serious. 'Listen, don't mess up this opportunity – you've only got tonight to do the right thing.'

  'Which is?'

  'I can't decide,' Zoë muses. 'I mean, Elliot is your true love but Joel sounds a super hot and you might never get another chance with him.'

  'I might never get another night alone with Elliot – I still can't believe he's getting married.'

  'Well you know what I'd do.'

  'I can't sleep with both of them!'

  'Lara!' Zoë sounds outraged.

  'What?’

  ‘What kind of girl do you take me for?'

  'Sorry.'

  'But you've got a point there.'

  'Have I?'

  'I think you need a bit of compare and contrast. You should at least kiss both of them.'

  'Zoë. I've spent the last ten years trying to kiss Elliot and I only succeeded once.'

  'Well, I think it's about time you got an update, just to be sure he can still make you feel all woozy.'

  'But how? What makes you think that tonight is going to be different to any other?'

  'Because it has to be,' Zoë says simply.

  She’s right. This is it. This is for real. I sit up in bed and stare across the room. I said I'd do it – take the chance to be alone with Elliot to tell him how deeply I feel. If not now, when? But how will I begin? And considering how much alcohol it'll take to get my nerve up, how will I be able to get the words out without slurring?

  I might have to get a bit more guidance from Joel. He seems to have a bit of know-how on this subject.

  In the meantime, I make my second phone call of the day, this time to Sasha. She sounds bright but I suspect she's putting on a breezy voice so as not to worry me.

  'How's the ogre?' I ask.

  'Just the same,' she sighs. 'Cool with everyone but me.’

  ‘Do you still fancy him?'

  'I still fancy the guy I met on the first night. I keep waiting for him to reappear.'