I need something to ease the pain. Rather, someone. I need someone real—someone I can hold onto, someone who is pure and full of light.
Val.
Beyond the light she holds inside, I feel she’s hiding a deep, emotional pain from the past. I sense she's been hurt before, and afraid to trust again, but she can trust me. I'm a man to be trusted. This time it will be different. I'm ahead of the curve. I am more prepared. Yes, that's the word, prepared. I've done my research. The only thing missing is someone to share it with.
Someone I can trust with all my heart. Someone who will never share my deepest, darkest secrets.
5
Valerie
As I sat at the breakfast nook, the late morning sun streamed through the window, warming my bare shoulders. Still dressed in my pajamas, I searched the internet while drinking my third cup of coffee. Cindy had just gone to pick up a few groceries since I was out of almond milk, and she was craving waffles. I had the whole house to myself and reveled in those moments.
Cindy, the extrovert, always had to be doing something with someone and frequently invited people over when she wasn’t working. I had been surprised to find her home alone that night, when David sent me flowers, and even more surprised by her interest in him.
Scrolling the site on my laptop, I found the photo Cindy must have seen. David standing among a few other men, surrounded by tall, dense trees, somewhere deep in the jungle. I zoomed in for a close-up of the photo. One of the men appeared to have a machete attached to his belt. I shuddered at the sight of it.
The website for Limón Export was colorful yet simple and had articles about coffee and tropical fruits. As I sat, sipping my coffee, I scrolled through numerous photos of banana and coffee plantations. Pausing, I glanced at the empty fruit bowl on the kitchen counter, wishing we had some bananas and hoping Cindy had written them on her shopping list.
Toward the bottom of the page was another photo of David. He was feeding a toucan perched on his arm, something orange and cubed. Mango maybe? It reminded me of the toucan photo in his condo, and I wondered if it was the same bird.
I clicked on the word ‘gallery’ and my screen filled with beautiful photos of lush greenery, rolling hills, volcanic mountains, and cloud forests. As I momentarily gazed over my shoulder out the window at the arid brown desert behind me, I saw a lonely cactus next to a dried out shrub in desperate need of water. I closed my eyes to imagine a different scene like the one on the screen—one with greener palm trees and sparkling blue water. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed a tropical vacation.
Years ago, when I lived on the East coast, my girlfriends and I would make our annual trek to the Caribbean Islands. It was our way of surviving the long, cold New England winters. We needed something to look forward to for a week, someplace to swap our snowsuits for swimsuits.
Each year we chose a different island and took turns deciding our destination. Back then, I had fallen in love with St. Martin, my dream island getaway.
One memorable trip had tempted me to pack my bags and book a one-way ticket to the island. I figured I could find a job bartending at a thatched-roof bar and run around barefoot in the sand. Live a simple, carefree life.
I gazed back at my computer and opened a new browser tab. This time I searched for beaches in Costa Rica. As the pictures loaded, long stretches of sand and aqua blue water appeared with swaying palm trees lining the shore. Closing my eyes, it took me back to another place, another time. What I’d give for a vacation right about now.
My cell phone buzzing along the table interrupted my brief, online, virtual vacation. I glanced at the screen.
David.
I watched as it buzzed three more times while inching its way toward me. I decided to answer.
“Hello.”
“Val? Hey, it’s David.”
“Hey,” I replied, leaning back on the bench.
“You busy? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, what’s up?”
“I was calling to see how you’re doing and ask if you received the flowers I sent.”
“Yes, thank you.” I reached for a throw pillow, stuffing it behind my back for support.
“Listen, I owe you a beach and a sunset,” he blurted out after a moment of silence.
“You don't owe me anything.”
“No, really, I do. I have a proposal.”
I couldn't imagine what he was about to say.
“I'm heading down to Costa Rica in two weeks, and I'd like you to join me.”
I stared at my computer screen, the blue waters and beaches tempting me. He can't be serious.
“Val, you still there?”
“It sounds nice but, umm, we just met. We hardly know each other.”
“I realize that but you’ll be safe with me. You’ll have your own private room. No pressure. You can relax at the beach during the day while I work. In the evening, we can have dinner and watch sunsets together. All expenses paid. What do you say?”
I didn't know what to say. I glanced around the kitchen, looking for hidden cameras. It felt as though I was being set up for a reality TV show, and ‘Strange Coincidences’ could have been its title.
“It would be great to get away, but I’d have to find someone to cover my shifts.”
“Well, think about it and let me know. I’d love the company and the chance to make it up to you.”
“I appreciate the offer.” I wondered if he sensed the smile growing on my face.
“Listen, I gotta run. I have a busy day ahead of me. I hope to hear from you soon.”
And just like that, my tropical vacation appeared out of thin air and onto the table, awaiting an answer.
Moments later, the front door opened and closed, and the flapping of flip flops headed my way. Cindy appeared in the kitchen with four plastic grocery bags hooked on her arms.
“Remind me never to go shopping on Wednesdays,” she said, setting the bags on the counter. “It was jam-packed. I waited in line forever.”
Rising from the bench, I helped her unpack the food items.
“So, you’re not going to believe what just happened,” I said, removing a bottle of maple syrup from the bag.
“What? What did I miss?” Tearing open the flap of a box of waffles, she placed two in the toaster.
“David just called and invited me to go to Costa Rica with him.”
“Get out of town!” she squealed, bouncing on her toes.
“Exactly what I’d like to do, but I don't know if I should go. I just—”
“Hell, if you don't go, I will. I can be packed and ready in less than an hour. I only need a couple of bikinis and cut-offs.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” I said. Of course it’s something she would do. And wear.
“So seriously, are you going to go?”
“I kinda want to.”
“Well, you already survived a night with him. I think you’ll be okay.” Opening the refrigerator, she scanned the shelves.
“He said I would have my own private room.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure he has other intentions,” she winked, holding a bowl of strawberries in one hand and shaking a can of whipped cream with the other.
“Whatever!” I rolled my eyes.
After indulging in waffles and deflecting Cindy’s inquiry about my night with David, she headed to the gym, and I dressed for work. As I shoved my feet into a pair of three-inch pumps, I dreaded the thought of the next eight hours. Soon I’d be rushing around, choking on second-hand smoke, and taking orders from annoying guests. My thoughts slowly drifted elsewhere.
I pictured myself wearing a comfortable cotton sundress and strolling along the beach barefoot with a frayed straw hat on my head. I’d be inhaling salty sea air and hanging out with cute little sloths, creatures more my speed. I was burned out; I had been burning the candles at both ends.
On my days off, I had started writing again. When I was a young girl, I used to write poems and had eve
n written a few children's books. Short stories that always included animals: dogs, pigs, frogs, birds, you name it. I had come across some of my old writings while packing for my move. Reading them brought me back to my younger days when I had more time to be creative. Maybe if I had pursued my love of writing children's books years ago, I wouldn't have ended up at some dead-end hotel job.
As I made my way toward the Crystal Lounge, dodging convention-of-the-week attendees, I saw Nicole leaning against the bar laughing with the bartender. As I drew near, she caught sight of me, lowering her head. Quickly picking up her drink order, she hurried away, and I wondered what her sudden exit was all about.
After I stashed my handbag inside the employee closet, I was pinning my name tag to my uniform when my supervisor approached me. She stood there, glaring at me with her Sky Royal emblazoned coffee mug in hand, her fingernails thrumming against it.
“Valerie, follow me. I need a word with you, please.”
Oh no, this can't be good, I thought.
I followed Natasha into her office and she closed the door behind us.
“So,” pursing her lips, she inhaled and let out a long sigh. “What’s this I hear about a dinner date at The Amethyst?” she asked, raising a freshly micro-bladed eyebrow.
Dumb Nicole and her big fat mouth—she needs to lay off the fillers.
“It was my night off and it was only dinner.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“I don't need all the intimate details,” she said, waving her hand in front of my face. “I heard enough already.”
“Intimate details? Nothing happened.”
“You know the policy, right? I assume you read it before you signed it?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
“Well, considering this isn't the first time something like this has happened, I'm going to have to adhere to company rules and let you go.” Folding her long, licorice-colored fingernails over her hands, she leered at me.
“Not the first time? What are you talking about? Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
As she shuffled and reshuffled the papers on her desk, a memory popped into my mind. Last year Cindy had briefly dated a high-roller, a well-known casino guest. She had brought a change of clothes to work, and they went out one night after her shift. I warned her she was taking a risk with the chance of being seen with him at the hotel. But of course, she didn't listen.
When her car wouldn’t start that night, I had to drive back to the hotel to pick her up. She wasn't answering my texts, so I had to go inside the hotel to find her. Someone must've seen us and thought we were all together.
“Natasha, wait, I can explain everything,” I pleaded.
“Sorry, Valerie, as I said, company rules.”
I gazed at Natasha in her tight black dress, with her long, jet black hair, and dark red lipstick. All that was missing was a whip by her side to show her authority.
“But what about tonight? I'm already here, and I—”
“Nicole will cover. It’s already taken care of. She can handle it.”
That little snitch. That must've been what she was laughing about with the bartender.
“If you have any uniforms at home, please return them tomorrow. However, you won't be able to enter the employee area as you’ll be handing over your key card tonight. I'll have someone escort you out.”
“Escort me out? My goodness, you act like I’ve committed a crime.” Shaking my head, I couldn't believe what was happening.
I had no idea what I was going to do.
6
David
She said yes. It took a little coaxing on my end, but she finally agreed and obeyed my wishes.
When she called to inform me she had been fired from her job, I was sorry to hear but ecstatic to learn she would be accompanying me on my trip. Now we'll have the chance to become better acquainted, really get to know each other on a deeper level. They say when you travel together, especially with someone new, you learn every little detail about that person. You get to know that person’s likes and dislikes, their quirks and behaviors, and the way they handle unexpected situations.
Not that I'm expecting any unexpected situations, but there could be delays, a change in itinerary, those sorts of things that pop up when you travel. But I'll be sure to have everything planned out, down to the last detail. It's not the way I typically travel, I’ll have to admit. I've always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy. However, Val is unique, and this trip will be different, unlike my past travels alone.
Not that I was ever really alone, per se. There's always a woman or two around willing to keep me company. Sure, I’ve had my temptations as all men have. But I've learned my lesson because temptations have never served me well in the past. I'm not into drama. I have no desire to be tangled in a web of deceit. It never ends well, and quite frankly, I'm tired of bad endings. Things in my life are different now. I'm looking forward to starting anew, beginning a new chapter in my life. I'm not getting any younger. If there's one thing I've learned from past, failed relationships, its control. This time I'll be the one in control of the ending.
A knock on the front door interrupts my thoughts. I'm not expecting anyone.
When I gaze through the peephole, I see her — half-naked, standing on the steps, fiddling with her hair. I open the door.
“David, you’re home. Where have you been? You haven’t been answering my texts.”
Shoving her way past me, she strides into the living room, dumps her overstuffed tote bag on the floor, and proceeds to flop on my couch.
“Kayla, how are you? I haven't seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been sooo busy. Working two jobs is total madness,” she says, chomping a wad of gum. She starts blowing pink bubbles, smacking them against her lips. “What have you been up to these days?” Another loud popping sound as she reaches for a magazine on the table.
“I’ve been busy with things. I’m getting ready to leave town soon.”
“You sure travel a lot. Where are you off to now? The jungle again?”
“How’d you guess?”
“So, when do I get to go?” she simpers.
“Kayla, we’ve already been—.”
“I know, I know. But I could sure use a vacation right about now.”
“So, what’s going on, what do you need?”
“A few photos by the pool. I have a new client requesting a summer vibe look,” she says, flipping through the pages.
“Didn’t we already take a bunch of pool shots?”
“Uh huh, but that was last year when I was a brunette. They want current. I’ve lost like fifteen pounds since then.” She jumps up from the couch and does a pirouette in her too-tight pink tank top and even tighter white shorts.
“I see that. You look good.” I repress a smile.
“Not good enough to take on vacation, though.” Crossing her arms, she pouts in disappointment.
“Kayla, come on now. I'm old enough to be your father.”
“So, what does that matter? We’ve been friends forever.” Batting her lashes, she makes that little jerking move she does with her head. So full of herself, miss sassy pants. I’m sure her type of attitude is necessary for her line of work—a fine line between cocky and confident.
For the record, I’ve only known her for two years, and I have to say her feisty demeanor comes through in all her photos. She's lucky to be so photogenic. Most girls would kill to look like her, and most men would kill to be in my position.
But I'm no fool. I've been nothing but professional with Kayla. It's one line I will never cross. She's opened up to me over the years, about her past and her struggles. I've tried helping her many times, tried steering her in the right direction. But she's headstrong. Sadly, she’s learning the hard way. At this point, all I can be is a shoulder to lean on and sometimes cry on.
But today, I will do as she asks. Without me, she would never have been hired by the agency. They loved the photos of her the
moment they saw her portfolio. They told her the photographer has a real eye and knows what he is doing. Of course, I know what I'm doing, even more so today.
Kayla grabs her bag, I gather my equipment, and we head outside to the pool. She shows me all of her outfits, draping them over the lounge chair. She trusts my choices in swimwear and follows my commands for positions. She says I always know what’s best and she’s right.
While I adjust the reflector stand, Kayla sashays into the cabana to change clothes. It’s another beautiful spring day in California. The sun shines bright in the clear blue sky, and the colorful flowers surrounding the pool provide the perfect backdrop for a photoshoot.
When the cabana door opens, Kayla struts across the concrete in a pair of high-heeled sandals. She has donned the red string bikini with the short, sheer sarong tied just below her waist.
As I gaze into the lens, Kayla swings her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and thrusts out her hip. Tilting her head to the side, she flashes me a dazzling smile.
Focus, I force myself. You need to focus.
7
Valerie
David had insisted I fly to LA that day so we could be on the same flight to Costa Rica. He figured it would be easier on me since it was my first time in Central America. He also didn’t want to chance us being separated from each other.
After flying into LAX at ten in the morning, we grabbed a quick bite at the airport and then boarded our flight. We didn't arrive in San Jose until almost eight that night.
There was not much to see in the back of a taxi cab as we made our way to our B&B. Salsa music streamed from the radio, and I had no idea of the meaning of the words they were singing. I hadn’t had any time to take a crash course in Spanish. Thankfully David had told me he knew a few phrases, enough of the basics to get around.
The Glass House Page 3