by Jade Astor
“Sounds that way,” Darian muttered. He noticed that Argo’s gaze lingered on the middle-aged man standing directly beside Zara. His old friend was certainly turning on the charm. No doubt Gabrielle also considered flattery and flirtation among the amenities she offered her guests.
“Who’s that guy checking in?” Argo asked Kyle. “I think I recognize him from somewhere.”
“Not a wanted poster, I hope?” Darian said.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Kyle sputtered. He took both Darian and Argo by the arms and smoothly wheeled them around so they were facing in the opposite direction. “The financial pages of the Times, maybe. Gabi has a background in catering to royalty in Europe, don’t forget. She knows how to reel in the big fish by promising both luxury accommodations and absolute discretion. We all have strict instructions not to stare at the guests who check in and out of the suite on the top floor.”
Darian saw Argo’s shoulders tense up, and Kyle dropped both hands back to his side. “It would be nice to stay and chat with you, Kyle, but Darian and I are on a tight schedule. Things to do, places to go.”
“I don’t suppose Rikki’s around?” Darian asked hopefully. “We really just stopped in to see the Christmas decorations and say hi.”
“Unfortunately, she’s not available,” Kyle said crisply, adopting his best customer-service tone. Then he smiled and mimicked locking his lips with a key. “Big meeting with Gabi, you know. Top secret business dealings.”
Darian tried to keep his expression composed. “All the same, Argo’s right. We should get a move on. Parking meter to feed.”
“Park in the hotel garage next time. I’ll validate the tag for you. But do enjoy the grand tour, Argo. Don’t forget to show him the boardwalk, Darian. Remember all the fun you and I used to have down there on Saturday nights? And plenty of other nights, too, now that I think about it. There was this little spot underneath the pier—well, never mind. You wouldn’t want to waste time talking about water under the bridge, pun intended.”
Argo raised a brow. “I’m intrigued.”
“We didn’t plan a specific route,” Darian hedged, blushing.
“Anyway, no worries about cutting this conversation short,” Kyle went on. “We’ll all have plenty of time to catch up soon. You’re both coming to Gabi’s holiday party on Friday, of course. It’s not to be missed. Ice sculptures, live music, and I’ve even heard rumors about a chocolate fountain. If you want a sneak preview, check the hotel’s web site. I designed it myself. Interactive menus, song requests, everything. I predict you’ll be spellbound.”
“Kyle was always good with computers,” Darian told Argo, again seizing the chance to change the subject.
Kyle tipped his head back and laughed a bit too forcefully. “Remember in eleventh grade, when I set up a gay dating service as my term project? Our teachers weren’t too happy—or at least, they pretended not to be. Mr. Wilson signed up for it, actually. He used a fake name but I knew it was him. Matched up his IP address. I also found him a pretty cute boyfriend, as I recall. Hope it worked out for them.”
“Let’s go,” Argo said, pointedly taking Darian’s hand in his. “Catch you later, Kyle.”
“Toodles,” Kyle called as he hurried away. Darian watched until he disappeared through a door on one side of the lobby. Back at the reception desk, Zara and the man she’d been assisting had gone, too. Their reunion would have to wait a little longer.
“Am I wrong, or were we just hit with one of those famous Florida hurricanes?” Argo asked as they moved together, by unspoken agreement, toward the exit.
“Sorry to blindside you like that. I had no idea we’d run into him so soon, though I should have expected it. He has a way of being everywhere all at once.”
Argo shook his head in amusement. “So you and him, huh?”
“It wasn’t anything serious. We were in high school.”
“I get that. And I’m only asking because I’m interested in who you were back then. This is a whole new you, back in your natural environment. You have this whole other life I’ve known nothing about until now, and I admit it’s kind of eye-opening.”
“Trust me, my past isn’t very exciting or interesting. I was your typical insecure kid experimenting with his sexuality. I barely understood what I wanted until fairly late in the game. Kyle was always more secure in his identity.”
“It’s both exciting and interesting to me,” Argo said, squeezing Darian’s fingers as they stepped back outside into the warm air. “And I was serious when I said I wanted to check out this boardwalk place for myself. It sounds like fun.”
“Back in the day, there were arcades and cotton candy shops and stuff. All the kids went on the weekends. I’m sure they still do, but we’re too old for that now.”
“Speak for yourself! Age is just a number. We could probably show those kids a thing or two.”
Darian smiled. “Okay, then. You win. The pier’s down this way a bit. We can walk along the sand.”
“That sounds nice. Very Floridian.”
“My goal is to make you feel at home here before our vacation is over,” Darian said as they headed down the path that led from the hotel patio to the beach. A few of the guests who were out sunning or wading looked up at the sight two guys strolling hand in hand, but Darian sensed curiosity rather than hostility. Times had changed a lot since his younger years, when he and Kyle would sneak off into the darkness to enjoy romantic outings together.
Eventually, they approached a hulking structure made of stone, steel, and weather-darkened wood. Half of it stretched out into the glistening green waves and the other half rested on the sand, forming a cavern-like shelter. Beneath it wandered a few beachcombers, one of whom was picking up litter with a spike and transferring it into a plastic bag. High above them, tourists stood licking ice cream cones and gazing out at passing boats.
“There it is,” Darian said, pointing. “Not much excitement this time of day. And everyone will have to clear out later, when the tide comes in. Back in the day, we had to time our excursions according to the sea level.”
“Kind of like at home, when we have to keep track of how deep the snow is before we go out walking,” Argo observed.
“A lot like that,” Darian agreed. “Just with fewer layers of clothes involved.”
He’d blurted it out without thinking, and felt his cheeks flame up once again. Thankfully, Argo took his remark in stride and laughed.
“I’ll bet.”
Farther along the strand, a dozen or so people had spread out towels and sand chairs so they could read, sunbathe, or enjoy a snack. A short distance from the others, two women sat side by side on a blanket. Far overdressed for the beach, they faced each other with their heads bent low in a serious conversation.
Abruptly, Darian stopped. Argo, not realizing in time, almost ran into him. Then he saw the same thing Darian had.
“Damn it,” he said, while Argo let out a whistle of amazement.
One of the women was Rikki. The fifty-something woman beside her, wearing a cream-colored suit and a colorful silk scarf, had dark hair in a fashionable pageboy haircut that fluttered in the salty breeze. A pair of impossibly high heels rested on the blanket next to her and her bare feet burrowed in the sand. This, Darian knew, could only be the infamous Gabrielle.
“Let’s go back,” Argo whispered. He started pulling Darian in the opposite direction. Like Gabrielle, Darian dug his feet into the soft ground.
“No. I want them to know that I saw them.”
Just then, Gabrielle looked up and noticed them. Following her gaze, Rikki froze, mortified.
“Ah! I’ll bet I know who this is!” Gabrielle exclaimed, springing to her feet. Rikki stood up too, though much more slowly. “I recognize you from the picture Rikki keeps on her desk. She’s been telling me all day about the lovely visit with her son, the English teacher. Rikki is so proud of you that she talks of almost nothing else. Not that I blame her in the least.”
Darian wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead, he took Argo’s hand, both by way of introduction and for a shot of reassurance. “This is my partner, Argo.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Argo.
“Rikki talks about you also. I understand you're a detective.”
“No, no, just a small-town sheriff,” Argo corrected.
“How fascinating. If you ever want to change careers, I could use a good chief of security at the hotel. You would not believe how much theft goes on. And I don’t mean just office supplies and pillowcases. I suppose it’s to be expected with so much entrusted to computers nowadays. Ripe for hacking, Kyle says.”
Argo forced a smile. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know much about that. I use a more old-fashioned approach.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much. I have a feeling you’re as sharp as a new razor blade. One reason I’ve succeeded so well in business is my ability to read people. I have a good sense about you, Argo.” As Gabrielle waved an imperious hand in the air, Darian noted her affected, not-quite-European accent. He couldn’t place it, though it reminded him of the Ivy-League affectation he sometimes heard back at Birchwood Academy. Yet he doubted Gabrielle had developed her unique cadence at any elite institution. Thanks to his friendship with two theater owners back home, not to mention his own recent work on an amateur horror film, Darian had a new understanding of how voices—even entire identities—could be manufactured with a little research and a lot of chutzpah.
“Well, thank you,” Argo said.
While Gabrielle burbled on, Rikki stood silently beside her, a picture of absolute misery. Darian berated himself for not feeling a sliver of sympathy for her.
“We came to see you at the hotel,” he finally said. “Kyle said you were in an important meeting.”
“And how right he was. With the party coming up, we have so much to do. But never mind all that. There’s a time for work and a time for play. And this is certainly play time. Will you join us?” Gabrielle motioned to the blanket. “Plenty of room. We commandeered the biggest piece of cloth we could find in the linen closet.”
“No thanks,” Darian said. “I’ll itch all day if I get sand on me. Actually, I wouldn’t expect to find you here, Mom. You always say the salty air is bad for your hair.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Gabrielle chortled. “I think windswept hair is lovely. The humidity gives it more body.” She lifted her hand again, and for one terrible moment Darian feared she would ruffle her fingers through his mother’s bangs. Thankfully, she refrained. “Anyhow, we came here to escape the chaos for a while. The hotel is an absolute madhouse this time of year. Rikki says when your mind is going round in circles, it's best to change your environment. It helps generate new ideas.”
“Is that so? Strange. I don't think I’ve ever heard her say that, and I’ve known her many years. All my life, in fact.”
“It was just something I heard,” Rikki interjected. “Probably in a management seminar.”
“Oh, those silly things. Nothing but jargon and superficial platitudes! You know, Rikki, we really must set up a convention space at the hotel. Such gatherings may be worthless in an epistemological sense, but they bring in the cash. Why don’t you check into that when we get back to the office?”
“Okay,” Rikki muttered. “I think we should wait until after the party, though.”
“Sensible, as always.” Gabrielle turned back to Argo. “The two of you will be coming, of course.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Argo said when Darian didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at his mother in shock.
“I would hope not.” Gabrielle flashed a wide, toothy smile that reminded Darian of a hungry barracuda. “Wait until you see how much work your mother has put into it, Darian. You’ll be very proud of her. But then, I’m sure you already are. How could you not be?”
“We should go.” Darian felt his stomach twist. “I’m glad we got to meet you, Gabrielle, after everything we’ve heard.”
“I’ll see you at home later.” Rikki pronounced the words tightly and crisply. He remembered that quiet, measured tone from his childhood. He usually only heard it when he had done something wrong. This time, though, it sure wasn’t him.
He and Argo had walked only a few yards away when a commotion caused them to swing back around. A muscular blond man had approached Rikki and Gabrielle, who were still standing on the blanket. Though Darian couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, the man’s voice was raised and he was waving his hands in the air.
“What the hell?” Argo muttered. He motioned for Darian to stay behind. “Wait here. I’ll handle this.”
Darian paused for a second or two and then followed Argo. Seeing Argo’s swift approach, the stranger fell silent and took a step back.
“Is there a problem?” Argo asked in his most controlled, and therefore more intimidating, cop voice.
Gabrielle spoke first. “No, no,” she said, waving Argo away. “No cause for worry at all. A minor business dispute. We’ll talk back at the hotel later, Carl. Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of everything?”
“You’d better,” snapped Carl. “Otherwise I’m not afraid to make a few phone calls. You wouldn’t like that much, would you? You either, Rikki.”
“Don’t try to intimidate us.” Gabrielle’s airy tone turned to ice. “One wrong move and you’ll be even sorrier than you are now.”
“That’s enough.” Argo moved in closer, his big hands closing into fists at his sides. “Get moving, buddy. On your way. Now.”
Without another word, Carl whirled around and stomped off, kicking at the ground in rage. An unfortunate sunbather in his path cussed him out after being sprayed with sand.
“What was that all about?” Darian demanded of Rikki, but it was Gabrielle who answered.
“Nothing to worry about,” she assured him. “A disgruntled employee. They’re an occupational hazard in our business. Put it out of your minds entirely. We’ll sort it out.”
“I didn’t like the looks of that,” Darian said. They hadn’t talked much while they walked back to the car. Darian sensed that, like him, Argo had no idea what to bring up first. “That guy was definitely threatening them.”
“He sure was.”
With his hand on the car door’s handle, Darian paused. “Argo…I suggest we don’t mention any of this to Ange when we pick her up from school. Let’s just tell her we walked around the shops and the beach. Anything else will only make things worse.”
Argo sighed as he buckled his seatbelt. “If that’s the way you want it.”
“Actually, I’m not sure what I want.” Squaring his shoulders, Darian started the car. Before he pulled away from the curb, he glanced up at the meter. They had avoided being ticketed by less than a minute. “At least one thing went our way today,” he mumbled.
That night, after a dinner flavored mostly with stilted conversation, his mothers made a half-hearted attempt to unbox and set up the Christmas decorations. Things went quickly south when Rikki made the mistake of comparing a crumpled glob of their usual tinsel to the imported and far more resilient type she had ordered for the hotel Christmas tree.
“Far be it from me to challenge an expert in such matters,” Ange snarled, flinging the tinsel back into the box. “I should have known Gabrielle would have something much more fitting and elegant.”
“We can do this later,” Darian said, somewhat desperately.
“Fine. I have some work to do on my computer anyway,” Rikki said as she stormed out of the living room.
“I’m sorry, Darian.” Ange shoved aside the box of ornaments and stood up. “I should have seen that coming. Passive aggression and sarcasm never works with her. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. I need to go and talk to her.”
“Sure, Mom,” Darian soothed, despite the prickle of cold sweat on his neck. It had taken all his willpower not to bring up the things he’d seen and heard earlier. He could only imagine the pain
Ange would suffer if she ever found out what he was keeping from her. Yet he felt even worse about ratting out Rikki—who, when he thought about it logically, hadn’t actually done anything illicit. It wasn’t as though he and Argo had caught her kissing Gabrielle on the beach.
But why had she looked so guilty when he’d walked up to the blanket?
He and Argo said nothing as Ange crossed the room and went into the study where Rikki had sequestered herself with her laptop. Soon enough, the argument grew loud enough for them to hear.
“I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” Rikki was saying. “All these years!”
“Trust you? How can I? I hear the way you talk to her, even when you’re on the phone. It’s like you can finish each other’s sentences. Exactly the way you and I used to talk. You’re shutting me out, Rikki. Since this promotion, it’s like I don’t know anything about your life. You might as well be working for the CIA or something.”
“Ange, I’m not trying to make things difficult between us. I don’t tell you about my job because I can’t.”
“Oh, so it really is top secret? I suppose Gabrielle got some kind of elite spy training when she ran those castle tours in England?”
“Stop it. You’re talking crazy. Can’t you let this go? You know I just want to put work out of my mind when I get home.”
“I used to share in your career. You shared mine. Maybe you weren’t always interested in what I was researching, but you seemed to be interested in my happiness. This is different. It’s like you don’t care at all.”
“That’s not true. I don’t know how to convince you, though. You’re my wife. Is it too much to ask you to believe me?”
“Here’s the sad thing—I don’t. It’s not a conscious decision. I just don’t. And I hate it, Rikki, like I hate the way you react every time her name comes up. Never mind what you’re doing to Darian.”
“Darian has his own life now. He’s a grown man, Ange.”
“So he is. Either way, I can’t control the way I feel. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I guess I have no choice. I’m moving into the guest room.”