Slippery When Wet (The Brazen Boys) by Daryl Banner

Author:Daryl Banner [Banner, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2015-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

[ I am Not An Easy Tail ]

When we return from the duty free shops at the port, we set ourselves up at a table by the windows and have lunch on the lido. Ollie says a word or two and the Mannequin just stares at the plain storefront and a pair of drummers seated on the concrete, drumming for tips. That’s what Mannequins do best: sit and look pretty. Though she nibbles on a fruit salad and hides silently behind sunglasses that cover half her face, I wouldn’t say she looks upset about anything, but rather trapped in some curious, complex thought that I can’t decipher. Ollie seems just the same, tiredness in his eyes as he looks the opposite way, staring at a bunch of kids chasing each other in circles around the pool.

Next time you’re on a little vacay and any part of you is feeling blue or grossly unfilled, remind yourself of this: behind every smile you see is a miserable soul trying to convince his or herself that they’re happy. Don’t be fooled for one weak minute; they are, all of them, desperate for a rescuing.

Hendry rescued me, but I haven’t seen him all day. I glance through the window and imagine him in Jamaica doing something super cool. Hiking a big trail with his buddies. Laughing too hard at a joke one of them says. Snorkeling in some skintight lycra outfit.

And I’m … not. I sip my lemonade and wince as the breeze brushes through my hair.

“You two okay?” I ask Ollie when Trish has gone to refill her glass of water.

“We are super,” he answers, piddling with a fork he used to eat his own salad, and not seeming as though he’d wish to discuss it if something were wrong.

I let him have his space. To be honest, I’m too occupied in my own misery, feeling as if every minute of my day is a waste that isn’t spent with Hendry. I’d almost resent how my thoughts of him consume me so completely if I didn’t enjoy his company so much.

When Trish plants herself in a deck chair the way a long-legged spider nestles itself in a web, Ollie does a good job of distracting me from my brain fog (I’m going to use that term all the time now, just because.) by pulling me with him to the gym. To be honest, even with all my research, I’ve completely neglected to notice the gym onboard. Ollie and I occupy a set of treadmills, and the hypnotic thrumming of footfalls and grinding of rubber fills our brains. We are so happy not to talk about a single damn thing for a while.

And then: “So what’d you do last night?”

I flinch, my attention pulled from the little movie on the monitor attached to the machine. “What? Last night? Oh …” I shrug. We’ve been running long enough that I don’t even feel the burn in my thighs anymore. I’m so out of shape. “I ate in the dining room.

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