Death by Bikini Page 3

  I glanced almost guiltily at the computer. “I, um . . . I was updating the client list, and I can’t find the Smiths’ information.”

  He stiffened and shot me a look I couldn’t decipher. Uh-oh.

  “Information?”

  “The check-in. There’s no record of them—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

  I pasted on a smile. “Oh, good. Do you want me to enter the info into the system?”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

  Just like that. No explanation. He stood next to me, calmly sifting through yesterday’s mail as if it were perfectly normal for him to have placed guests in a villa with plastic sheeting for walls and no kitchen floor.

  I reviewed the inventory sheet for Frank’s next flight, matching Dad’s calm with a calm of my own. Outwardly, at least. Inside I was screaming with frustration. Did he think I was stupid? I was there when the Smiths arrived. Even if he didn’t know about my meeting with Adam, he had to know I’d wonder where those people went.

  The worst thing was that I couldn’t pursue it any further now that he had effectively closed the conversation. I knew how stubborn he could be. I’d have to fish for information elsewhere.

  “Well, I’m done for a while.” I signed off on the sheet and filed it away. “Do you mind if I run over to the lounge for a minute? I want to get some bandages from Darlene.”

  He looked up from the mail. “Hmm? What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really. I just scraped my arm on some rocks this morning when I went swimming.” Technically, that was not a lie. It was after midnight by the time I’d gotten back to my room, so it really had been morning. I did feel bad about the half-truth, but if he knew where I’d gone the night before, I might have forfeited my trip. We had rules against swimming after dark.

  He inspected the scratch, which by then had turned a nasty, puffy umber. “You’d better have her put some disinfectant on it, too.”

  He turned back to the mail, and I went looking for answers.

  The one person on the island who keeps up with all the gossip is our lounge manager, Darlene. She’s been with us at the resort since the beginning, so she’s a fixture on the property and the closest thing to family that I have. Besides my dad, that is.

  Darlene isn’t a nurse, but she is like the resident mom, and so she’s the one in charge of the first-aid kit. I headed for the lounge and found her behind the bar, stacking glasses. As I expected, the lounge was empty—with the exception of Mick, who was sleeping in the corner, his hand half wrapped around what looked like a glass of tomato juice.

  Darlene’s face brightened when she saw me. “Eh, Aphra! What’s the haps?”

  “I need a Band-Aid.”

  Her smile disappeared. Small bandages we had back at the Plantation House, so if I was coming to her, she had to know it was something bigger. “Oh. Lemme see.”

  “It’s no big deal. Dad just told me to have you look at it.” I slid onto a bar stool and rested my arm on the counter.

  She grabbed the first-aid box from under the bar. When she saw the scratch, she grimaced. “Ai. Does it hurt?”

  “Not much.”

  “Then I’m sorry for this.” She grabbed my hand to hold it down and then spritzed my arm with antiseptic spray. “Don’ want it to get infected.”

  I hissed in a breath. The antiseptic stung and burned, but not a whole lot worse than the salt water had.

  She measured out a gauze strip. “So why you really here?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nah. Don’ be sorry. Just tell me what’s up.”

  Darlene, it should be said, knows me a whole lot better than my dad does. I should have figured she’d see right through me. “I just wanted to ask . . . It’s probably nothing.”

  “What’s nothing?”

  I hunched my shoulders. “You know villa four? Do you know if it’s still torn up?”

  “It just needs cabinets and flooring now. Maybe a little paint. Why ask me? You seen it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s been a few days, so I wondered. I just thought it was weird that Dad put the Smiths there last night.”

  She glanced up from wrapping my arm. “The who?”

  “The family that came in last night.”

  She taped off the end of the gauze, frowning. “What family?”

  My heart dropped. That was not a good sign. As manager of the lounge, Darlene had to know the comings and goings of all the guests so she could get their meals prepared and charged to the right villa. She should have gotten the paperwork ten minutes after the Smiths checked in, if not before. Even if Dad had somehow forgotten to send it over, he always met with senior staff first thing in the morning. Why wouldn’t Dad have told Darlene about them then?

  I frowned. That kind of oversight was not like him at all. He’s so obsessive with paperwork and procedure, he borders on anal. “Darlene, you saw my dad this morning, right? Did he seem a little off to—”

  “ ’Scuse me.” Mick called from his table, holding an empty glass. He had apparently woken up thirsty.

  Darlene pressed her lips together. “Sorry, honey. Duty calls. You make sure I get that family’s info, yeah?”

  I walked outside, blinking in the morning sun. Something was definitely going on. Dad hadn’t been himself since the moment the Smiths showed up in the lobby. I chewed on my lip, remembering how Mr. Smith’s words had stolen Dad’s smile. What could he have said?

  I couldn’t bear to go back to the office. Not with Dad being so weird. There were too many questions to be answered. What I really needed was a long swim so I could think, but I could hardly justify going to the beach when I was supposed to be working. If I went to clean the pool, however . . .

  During the slow months we operate at half staff, and I make extra money by taking on more jobs. Now that I’d earned my lifeguard certification and my hourly wage had inched up, Dad had added pool upkeep to my daily list of chores. So really, going to the pool was technically justified.

  There wasn’t much upkeep to do since we have an automatic filtration system and everything, but there’s always a bug or two to be skimmed from the surface of the water, especially when the mosquito population reaches its peak, as it does each year when the weather turns hot.

  At the pool house, I hung my shorts and blouse in the employee locker and padded barefoot out to the deck. Only a sprinkling of dead insects and a handful of leaves floated in the pool, but that was enough to warrant cleaning, right?

  I grabbed the skimmer and started to fish them out when I saw Bianca strolling up the walk. She looked every bit the part of a rocker chick in a retro crocheted halter-top bikini, platform sandals, and oversize white-rimmed mod sunglasses.

  “Hey, girl!” She waved as she approached. “What they got you working for on a beautiful day like today?”

  I gave her a resigned smile and a you-know-how-it-is shrug and continued cleaning the pool.

  She skirted the edge and dropped onto a chaise near where I was working. “Hey, you wanna take a break for a bit?” She patted the chair next to her. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Oh. Thank you, but—”

  “Please. Ray’s off doing his thing somewhere, so I don’t have anyone to talk to. You can keep me company.”

  Ray was Mick’s island pseudonym. The one he chose for himself, that is. I have to tell you, visiting with Bianca was tempting. She was without a doubt one of the most interesting people I’d ever met on the island. But visiting with guests was just not something I did. Be helpful, yes. Be pleasant and polite, yes. But visit? No, thank you. It was better just to keep my distance.

  “Ah, c’mon. We can talk about that new kid you were with last night.”

  That was all it took. I set down my pole.

  She grinned triumphantly. “I saw you from our veranda last night, coming up from the beach. He’s a hot-tie, that one. I’d hang on to him if I were you.”

 
I could actually feel the blush creeping across my cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s always like that.”

  “He’s a guest.”

  “And?”

  “It’s just . . . I don’t . . .”

  She winked. “Of course you don’t.”

  I fell silent, and my discomfort must have amused her because she laughed.

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. Come on. Sit.” She patted the seat cushion again. “I’ll play nice, I promise.”

  I sat.

  She sighed with exaggerated contentment. “See? Isn’t that better?”

  I nodded.

  “Nice pool.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ooh, I love it. You’re so proper and polite.”

  “Thank you.” I gave her an elaborate seated curtsy this time, which made her laugh again.

  “There it is! I knew you had a personality lurking behind the mask.”

  I blinked. “Mask?” Me?

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen you around, acting all professional and aloof. What are you, like, seventeen?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Even worse. You should be out partying. Or at least not being so damn careful all the time. Believe me, life’s too short.”

  Careful? That was my dad, not me. I was . . . smart. Smart to toe the line with school and work. Smart not to rock the boat. Smart to maintain an appropriate distance from the guests. But that remark stung. Or hit too close to home.

  I fought hard for a comeback, but nothing sprang to mind except, “At least I’m not lying around a swimming pool less than two hundred yards from the beach.”

  “What?” She laughed, free and happy. “Well, I suppose you’ve got a point. However”—she crossed her long legs—“some people don’t like sand.”

  “What’s the draw of a beach resort, then? Why not vacation in Kansas or someplace with a really great pool instead of flying three thousand miles to find the ocean?”

  “They have great pools in Kansas?”

  I laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “So this is a pet peeve of yours, is it?”

  I hesitated. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut.

  “C’mon.” Bianca leaned back on the chaise, grinning. “Give it to me straight.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Before we came here, my dad ran a resort in South Carolina that sat on the most gorgeous beach you’ve ever seen. White sand, crystal clear water. But that wasn’t good enough for the owners. They built a huge swimming pool up on a platform so that it looked like it spilled over into the ocean. It was pretty, but it ruined the beach—and, come on. A pool just isn’t the same as the ocean. It has no energy. No life.”

  “So true.” Bianca swung her legs over the side of the chaise. “You know what? You’ve inspired me. I’m tired of waiting around for Ray. I think I’ll keep it real and go to the beach. And besides”—she lowered her sunglasses— “three’s a crowd.”

  I followed her gaze to see Adam coming down the terraced steps toward the pool. He was shirtless, in a pair of royal blue board shorts that offset his tanned skin. He moved smoothly, all broad shoulders and six-pack abs. I let out an appreciative breath.

  A knowing smile spread across Bianca’s face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “No . . . I’m not—”

  She laughed and stood up. “Nice hangin’ with you, kid.” Sliding her sunglasses into place, she strolled off toward the beach.

  Adam waved when he noticed I was watching him. He took the last few steps two at a time.

  “Hi!” I waved back. “What’re you up to this morning?”

  “Looking for you.”

  I swear I must have blushed all the way up from my toenails. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze wandered beyond me to the deserted pool. “So is this where you guard all those lives?”

  I laughed. “Yes. As you can see, it’s a very demanding job.”

  “Is it always this busy?”

  “Pretty much. When the resort’s full, we get a handful of sun lizards, but that’s about it.”

  He eyed my bandage. “How’s that doing?”

  “This? It’s fine.”

  “Can you get it wet?”

  “I guess.”

  “So . . .” He gestured with his head toward the pool.

  “Oh. I can’t. I’m supposed to be working.”

  “Ah.” He looked at his feet. “Got it. Do you mind if I . . . ?”

  “No, not at all.”

  I stepped back as he kicked off his sandals and executed a perfect dive from the side of the pool. He surfaced just as gracefully, his dark hair slicked back and dripping.

  “Very nice.”

  He didn’t answer, but sank beneath the water. A second later, he came up thrashing. “Agh! Leg cramp! Help! Help!”

  I laughed. “Hold on. I’ll throw you a life preserver.”

  He stopped sloshing. “You’re no fun.”

  “I’m working.”

  “And I’m drowning. As the lifeguard, isn’t it your job to save me?”

  I hesitated. On the one hand, I had been planning on going swimming. I just hadn’t planned on Adam being with me. I probably shouldn’t . . . but then I remembered Bianca’s mocking grin. I was being careful again. What would it hurt? If she could deal with sand between her toes, I could let myself relax a little. I closed my eyes and jumped into the pool before I could change my mind.

  Once I got in the water, I remembered that I hadn’t finished skimming the pool. I cringed, scooping up a mosquito carcass and flinging it onto the deck.

  “That’s an interesting ritual.”

  I spotted another bloodsucker and scooped it out as well. “I should get out and get the net.”

  “For what? A couple of bugs? We went swimming in the lakes all the time back home. This is nothing.”

  I hooked my elbows over the lip of the pool and let my legs float behind me. The cement was warm under my arms. “So, where’s home?”

  “Uh . . . Montana.”

  “Where in Montana?”

  He hesitated. “Butte.”

  “Why the pause? Can’t you remember?”

  “I . . . wasn’t sure you’d know where it was, you know, since you live so far away.”

  I swatted water at him. “I’ve only been here four years, and I do remember my geography, thank you very much. I learned all the states and capitals before I was six.”

  “Me, too,” he boasted. “And all the major freeways.”

  I drew back. “Seriously? I thought I was the only weird kid who did that. My mom and I used to map imaginary road trips, and I had to figure out the distance and time traveled.”

  He laughed. “Wow. I was just kidding, but you really know them? That is weird.”

  Well, that deserved some kind of a comeback, but I couldn’t think of one, so I splashed him. He splashed me back. I splashed him again, a little harder this time. He laughed and grabbed me, trying to wrestle me under the water. I hooked my arm around his neck so he couldn’t dunk me without going down himself, but it didn’t faze him. We both went under. He grinned at me, cheeks all puffed up like a double-sided balloon. I grinned right back. I’d been building my endurance for years, with my swimming ritual and all. I could outlast him.

  But he was still with me when my lungs started to burn. Still with me as the ache in my chest turned into desperation. Finally, I had to break free and push for the surface. He followed, but I came up first.

  “Not bad for a girl.”

  “Yeah? Well, I was just protecting your fragile male ego.”

  He laughed at that, and the conversation lulled. I took the opportunity to climb from the pool so I could dry off on one of the lounge chairs. Adam followed.

  We sat quietly for a moment. I turned to him. “Hey, did our dads know each other before you got here?”

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t think so. Why?”

>   “Just wondering. The way they were talking the other night…”

  “Oh. I didn’t hear what they were saying. Did you?”

  “No. It just seemed like they might be . . . old friends.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Dad never mentioned it.”

  “How did you decide to come to our resort for your vacation?”

  “That’s easy. I heard you had the hottest lifeguard around, and I begged until the parents gave in.”

  I blushed hot and looked away.

  “What? No more questions? Okay. It’s my turn. Is Aphra a family name? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

  “Well, it’s not really a family name, like my aunt or grandma shares it or anything, but my mom chose it, if that counts. She named me after Aphra Behn.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Are you kidding? Only one of the first professional women writers. She was also a spy for King Charles II. My mom, she used to be really into spies and stuff like that.”

  “Used to be? So she isn’t anymore?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a while. She left when we moved here.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  I picked at a seam on the chaise. Well, that was one way to kill a conversation. Which was probably a good thing because it saved him the tedium of hearing how it felt to find out at twelve years old that you are going to a new place with no friends, no school, no television, no movie theaters, no malls, no fast food, and, by the way, no mom.

  “Moving sucks,” he said finally. “It changes everything. Each new place, you have to reinvent yourself to suit the situation. It’s like you have no control over anything.”

  “I know! Your whole life gets rearranged, and you’re just supposed to accept it.”

  “Well, at least you got to move here. It’s a lot better than ending up in West Bloom—” He seemed to catch himself and paused for a second. “You know, a lot of people would love to live in a place like this.”

  “No, a lot of people would love to visit a place like this. There’s a difference.”

  “So, do you miss it? Your home before here?”

  I shrugged. “I was only twelve when we left South Carolina. But I miss the things I wish I was doing.”