Fifteen minutes later, we’ve successfully handled the five people waiting to book a scuba tour and a sunset dinner cruise. Well, I should say Maile handled the five people as I stood there and listened to what she offered them and booked them into the system. And I must say I was super impressed when she checked the Japanese couple in for their dinner cruise all while speaking to them in their native tongue.
A guy a few years older than us with a buzz cut and starched khakis strides by. He gives Maile a two-fingered salute, taps his watch, then gives her a thumbs-up. She shoots him a fake smile and returns the thumbs-up, but as soon as he’s out of sight, she replaces her thumb with her middle finger.
“Asshole.” She blows out a breath, then cracks a real smile for me. “That’s Rick the Dick. He supervises the activities counter and dive shop and is always waiting for me to screw up. Oh, and he’s bipolar but severely undermedicated, so do your best to keep up with his many moods.” She flips off the space where he was again, just for good measure. “Man, he’s such a jerk. But thanks for your help in opening on time. I’m pretty sure you just saved my ass from getting canned.”
“Hey, no worries.” And I mean it, too. We only just met, but Maile has somehow managed to make me feel like we’ve known each other much longer than that. Something I didn’t think was possible without having years of history together. She’s so different from Mick, and I almost feel like I’m cheating on my best friend, but maybe this is exactly what I need right now.
At one point during my shift, I think I catch a glimpse of Finn out by the pool. Then again, the pool is crowded with a million bodies, so I’m not sure if it’s really him or some creative part of my brain hoping it is. Maile takes her time getting me trained on the system in between helping guests. Within an hour, I’m actually pretty proficient at getting guests set up with booze cruises and those cheesy luaus. The ones where the staff is so not Hawaiian and they’re wearing plastic grass skirts and fake coconuts over their boobs, all while training the guests to say “a-looooooooo-HA!”
And even Rick the Dick stops by to introduce himself, but funny, he leaves that last part off his name. He disgustingly flirts with Maile as he subconsciously picks at a scaly patch of dry skin near his elbow, laying it on thick even with all the signs she gives that he doesn’t stand a chance. He leaves when his walkie-talkie squawks, and Maile instantly pulls out a bottle of spray bleach and a cleaning rag, dousing the counter area where he was leaning. My guess is she’s totally done that before.
“So disgusting. Gawd, and to think I actually kissed him once.” She tentatively looks at the damp cleaning rag in her hand as if she might use it to disinfect her lips, but thinks otherwise.
“Oh, you’ve gotta give me more than that. Come on.” I cross my arms and wait, letting her know I’ll stand like that forever until she spills.
“It’s not that big a deal, really. Just a stupid drunk moment a few months ago, but believe me, nothing else happened.” I give her another look. “Seriously, nothing else happened, because…well, I kinda threw up on him while we were kissing.”
She cringes, and I burst out laughing.
“Oh, shut it, I already feel bad enough as it is!” But she laughs along with me, so I know she’s only joking.
“I’m sorry, Maile, it’s just that something really similar happened to me. And I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know I’m not the only one who’s ever puked on a guy!”
Shaking her head, she leans over with her fist extended, and we bump them together. Yep, Maile and I are gonna get along just fine.
She prints out the report for our sales that morning, as another girl around our age walks in, laughing. A guy with shaggy blond hair and dimples that make me want to dip my pinky fingers in and twirl ducks in behind her. They’re both wearing the same uniforms as Maile and me.
“Looks like our replacement crew is here!” Maile chimes as she knocks the register drawer shut with her hip.
“What’s up, ladies! You’re both officially done for the day! And if I were you, I’d run…run as fast and far away as you can!” The girl takes Maile’s bag from the closet and replaces it with her own. I notice that she’s grabbed mine as well. But before handing the bag over to Maile, she leans in and kisses her, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind Maile’s ear.
“That is so hot.” This from the guy with the dimples. He’s staring with that dumb look only guys ever get, leaving no doubt which head he’s thinking with.
“Oh, shut up, Drew.” Maile rolls her eyes and takes her bag from her friend. “Stace, this is Sloane McIntyre. Sloane, this is my girlfriend, Stacey Silver.”
“Nice to meet you, Sloane. And this is Drew, but he also goes by Horndog.” Stacey walks over and hands me my backpack with her left hand extended. Clearly, she saw my cast. She’s a cute little thing, no taller than me. Her blond hair is slicked in a perfect ponytail, and she flicks her bangs from her eyes as if they’ve reached that point where they’re just a tad too long.
I shake her hand and take my bag. “It’s nice to meet you. And nice to meet you as well, Horndog, was it?” I offer up my hand to shake his, but instead, he flips it over and brings it up to his lips.
“Baby, you can call me whatever you want.” His mouth pauses against my knuckles, before both Maile and Stacey groan out loud. Drew ducks as paper clips and wadded-up balls of paper fly his way. “What, you know I’m only teasing!”
“Yeah, we know that, but Sloane doesn’t!”
After saying good-bye—and reassuring Maile I’ll be back again in two days—I cut through the pool area on my way to the parking garage. I casually glance around for a particular tattoo and am a little bummed when I don’t find what I’m looking for.
With thirty minutes to get home, I have just enough time to swap the car with Penn so he can get back here for his shift this afternoon. Pulling out my phone, I shoot him a quick text to let him know I’m on my way and see I’ve got four new messages along with an e-mail, all from Tyler. Ignoring them, I click open a new text from Mia.
As I’m busy reading about the drama that ensued at the floral shop where she works—something to do with a crate of tropical flowers that came in today, complete with rare spiders not native to the Islands—I maneuver my way around guests and the occasional deck chair with ease. I can only imagine how badly Mia freaked out. She hates anything with more legs than her, and the visual of all five feet ten inches of her needing to be scraped from the ceiling makes me laugh out loud.
Of course being glued to my phone like I am means I don’t see the rowdy bunch of tweens that just so happen to pick that moment to swarm around me and dive into the pool. Taking me with them.
Breaking the surface, I sputter out half the pool and swipe dripping hair from my eyes. Limbs and water fly everywhere as kids whoop and holler, and my cell phone is now sitting at the bottom of the pool, my half-zipped backpack and some of its contents floating all around me. Of course that’s also when I hear him laugh.
I turn to see Finn standing on the deck in a pair of swim trunks, a towel slung over one bare shoulder, his tattoo peeking out here and there from underneath. He laughs even harder when I take a lesson from Maile and flip him the bird.