Page 49 of Beach Bodies

‘It’s metastasized, so… he’s gonna let it run its course.’

Oof. In reality, I barely know Randy. I see him once or twice a summer. Why does this feel like such a blow?

‘Cancer is such a bitch,’ I say.

‘Sure is,’ says Sean. ‘But you know, he misses Brenda. He says he’s ready to go.’

I nod empathetically, but I don’t relate. I miss Jessica, too, but I can’t imagine myself being ready to go. I have too much unfinished business.

‘Oh, hey,’ says Sean. ‘We’re having a big retirement party for Randy on Friday. You should come.’ He reaches for a stack of blue paper by the register and hands me the top sheet. Randy’s smiling face is at the top, in black and white. Beneath, in Comic Sans font, the page reads:Randy’s Retirement Bash! Trivia, Half-Price Drinks and More From 7p.m.! Don’t Miss It!

‘You might take a few, get some Riovaners up here,’ Sean suggests, handing me some more copies. ‘I know Randy would love to see Vic. They used to hang.’

‘Sure, no problem,’ I say. I promise to put them up in the staff break room and other public places, and to personally hand one to Vic.

I choose a table under a fan, where there’s lots of light, and connect my laptop to the wifi. It takes a minute, so I trail my eyes over the pictures Randy has hung on the wall– a younger Randy with a surfboard under his arm. Various celebrity surfers at Island Vibes raising the famous daiquiri in salute. A faded shot of Brenda, Randy’s wife, from the 1970s, pregnant and smiling, here on Saint Lisieux. They came here together as a couple a few times over the years.

Like me and Jessica.

It’s strange how I’ve never noticed this similarity. Randy and I both came here with our romantic partners; we both lost them. I guess the similarity ends there, since he came back permanently to follow a dream. I just dip in once a year to chase my nightmare.

Finally, the wifi connects and I turn my attention to my laptop screen. The Riovan Guest Services Portal loads slowly, in calming shades of blue. I tap in Vic’s info, and after a short wait, I’m in. The first two years, I had to break into Vic’s office for this part of the process, too. Thank God they moved to the Cloud.

In spite of Island Vibes’ less than lightning-fast wifi, it’s an easy system to navigate, and it tracks absolutely everything for everyone staying at the resort. The courses they’ve signed up for. Appointments with nutritionists, counsellors, coaches, chiropractors. Scheduled spa services. Also, their allergies. The medications they take.

I type in Daniel Black, then take a long sip of sweet, cold coffee while I wait for the page to load.

Ah. He’s sitting in on Pat Burton’s seminar today,Mindful Healing. But other than that… not many services. A massage at the spa later on today, and that’s it. Huh.

The Riovan costs an arm and a leg, so most people pack their schedules. Jessica sure did. Why doesn’t Daniel want the full experience for his article? Surely the magazine is paying for this. If all you’re doing is hanging out on a warm beach and hitting on the lifeguard, you can do that without leaving the good old U.S. of A.

Whatever. I’m not here to figure out why toxic assholes like Daniel Black do anything. I’m here to figure out how to kill them. And what do you know? Under allergies, Daniel has a nice big red warning: lethally allergic to sesame. Wow. Why are my shoulders suddenly super tense? I should be feeling great about this. Killing someone is rarely this damn simple. I stare at the screen for a long beat, imagining myself slipping some sesame oil into Daniel’s food. It would be so easy: ask him on a date, and when he’s in the bathroom, boom. I could do it without breaking a sweat. So why am I suddenly sweating?

I roll my shoulders, then shake myself.Moving on.

Craig is up next. I type his name into the search bar and pull up his file with a click. He has that heart condition, which I already knew about– unstable angina pectoris. I looked it up a few nights ago, and his risk of sudden heart attack is definitely higher, which is good to know. That could appear ‘natural’ for sure. He’s on anticoagulants and takes aspirin regularly. The nutritionist has him on a low-fat diet– no surprise there– and there’s a note that he is absolutely not able to do intense physical activity. As I peruse his schedule, I notice that he has a standing appointment for one of the individual sauna rooms every day he’s here. An appointment that only lasts five minutes. A little internet research tells me that,in his condition, staying in the sauna for much longer could be lethal. That, or dousing him in really cold water right after his session. That could set off a heart attack. Though I struggle to picture myself storming in with a bucket of ice water. What if it didn’t work? That would be awkward. Dumping him into a cold pool would be better, but if he passed out in the heat, how would I carry him from the sauna room to the pool? Things to think about.

Finally, I look up Serena. As VP, her information in the system isn’t as extensive as a guest’s, but it does display the services she’s booked with her 50 per cent management discount. She’s seeing a life coach once a week. She has a lot of cosmetic treatments lined up– a weekly facial, the Seaweed Body Wrap, a mani-pedi. Everything I might have expected. Even though I’ve already imagined staging a ‘slip’ on the stairs, it’s a little disappointing that there’s not something as obvious as, say, Daniel’s allergy. Damn it… why couldn’tshehave the sesame allergy? Still, there’s always a way. Let’s see… Could I somehow poison her body wrap? Though a poison absorbed through the skin doesn’t feel like it would be fast-acting enough. I make a mental note to research this further, but… maybe an accident is my best bet with her after all? The thing is, even though a pushsoundssimple, it’s risky. I’ve only pushed someone once, and it’s definitely not my favourite method; too much can go wrong. However, if you can pull it off, it does leave the least evidence behind. High risk, high reward.

‘Hey, you want that bowl of poké?’

I snap the laptop shut and smile up at Sean, who’s looking amused. I glance at the clock. Wow– two hours have gone by.

‘You know I do,’ I say.

‘Coming right up. Any allergies?’

I almost laugh. ‘Nope.’

I look around the place as Sean disappears into the kitchen. The light has shifted. Everyone who was here earlier is gone, and a sparse lunch crowd has taken over. A couple of teens holding hands across a table. An old man drinking a beer with half-closed eyes and ignoring his sandwich. Two loud Americans– a guy in board shorts, a girl in a bikini– sharing nachos. The scent of the spiced meat wafts over and my stomach growls.

My phone vibrates against the table with an incoming call just as Sean returns with the poké bowl, a mountain of rosy fresh tuna pieces sprinkled with bright orange roe. Perfectly fanned avocado slices, and a sprinkling of sesame seeds like a wink from the universe.

I gesture my thanks as I pick up my phone. It’s a WhatsApp call. As soon as I see who it is, my gut clenches and my heart races. There’s no question; I have to answer.

‘Hi Beth Ann,’ I say into the phone. Already, I sound stiff and cold, not like myself at all, but I don’t know how to be any other way with Jessica’s mom. We never shared a lot of love. Maybe she could tell how hard I was trying to impress her back when Jessica introduced me, our first Thanksgiving together. Maybe she didn’t like that I had no family, no mom, no ‘roots’ as she called them. Or maybe she just didn’t like that her daughter was with a woman.

Now, of course, she has all the reason in the world to openly hate me. I’m the person responsible for her losing her daughter.

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