Page 57 of Playing With Matches
“Oh for goodness sake, Marco,” Isla laughs. “You are welcome to join us at the lazy river. You just may be floating in circles with Jackson and not me. I’m going to be parked in my lounge chair, writing.”
“We will stay busy, eh, Jackson?” Marco punches me in the arm and winks. “You still need Marco to be your wingman, no?”
“Is that Edwina?” I notice the concierge coming through the door, smiling and waving. Perhaps she’s found another room for me? My heart judders unexpectedly. I’m not so sure I want another room now. She threads her way to our table.
“Good news, Mr. Porter! We’ve contacted the man who drove you here and apparently he has retrieved your backpack. He’s off island today, but he’ll be around tomorrow and he said he can bring the bag by then.”
“See!” Isla snaps. “I told you! Have a little faith in your fellow man!”
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” I say. “I’ll believe it when I have my laptop back in my own hands.”
“You are using a laptop to warm the eggs?” Marco’s face is screwed up as he tries to untangle the colloquialism. “I am confused, Jackson. You know we are not supposed to have the social media here.”
“I know,” I grit my teeth.
Marco leans in and winks conspiratorially at Isla. “But I tell you a secret, Bella. Marco has an iPad. You want some instagram, some TikTok, some Netflix and chill? No problem. You come see Marco.”
* * *
Marco squeezesa snot-like snake of his jellified skin lotion onto the back of his shoulder and leans over to Isla on the shaded chaise lounge between us, where she is sitting, happily typing away. He flexes his biceps as he asks a favor.
“I am so sorry to bother you, Bella, but I need a little help with the rubbing,” he angles his beefy shoulder towards her.
Isla looks up, then glances down at her keyboard. “Sorry, Marco. I don’t want to get any sunscreen on the keyboard. I’m sure Jackson can help you.” She smiles and looks between us, and we both freeze.
Neither one of us wants to be the awkward asshole who says, “Ew no, I’m not touching anotherdude.”
So naturally, I go to the other extreme. “I got you, Bro!” I announce, getting to work rubbing the lotion into Marco’s shoulder like a pro.
“Wow! You have such good hands, considering they are so tiny,” Marco effuses. I deliberately miss a large area and then slap him with a sunscreen covered hand in it. That’ll leave a mark.
“You’re done, Dude,” I say.
“Do you want Marco to do you, Bella?” Marco holds out the sunscreen to Isla.
“Oh, no thanks. I put mine on back in the room. As a ginger, I can’t be too careful,” she points to the umbrella and her hat. “But maybe you should get Jackson’s back?” I see her licking her lips and smiling a tart little smile at me. And then, the moment Marco glances away, she winks.
“Of course, of course,” Marco says. He makes minimal effort to rub the sunscreen into my back, performing flappy little pats, instead.
“Interesting technique,” I say.
A burst of reggae music comes on over the speakers as an invisible emcee makes an announcement.
“Ladies and gentleman, we are about to open the flow rider in the waterpark. Who’s up for a surfing safari?”
I hear a loud rushing noise as the jets for the surf simulator come on. A bunch of little boys come running over to the area where we’re seated, lining up to take a turn on it.
“Have you ever gone surfing?” Marco asks.
“Not since I was a kid,” I admit. Surfing and sailing were things I’d done with my dad when I was very young. Before the drinking got bad. I’d kept up with the sailing when I joined Boy Scouts, but I probably haven’t been on a board since I was ten.
Still, how hard can it be? I watch as a kid who can’t be older than nine or ten bounces up and slices back and forth on the artificial wave.
“Marco loves to surf! I learned in Portugal when I dated a surfer girl,” he brags, then dials it back a smidge. “Not to worry, Bella Isla. She was not so pretty as you. She has thighs like… Jackson.” He looks at my legs and shudders.
That’s it. I’m calling his bluff.
“Let’s do it,“ I point at the flow rider. “Loser picks up the drinks.”
