‘Set ‘em up, Sandy … and one for the kid,’ said the fat man in an outsize shirt with a picture of a shark on the front. He grinned at me. I could smell a mixture of his sweat and classy cologne wafting closer.
I guess when you’re bumming around Hawaii and sleeping on the beach you’d never see how the rich guys live. Never see their palaces; never see anything, really. Apart from coconut palms lofting over their high walls.
That’s what I thought.
Sandy’s bar was perched on a drag end of Napoopoo beach; too far out of the mainstream and too close to the ebbing tide. But it attracted the movie producers – you know – the big names.
Some of them, gays.
Two of them; the fat one with greasy hair and the other a matchstick with a nose like Barry Manilow, vied for my attention. Okay, I’m not Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt but I can hold my own. I lucked out. Had my drinks – Bacardi and coke – wiped from my tab. The conversation veered.
‘Hi kid. Want to fuck around?’
Look, don’t get me wrong. I’m totally into women, but gays pay my tab – it’s a game I play. Beats begging even if they call me kid.
The fat one slid a hundred bucks across the bar. ‘This change your mind?’
‘No. I’m straight’
‘Well kid, surfing is out of season.’
The guys exchanged glances. I could see it coming. But it wasn’t what I expected.
The matchstick man gave me a smile. ‘Honesty and integrity. Know what I mean?’
No, I didn’t – well yes I did - but I wasn’t playing. I kept quiet.
The fat one took the plunge. ‘Kid, we need someone to look after our property while we’re away.’ He gave me a winsome smirk. ‘Can you handle it?’
‘Why me?’ I suppose it was a stupid question by the way they glanced at each other and then back. I could tell from their body language that I was – well, let’s just say, on a scale of one to ten, I rated a big fat zero.
The fat one gave me the spiel. ‘Athletic six-footer. I kinda like your accent … you know, you’ve got balls, kid.’ He pulled out a wad. ‘Two thousand bucks, one month.’
I guess I was tempted. The bills were staring at me. I took a gamble. ‘No way,’ I said.
The matchstick piped up. ‘And another two if the house is clean when we get back.’ He leered across the bar, nose pointing at me. ‘We get a drugs bust, and we bust your ass.’
One thing about surfing – you’ve gotta wait for the right wave – it’s kinda knowing when to jump on board. I got up. ‘Nice meeting you,’ I said, turning around. A girl was standing there; she must have snuck in.
The fat guy put up a hand, pointing to the new arrival. ‘I’ll throw in Linda.’
‘Hi,’ she said.
I stopped moving. Stared at her; plenty to stare at. A hot babe with long dark hair down past her bare shoulders, who stirred up fantasies. I wrenched my eyes away and turned back to the gays. ‘Who’s she?’
The matchstick laughed. ‘Our cover story, kid. She’s our house guest.’
Linda had all the curves of the right wave, and more. Call me a romantic, but I jumped on board - four thousand bucks and Linda was sweet music. I swiveled around and grinned at her. ‘I’m Shayne. When do I start?’
On my first day in charge of the mansion Linda tortured me with her body while I got the hang of how everything worked. That evening, after a few drinks and a few chaste kisses, she gave me that look that suggested plenty but it never materialized.
She shimmied out of the way with a big smile on her face when I got too close.
‘Not now, Shayne. Later, okay?’
‘Aw, c’mon ... we can fool around awhile.’
We were watching some movies on the big screen in the lounge when I made my play but she softly pushed me away.
‘You want a game?’ She pointed at the pool table. ‘Rack up the balls.’
I shifted my ass from the lounger and set it up. She was wearing a white shirt tied up under her breasts and silky, blue hot-pants. I had a great view of her butt when she bent to take her shot and my game never got off the blocks.
Nor did anything else.
I slept alone in the penthouse suite with a Playboy Jacuzzi and a view of the star-filled sky above my king-size bed. It could have been heaven, but Linda slept in one of the guestrooms on the floor below.
Alone – apart from a huge Teddy Bear – so she said.
I hadn’t got around to counting all the rooms and, apart from myself and Linda, nobody lived there. Everything else - a cordon-bleu chef, a daily maid, pool and grounds maintenance - was contracted out to a local service company, “Kandoo”. One phone call and they took care of it.
I was bored.
Until Linda shared the next day with me by the pool. It was a cool seventy-five feet long with a state of the art filtration system and a wave machine. She arrived with her towel while I was practicing my dives from the springboard.
‘Hi,’ she said, waving to me.
She was wearing a tiny white bikini that showed off her tanned skin - and emphasized her taut stomach and long legs. Preoccupied, I slipped off the side of the board in a tangle of arms and legs and she laughed when I surfaced.
‘Duh. Call yourself a surfer?’
I felt blood rushing to my face; embarrassed and tongue-tied, I couldn’t think of a suitable response. So I winced in pain, instead.
‘My leg hurts.’
She laughed again. ‘My hero.’ She beckoned me with one finger. ‘Show me.’
I paddled across to the pool steps and climbed out clutching my leg. Picked up my bag and hobbled across to where she was sitting on the lounger.
‘Dry yourself first.’
I toweled down while we checked each other out. I hoped she was seeing good things. A season’s surfing had kept me in shape - despite some nightly excesses when my tab was picked up by some gay loser who had hit on me. Women were easy; plenty of vacation junkies wanting lessons and sex after.
But not Linda.
Her vibes were low-key as though she was waiting for something – or someone. I wasn’t sure but she seemed preoccupied.
She patted the lounger. ‘Sit down and rest.’
I could sit down next to her, but I couldn’t rest when she touched my leg and began to massage the muscles. Her fingers were soft and supple. I put on my sun-shades and closed my eyes.
‘That feels good,’ I said. I was going to return the compliment when her cell phone buzzed. I opened my eyes, she was frowning at the display - but then she got up and headed towards the gently swaying palm trees in the garden. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but she was nodding her head as if agreeing, before disappearing out of view.
I closed my eyes again and settled back into the warmth of the afternoon sun...
...And awoke to see Linda hunched over me, topless, and going at it like a bitch on heat.
With that view, it didn’t take long.
‘That’s for starters,’ she said, licking her lips.
I frowned through my grin. ‘Starters?’
She gave me a come-on look; the same one that promised fulfillment of my wildest fantasies, and I could think of many.
‘Main course tonight, babe ... after the coke.’
While something at the back of my mind murmured caution, I ignored it – my inflated ego was bigger than my brain.
I should have listened.