Chapter 22

Pippa left the marina and wandered down the promenade next to the beach, sadness filling her heart. A part of her wanted so badly to stay, but she knew the attraction between them was only one bad mistake away from flaring up and that wasn’t something that would benefit either of them.

First she would look for a place to stay and then find another job to rebuild her life – without River. He was better off without her.

About two blocks away from the beach were several cheap hostels for backpackers. She tried the first one, but was turned away as they were full, as were the next five on the street.

“Are there any hostels on the island that might have a vacancy for tonight?” Pippa asked the receptionist, doing her best to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“Probably not. This coming weekend is the popular and famous Love Festival and everyone is fully booked. We’re already taking reservations for next year.” The Love Festival was a huge event featuring house music, more than fifty international and local artists and tens of thousands of tourists dancing and singing on the beach. College students from all over the world flocked to the festival to have a good time. Booze flowed freely and sex on the beach wasn’t just another cocktail.

Love Festival. Exactly what I need, since I’ve just dumped my best chance at love into the deep end of the ocean. “And there’s no vacant rooms at all on the entire island?” Pippa asked.

“Sorry, darling, not in this price range anyway. You might want to check at the hotels up at the beachfront.”

“Thanks.” Pippa grimaced and turned to leave. Those hotels easily cost two or three hundred dollars per night. Way out of her budget.

“Or…” the receptionist said and Pippa turned around, hope filling her soul. “… you could take an island hopper flight to Curacao or Bonaire. They have plenty of space, since all the tourists are with us.”

Pippa’s hopes shattered. She managed to thank the receptionist and left the hostel. What now?

Maybe she could crash on Rosie’s couch for another night. Yes. She would do that, she would even offer to pay. Pippa walked to Rosie’s apartment complex and rang the bell, but nobody answered.

Of course not. She must be working during the day. Pippa knew Rosie was a server in one of the restaurants, but she didn’t remember which one. She sat on the stairs leading to the entrance door and grabbed the water bottle from her backpack.

After sitting in the shade for about fifteen minutes, the entrance door opened and a petite woman in her fifties wearing an apron and two huge rubbish bags exited the building.

Several minutes later the woman came back, swiped her hands on her apron and looked at Pippa. “You waiting for someone?”

“Actually, yes, missis. Would you know where Rosie, the girl from the first floor works?”

The woman shook her head. “Miss Rosie gone. She visit her family and come back next month.”

“Thank you.” Pippa fought the lump in her throat, her last hope dying a slow, painful death. Then she stored her water bottle in the backpack, heaved it onto her shoulders and followed the sidewalk back toward the beach promenade.

You could ask River to stay one more night on his boat. A voice in her head suggested. But she wouldn’t have any of it. No way would she return to him begging for a place to sleep, admitting that she had just reached another low in her life.

Pippa gazed at the miles of white sand lying in front of hear, and the dark cliffs at the very end. Her feet took step after step along the waterline, while she wallowed in depressing thoughts. Occasionally, she flopped onto the sand, drinking some water and looking out to sea, without actually seeing anything.

Daniel’s final revenge nipped at her heels, chasing away every hope. He’d threatened to cut her off and make her wish she was dead…but wasn’t losing your freedom of choice a fate worse than death for a woman? Pippa suppressed a shiver. She had only the wage for last week’s work, no job, no place to stay…she wasn’t much better off than the many homeless beggars who wandered the island and ended up dead beneath a palm tree.

As evening rolled in she decided to return to town, and get something to eat and enough booze to forget her predicament. She bought a hot dog from one of the beach vendors and then stepped into the first beach bar she came across, oblivious to the fact it was Crazy Drinks – where she’d met River in the first place.

“A rum runner,” Pippa said.

“Coming right up, sugar. How you doing today?” the bar keeper asked.

“Fine,” she answered, but her grave voice belied her words.

She’d barely finished her drink, when a bunch of American college guys arrived. No doubt they were here for the Love Festival starting tomorrow.  

“You been on the island long?” one of them wanted to know, as they surrounded her, ordering beers.

“Long enough. What are you guys here for?” Pippa smiled at them and then tossed back the rest of her drink.

“Love Festival. Fun, fun, and more fun. That’s what we need after exams,” one of them said with a wink. “Get the lady another one,” he ordered the bar keeper who promptly mixed a second Rum Runner and put it in front of Pippa.

“Cheers!” Beer bottles clinked. Pippa sipped her cocktail and engaged in small talk with them. Typical college guys, she thought, with nothing but drinks and sex on their minds. They’d surely find willing girls at the festival.

“You’re awfully pretty,” a hunky blond guy said.

Pippa flushed and looked away. Heat crept up the back of her neck and landed on her cheeks. She had no idea, how many guys she was talking to, but she didn’t care, either. Forgetting. She wanted to forget about her miserable situation. And some harmless flirting proved a fitting distraction.

As soon as she’d finished her cocktail, another one appeared in front of her. This time an orange-colored liquid in a long, curvy glass with a colorful umbrella sticking out of it. It tasted sweet and tangy at the same time, smoothly running down her throat.

Damn, it’s hot in here. Pippa rolled up the hem of her shirt and tucked it beneath her bra. In doing so, she knocked over a beer bottle with her elbow and spilled it across her bare legs. One of the guys quickly wiped her thighs with something.

“Darlin’, why don’t you switch to water for a while?” the bar keeper who’d introduced himself as Joe asked her.

“Nah. I’m fine. I want another of those sweet ones,” Pippa slurred.

Joe gave her a strange glance as if he wanted to say something.

“You heard the pretty lady; she wants another drink,” someone said. That someone high-fived his buddies and then tossed several large bills down on the bar top. “Keep the liquor flowing for me, my buddies, and this lovely lady right here.”

Pippa’s head swam with alcohol-soaked thoughts, but she managed to keep herself anchored on the bar stool. “Aw… thanks. So another cocktail it is!”

The bartender scowled as he set the glass in front of her, but she ignored him. What did he know? He probably had a nice home, enough money for the rent and friends or family who cared for him. He couldn’t possibly understand her current state of desolation.

The blond guy sidled up to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, but she didn’t care. Her words came faster with every sip of her cocktail, but in such a slurred manner, she barely understood herself. She waved her hands in the air to emphasize what she’d been saying and jumped off the bar stool to demonstrate.

That one attempt at standing upright almost turned into a disaster. Am I back on the ship? Why’s everything moving and spinning? One of the guys captured her in his arms and she flopped against his chest as her legs gave out. He pressed her tight against his hard body and whispered into her ear, “Wanna dance, sweetheart?”

“There’s no dance floor,” Pippa managed to say as she focused on the bar. Apart from the small wooden area with the bar stools atop, there was only sand. But she might be mistaken, because blurred vision had come to join her swimming head. Too many lights dancing up and down in her line of sight.

 “The kind of dancing I have in mind doesn’t require much room. Come on,” he whispered, pressing her tighter against him and falling into a slow movement, swaying his hips together with hers.

Pippa closed her eyes to get rid of the twisting lights, but then the spinning increased and she threw them open, slumping against the guy holding her. I wish you were River.

“Darlin’, you’re done for the night.” Joe grabbed her shoulder from behind, holding up a bottle of water. “You need to sober up a bit.”

“Hey, old man, mind your own business.”

“She’s had enough,” Joe insisted.

Pippa’s head fell onto the shoulder of whoever held her, and she focused on not having it spin in circles, while several voices around her argued about who’d had enough to drink, and whose business that was. What do I care? None of the voices had that gravelly, sexy, yet reassuring tone that River had. Her hand moved up to touch the guy’s face. Clean shaven. Where was River’s scrubby beard, and the too long hair that gave him the appearance of a pirate?