Chapter Seven
Christian
With so much travel in my life over the past ten years, I had my system down pat at this point. I could sleep through nearly everything on the flight, but I somehow always managed to wake up just before the wheels touched down.
I filed through the airport with everyone else and stepped out into shockingly warm weather. When I'd left New York, it had been 43˚F. Here, it was a balmy 72˚F, if the pilot was to be believed. There were palm trees swaying in a warm breeze, and everywhere I looked, there were beautiful, tanned women walking around in shorts and crop tops.
I had to wonder why I'd never come to Hawaii before. The ski vacations had been fun, but there was a big difference between picking up a woman wearing a chunky sweater and picking up a woman wearing a sundress: with the latter, you knew exactly what you were getting.
I threw my duffel bag into the back of a cab. I'd packed light, figuring I could always pick up whatever I needed once I arrived. I didn't own that many summery clothes anyway. Sure, I had some shorts, but most of them were formal that I could wear to work. Nothing that you'd wear to a beach.
I slipped into the cab, barely refraining from rolling my eyes at the way the cabbie was staring at me. “You're Christian Wall!” he said.
Spotted already.
“That's right,” I said. “I need to get to the Golden Palm Resort. Can you take me there?”
“Sure thing,” he said, flicking on the meter. As we started driving, he kept glancing over at me. “I just can't believe that you're here!” he said. “My friends are never going to believe that I drove Christian Wall from the airport.”
I sighed. “Please don't tell anyone,” I asked. God, I should have made the kid sign an NDA before I got in the car or something. Not that I ever minded the attention, but I was trying to be low-key here. I'd picked a quiet little resort for a reason. If I'd wanted my name splashed all over the news, I would have run off to Europe to booze my way through the best clubs in the world.
I didn't know why I hadn't. I just wanted the trip to be something different.
“Oh, you're trying to keep things hush-hush, hmm?” the kid—Mark, his nametag said—asked. “That makes sense. Man, you were all over the news last week.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Usually it's just girls who know my reputation,” I told him.
“Oh no,” Mark said, shaking his head as he changed lanes. “A lot of my friends all follow what you're up to. We only wish we could be you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, laughing a little. “You wish you could be a whole company's...” I grimaced, not even sure what word I wanted. I still maintained that I hadn't fucked anything up, but all the same…
“Nah, man, with the chicks and the money and all of that,” Mark said. “You could quit your job, buy a house on the beach, and just surf every day. All day, every day.”
I snorted. “I mean, I could, I guess,” I said. “I'd probably get sick of surfing after a while, though.”
“You could never get sick of surfing,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Every new wave that you catch is a different wave. It's just like fucking, man. Every girl is different. And even if you have sex with the same girl twice, well…”
“I try my best to never have sex with the same girl twice.”
Mark laughed. “See, man, that's why we love you. You've pretty much got cult status at this point.”
I couldn't help grinning a little. “I guess it is a pretty good life,” I agreed, even though I was starting to wonder whether that was true. Call me stupid, but I'd started to feel a bit lonely lately. It made sense. Besides Paul, I didn't have that many friends. Definitely no one who I could turn to and just know that they'd be there for me, on my side, no matter what. And it was always the same thing, repeatedly. Sure, I liked what I was doing, but, there had to be something more to life.
“It's a great life,” Mark said enthusiastically. “There's this girl here on the island who is smoking hot, but she's way out of my league. What I wouldn't give to be like you. Even if I had one or the other, looks or money, I could get her to sleep with me. You have it all. Anything that you want in the world, you can get it.”
“Maybe not anything,” I said, thinking darkly about George and my job and the fact that I had been exiled from the office for the foreseeable future.
“Okay, but most things,” Mark persisted. “You're going to have a fucking blast here in Hawaii, let me tell you. There's so many great places. You're going to want to get away from the touristy stuff for a bit too. Luaus are fun and all, but that's not all the locals do for nightlife. And there's some great Hawaiian wines and beers that you'll want to check out while you're here. I'm biased because I grew up here, and let's face it, I've never tasted a really good Italian wine or anything like that, but they're pretty great.”
I smiled over at him. “I'll have to get some recommendations for places,” I told him, although I was just planning on hanging around the resort until I got sick of it. Then maybe I'd jet off to the next place.
“Yeah, no, I can give you recommendations,” Mark said. “Better yet, if you need a driver while you're here, I can give you my number, and you can call me up anytime. Even if you're stumbling back drunk from the clubs or something like that. Or if you want to take a personal tour of the island.”
“You got a sister?” I asked, grinning over at him.
Mark laughed. “Man, that's not even cool!” he said. “But no, I don't have a sister. Thank god, or else I'd have to be worrying about her now that you're here on the island. I've just got a couple of younger brothers, though, and I guess you wouldn't be too interested in them. But I know a lot of the girls on the island. Like I said, I've grown up here. We had this big locals’ luau the other night, and it was surprising how many of us showed up. Kind of like a big reunion. It was neat.”
“Sounds nice,” I said, already beginning to feel a bit bored.
“Do you surf, man?” Mark asked. “Because that's another thing I could recommend, all the best surf spots on the island. The waves this time of year, man. They're the best.”
“There's not much surfing around New York City,” I told him.
“Well, no shit, I imagine the water's fucking cold,” Mark said. “But how much of the year do you even spend in New York? It seems like you're always off doing this or that.”
I laughed. “Unfortunately, I'm usually traveling on business, so my days are pretty busy. I get my evenings free, but that's about it.”
“But you snowboard, right? There were all those stories about you and Jamie Michaels and that trip to the Alps.”
“I ski.”
Mark gave me an astonished look. “Man, what are you doing with your life?” he asked me. “My dad skis, and he's practically ancient. Even when he was younger, he didn't go out partying like you do.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I just like it. I've tried snowboarding a few times, but it never really stuck.”
“You should try surfing while you're here,” Mark said. “It's the best.”
I shook my head, still grinning. “Yeah, maybe I will,” I told him. We pulled up in front of my resort. “Hey, here's my card,” Mark said, grabbing one out of the center of the dashboard. “Seriously, man, if you need recommendations or a ride or whatever else, you just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the card into my wallet. It was a strange thing to have in there amongst the real estate cards and other miscellaneous things that I was starting to associate with my quote-unquote old life. Paul said that they would take me back, but I could already feel myself beginning to cut ties with that. I didn't think George would take me back. This leave might not be permanent, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't stretch on for as long as he chose.
I grabbed my duffel bag and walked up to the resort. It was a nice place, just as pretty as advertised. When I walked into the vast, tiled lobby, two Hawaiian women in hula skirts swayed over to me and deposited leis around my neck. I laughed. “What do you know, I got laid within an hour of reaching Hawaii!” I said.
They must have heard it before, but both of them still giggled, and I felt my spirits rise a little. Maybe Hawaii would be everything that I needed. Maybe I'd be able to get both of them in bed with me, together, even, by the end of my stay there. We'd see.
I made my way over to the desk and picked up my room key. The suite was spacious, and the décor matched the idea of tropical paradise. Gauzy white curtains waved lazily beside open French doors on the far side of the living room, and I made my way over. The view was impressive, a long stretch of sandy beach with only a few umbrellas dotted along it, and leafy palm trees leaning toward the water. The waves were crashing against the shore, but it looked like the perfect place to swim. The weather was perfect for it that day, too.
I smiled a little to myself. Maybe this whole “taking time off work” thing wasn't so bad after all. I turned toward the mini-bar and inspected its contents. There was an ice tray in the freezer; thoughtful of them. I poured myself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and turned back toward the view. Yes, this would do quite nicely.