It was another day. Another awkward day in paradise where I had to dig myself out of the pile of shit I had gotten myself into. There was no way I could return the money I had lost, not unless I could win it back.

Last night in the club, Brooke had taken my breath away, again. From the very first time I saw her by the pool, she was leagues above any other girl or woman that was in the hotel. She knew it, and she knew that I knew it.

We had chatted for a while in the club, and I could see she was trying every little trick she knew to stave off my charms, this just made me crazier for her, and I think this was why my card games were off. They were really fucking off. I had worked in Vegas, and I could play poker with the best of them. Here on the island, it should be easy pickings, but there was something I just couldn’t work out.

I don’t think Brooke brought me bad luck, I just think the thoughts of her stopped me looking at what I should be looking at. I wonder if she came with me… I might have better luck.

It was worth the gamble, just another five-grand from the construction budget, if I was lucky. I could replace the cash I had already lost. I knew that Beau and Shona would intervene soon, but if I could get some back, I could stash it in my room and just explain my way out of it.

I walk from my room into the warm morning sun. My shades are pulled firmly over my eyes. My shirt is open and blows in the mild breeze that is blowing over the coolness of the pool.

I stand by the restaurant door sipping on a cup of steaming hot coffee. A little caffeine kick before a game always gets me into the zone. I cast my eyes on the early morning sunbathers looking for Brooke. I finally see her over in the pool. I walk closer and see she is floating on a rubber ring, her arms floating at the side of her as her head tilts back, and her long, dark hair falling into the water.

She faces up to the sun, and I wonder if her blue eyes are closed or if she is watching me through her shades. The ring slowly drifts toward the side of the pool. I crouch with my coffee. My eyes look at her full lips and the curves of her ample breasts; water glistens in her cleavage. I lick my lips as I look down to the junction of her thighs. Her bikini bottom is damp and hugs her pussy tight. I see the shape of her lips underneath as the sunlight casts its perfect glow over her body.

Water splashes over my face. I look down at Brooke’s face. “I am here if you want to speak to me, not down there,” she says, laughing loudly.

“Sorry, I thought you were sleeping,” I reply. I love my sarcasm.

I pull off my shades, and wipe the water drops from the glass on my shirt. I slip them back over my eyes and pick up my cup.

“What are you doing this morning?” I ask.

“Not much, I was just going to work on my tan,” Brooke replies. “Why you asking?”

“I have been invited to play in a poker game, and I was wondering if you would like to join me?” Her eyes are perfect in the sunshine.

Just don’t give the game away that you’re trying to claw back your losses.

“What time are you supposed to be playing?” Brooke asks, as she paddles the ring away from the side of the pool.

“Eleven,” I say loudly.

“What time is it now?” I see her head tilting her head back over the rubber ring.

I look at my water-splashed watch. I wipe it on my pants. “Nearly ten,” I reply.

“How long will it take us to get there?”

“About ten or fifteen minutes, it’s not that far away,” I explain.

“Sure, I will meet you at reception at ten thirty.” Brooke slips her slender body from the rubber ring.

She swims to the side of the pool. I offer my hand to lift her out. Brooke huffs and puts both of her hands on the edge of the pool. She lifts her body and stands at the side, her wet body shining from the sun.

I watch as water runs down her body and drips from the bottom of her bikini. Brooke grabs her towel and wraps it around herself.

She walks toward the rooms and shouts over her shoulder. “Ten thirty.”

I walk back toward my room. Conor is walking down the hallway toward the main reception. “Hey, Conor. I have to go out for a couple of hours,” I say.

“Okay, I have some stuff to do here, I have to run through bar stocks and see what the most popular drinks are,” Conor replies.

“Speak to Akoni, he is the main bartender here, if he doesn’t know it, no one will,” I say, truthfully.

“Right you are, Akoni,” Conor mutters as he walks away.

I get to the room and look left and right before I enter. The last thing I want is for either of the guys to see how little money is left. I enter the room and lock the door behind me. I turn on the light and close the curtains. I pull the drawers from the side of the bed and remove the plastic wallet that I have wedged against the wood.

I pour the cash on the bed and count it out. Five-grand stacks, and I have eight laying on the bed. Only forty-grand is left. I really have to do something, or I am in deep shit. Just one last shot and then I will confess to Shona.

I leave two stacks on the bed and shove the final thirty grand back into the wallet. I shove it back against the wood of the drawers and push them back against the wall. I have to get back into the zone. I have been there before. That Las Vegas zone. You have to bet big to win big.

I step into the shower. The water cascades over my body, and I think of Brooke floating in the pool. I would love to let my imagination run wild, but I have to focus on the game. This is no laughing matter now, and the last thing I want to tell Shona is the mess I am in. With her money… Beau’s money. Fuck.

I rest my hands on the glass of the shower. I bow my head and watch the water as it drips from the ends of my dark hair. I feel the water pounding against the bunched muscles of my shoulders. Streams form and run down the skin of my body. I see my body; the water runs as if it’s acting like the rapids of a river.

No matter how cool the water is, or how much flows over my body, it’s not enough to wash away the mess I am in. Not just here with Shona. Vegas, fuck, the guys in Vegas. There is no way they are not looking for me. I owe them too much.

It will take more than a lucky streak to pay them back, it will take a miracle. I would have to get at least halfway through the world series of poker to pay them back. Two hundred and seventy-five grand and that’s not including the interest they would be piling on the top.

“How the fuck can I fix that?”

Maybe… if I can fix this mess with Shona, perhaps she can help. I hate to beg, but this time I need help. I need real help. Christ, I need rehab that is what I need.

I think I was kidding myself; running away to Jamaica was not going to solve all my problems. It won’t, they will come back and bite me in the ass. If I don’t do something drastic soon, it will be more than just a bit of interest slapped on top of the debt. It will be a couple of broken bones or more, just there as a reminder that the guys have not forgotten about me.

I really have to get my act together. How stupid am I going to look to Brooke if I turn up with broken ribs, or worse?

I fasten my watch around my wrist and look at the time. Ten fifteen. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on my shoes. I stand and fold the ten-grand, separating it into two, and then I put five-grand into separate pockets. I leave the room and double check it’s locked. That would be the last thing I needed, to find out I had been robbed. That would be the final nail in my proverbial coffin.

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. You lose one, you lose them all.”