Page 77 of A Fool's Game
Things are progressing, slowly, but promisingly at my parents’ house. The steady stream of cash from my paychecks has been successful in hiring contractors and lining the right pockets. I’m starting to feel hopeful about the mess of a situation for the first time since my father took me down to the basement and showed me how bad they’d let the problem get.
And then there’s the plane I’m currently sitting on.
It’s not a private jet, something I teased Ainsley about, though god knows why. The last thing I want is to pollute the planet with more jet fuel than necessary. It is first class, though, a first for me.I’m sitting in a single seat by the window, several rows behind Ainsley and Gemma. He offered to let me sit with her, ever the gentleman, but I refused, settling into my single seat like a contented little martyr.
The two of them have gotten closer over the last few weeks, there’s no denying that. We all spend the majority of our time at Ainsley’s house now. His quiet kitchen, his comfortable living room, his showers—yes, multiple showers—that are luxurious and hot and appear in my dreams more often than I’d ever admit.
I guess we’ve all gotten closer.
Ainsley and I seem to have some kind of truce at work, where he doesn’t fuck up, and I leave him alone. But if I’m being honest, and believe me, I'm only being honest to myself, it’s more than that.He’s good at whatever job I assign him. I’ve stopped trying to find the most torturous positions I can for when he shows up to do his hours, and instead, I find myselflooking forward to when he arrives—so he can help out where it’s needed most.
He’s good with the customers. He can solve problems as well as I can. He figures out easier ways to do things and then tells everyone around him, explaining and teaching in a way that makes me narrow my eyes but keep my mouth shut.
I still don’t leave him alone to season anything, or make decisions about recipes or menu pairings, but as far as I can tell, the guy could be running the front of the house. And HR.
He’s still got almost a month’s worth of hours left, and already a few of the cooks have approached me about his going away party, like he’s a long-time team member, off to greener pastures, instead of a delinquent student volunteer.
I get it. He’s personable. Far more so than me.
As for our bedroom truce, it’s holding steady. No sword play, but plenty of sharing. Gem’s in hog fucking heaven with the two of us finally communicating in bed, coming up with more and more creative ways to tag team her willing body.
The overhead speaker informs me that it’s time to buckle up and prepare for landing. I slug back the rest of my whiskey, and hand the glass to the flight attendant. It’s the fourth one they’ve served me on this five-hour flight. I guess in first class there are fewer rules, because I sure as shit don’t think I’ve ever gotten more than one mini bottle of the cheap stuff in coach.
We’re about to land in paradise, and I don’t think I’m ready.
The two of them badgered me into taking this trip for the long President’s Day weekend. Gem insisted that I have enough vacation stored up for a year off, and Ainsley assured me that everything would be taken care of because his dad owns the resort.
So, here I am. Slightly buzzed, in brand new flip flops, and landing for my first vacation in…well, ever.
Ainsley may have lowered himself to flying commercial, but he still gets the rockstar treatment on the other side. We’re met by an eager man from the resort, who has a van waiting to take us to the water taxi. Two other resort workers collect our luggage and transport it to the boat for us.The water taxi is just a ferry, but with no cars, and far more people than seems safe crowded on board.Gem squeals when she sees dolphins jumping alongside the boat, dragging my attention away from counting the overhead life jackets just long enough to pull her closer to my side.
We’re delivered to the resort just after 4:30 in the afternoon. I’m exhausted from traveling and my waning buzz. All I want is to find our room and start my first of many naps, but we’re met in the lobby by a taller, darker, older version of Ainsley.
“Taylor?” Ainsley’s dad, Ben, asks when we’re introduced, taking my hand in a firm handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Ben’s fiancé, Victoria, who can’t be a day older than Ainsley, greets him far more familiarly than I expect. A big hug held a moment too long. A conspiratorial grin.
She’s gorgeous, obviously, fit like a yoga teacher, and dressed in what looks like designer clothes.Girl caught herself a damn prize, I think ungenerously to myself, wondering why she hasn’t dragged him down the aisle yet.I can’t take my eyes off her, and I know it’s partially because she hasn’t taken her hands off Ainsley. She holds him at arm's length after they hug. She grasps his upper arm as he introduces Gem and me.
“This is your girlfriend, huh?” she asks, smile turning sly.
Ainsley looks to Gem and then to me, taking a step back from Victoria and taking Gem’s arm, shifting closer to where I stand on his other side.
Victoria and Ben watch the whole thing with hawk eyes.
“Yeah,” Ainsley says finally, his answer only drawing more questioning looks from the concerned parental folks.
We should’ve gone over what we were going to say long before we arrived at this moment, but here we are.
“I’d wrestle a dolphin for a nap right now.” The words fly out of my mouth without me considering beforehand how ridiculous they’re going to make me look.
I don’t care, though. They do their job.
Ben and Ainsley, host and host Jr, jump as if given mild electric shocks, looking around for the bellboy and our rolling rack of luggage.
“Sir,” a uniformed attendant speaks up from behind Ben, “all of your guests' things have been taken to the west penthouse suite.”
Ben nods to the man and turns back to us, speaking directly to me. “We’ll take you guys up there.” He slips his arm through Victoria’s, and his meaning is suddenly clear.
