Chapter Three
Chapter Three
It’s my own fault
, he thought as he turned on his stool back to face the pool. The stunning woman who had served had moved on to another customer, giving them the same smile, the same playful attitude.
He wasn’t mad, how could he be? It was literally her job to be polite to the customers and make sure they were having a good time. And yet, for a moment, he felt
it.
As he watched the hordes of college students lounging in the sun, splashing in the pool, and generally having a great time, he tried to put it out of his mind. He tried not to think about her smile and warmth, about her attention entirely focused on him, if even for a few moments, about the feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one he had forgotten even existed.
But as he sat there now, his insides churning with excitement and anticipation, he realised how lonely he had become, how much he missed connecting with other people, connecting with not just women, but
women who were genuinely interested in him.
And for a brief moment, he thought she
was
genuinely interested in him.
He let out a soft laugh at his own incredulity. She was half his age! Why would she
possibly
be interested in him? Sure, there were women who liked an older man, especially one who was mature and financially secure and looked after himself physically, but those kinds of guys didn’t hang out at Spring Break, did they?
And yet here he was.
I should have booked my own holiday
, he thought, sipping his virgin Sex on The Beach.
Instead, he had left it to his Stepphy. Sure, she was smart and sassy and stunning, her mere presence turning all his visitors to mush (very handy when negotiating a deal or buttering up potential clients), but despite it all, she was not the most organised individual.
This he’d put down not to a lack of ability, but the fact that she didn’t really care about the job. But then again, who could blame her? Being his assistant was not particularly rewarding or glamorous, even when he wasn’t squatting in his office!
“Are you sure?” she’d asked when he told her to book him a flight and hotel to Cannes. He had always wanted to travel to France, but there had always been something getting in the way. When he had the time, he didn’t have the money, and when he had the money, he didn’t have the time. Now, finally, he had both.
“Positive,” he’d said.
“Do you want to stay any place in particular?” she had asked as she stepped to the side as he walked out of his office, intent on going home and freshening up.
“Surprise me,” he’d shouted back, “I want somewhere where you can feel the culture in the air.”
And that was his first mistake.
His second mistake was much more egregious: he hadn’t double-checked that she had booked the right place.
In fact, he hadn’t checked anything at all. Instead, he had returned to the office and all but barricaded himself inside, working day and night to finalise the biggest deal of his life before heading off on his much-needed break.
He’d subsisted on little more than takeaways but had eaten so little of that, that he had actually lost that last stubborn weight he had been trying to shift for months. He was sure he’d lost some muscle mass, but knew he could gain that back quite quickly when he returned to the gym. But abs were made in the kitchen and given his rapid weight loss, he was cooking.
So, completely focused on the main project, he had left everything to Stepphy. Sure, it wasn’t
technically
work-related business, but she was there to assist him and this is what he needed assistance with. Besides, he told himself, by leaving all of that to her, he actually did have more time to focus on work, so it kind of evened out.
Stepphy booked the flights and hotels and the taxi to the airport for him, as he remained locked away.
“Taxi leaves in five minutes!” she had shouted through the door, waking Josh from his slumber. He had passed out in his chair, the project finally finished and sent out, the wave of relief washing through him quickly turning to exhaustion, leading him to fall into a deep sleep.
He’d stirred, then shot up, suddenly awake, with no idea where he was.
“Oh my god,” she’d cried as she’d looked in at him, “where are your bags?”
“My bags?” he’d said, her tone completely disorientating him.
“
For the trip!
” she’d exclaimed.
Josh had bolted upright.
“That’s not until…”
“Until now,” she’d said, cutting him off. “Don’t tell me you left them at home?”
“I…” he’d began, the words drifting off. Truthfully, he hadn’t packed anything, hadn’t even given it so much as a thought. Not that he had much to pack anyway, having completely ignored Stepphy’s suggestion (or rather, her
demand
) that he buy some new clothes for the trip.
“It doesn’t matter,” she’d said, exasperated, “just tidy yourself up and you can get some stuff once you’re there. Charge it to the company as a business expense or something.”
“That’s not really how that works.”
“Yeah,” she’d said, “I don’t really care. Four minutes.”
She’d closed the door and he stood up, uneasily. He’d stretched and stripped off, throwing his well-worn clothes in a pile in the corner, figuring he’d sort them out when he got back, cleaned himself up the best he could and threw on some new clothes.
“Two minutes,” she’d said as he rushed to the washrooms.
“One minute,” she’d said, as he’d splashed water on his face as he gargled mouthwash, terrified he’d get the bright purple substance on his clean, white shirt.
“Taxi’s here,” she’d shouted as he spat it carefully into the sink.
“Let me know if there are any problems,” he’d said, rushing from the washrooms to his office, packing his laptop into its bag and grabbing his coat.
“I won’t,” she’d said, “just go enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll try my best,” he’d said, “and thank you.”
“No problem,” she’d said as he’d rushed for the door. “Wait, wait, wait.”
He’d stopped and turned to see her holding an envelope with a plane ticket and passport sticking out of it.
“Thanks,” he’d said, taking the envelope.
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” she’d said, “well, the
bucks
.”
“Maybe we can talk about that when I get back,” he’d said, “the new project…”
“Go before you miss your flight,” she’d said, “you can think how to thank me later.”
With that, he’d rushed out the door, into the waiting taxi, and went on to the airport.