Chapter Twenty-One
Marty
It quickly becomes clear that unlike me, my father didn't come three times last night.
After our fifteen-kilometre or so warm-up getting to the foot of the small Kalathenes mountain range, Dad races off up our first serious incline without a glance back at me, until he's confident the gap between us is sufficient.
Then he looks sideways for the briefest moment, just so I can see his shit-eating grin.
Well, fine. I know I'd much rather be trailing a sixty-one-year-old man after incredible sex than have legs full of beans for a dawn mountain climb.
Besides, I want to save my energy for the day ahead, my day with Jenna.
I’m not sure why, but she took some persuading to come out with me.
In the end, we agreed if I could make her come again then she would go on our date, and while I had been ready for the challenge - the competitive streak in me always hard and eager - even I was pleasantly surprised when it had taken mere minutes once I'd settled between her legs.
But then I'd become impossibly hard and she told me there was no way she wanted me wasting my erection.
She promptly flipped over onto her hands and knees and I got to see exactly how fantastic her arse is in that position, and we rocked, thrust, slammed into each other until we came, at almost exactly the same time.
She was just as astonished as me about that and I think her words were “a happy fluke”.
I wasn't sure it was a fluke, but I wasn't going to tell her that when she is the one who knows more about these things than I do. She has words for all this sex stuff, I just have a new fascination at how it’s so good with her.
That was what I had been thinking about as I cuddled her to sleep - which took no time at all - then I wrote my phone number, a time and location on a piece of paper by her bed, kissed her head once – maybe twice - and left.
And now I'm getting my arse kicked by my father who is taking great pleasure in gaining the lead on me.
But my competitive edge - and legs and cock - are still recovering from last night, so I'm going to let him go ahead, and leave him thinking I'm busting my balls to keep up with him by closing his lead here and there.
That works for the whole of our sixty-kilometre ride, during which we watch the sun climb high above the horizon.
I think briefly about some of the sunrises Arnie and I watched together, and I smile.
I smile and that's it. Now that feels like a very happy fluke.
Back in our villa, Dad goes straight to the fridge for a beer. Mum and Maeve are at a yoga class, so I know he's going to sneak one in before Mum gets home, probably while he dips his feet in the pool, which she'll also kill him for if he's not yet showered.
“Hitting the shower, Da,” I call out.
“Son,” he says. I stop and turn because my father so rarely seeks out my company without a sporting activity or game we can play together.
“Yeah,” I say but don’t walk back into the room.
“Thanks for doing that with me. I dare say you may have had a better offer last night and maybe this morning too, but I appreciate you coming back and riding with me.” He gives me three winks during that little speech and each one makes me feel a little queasy.
“Sure, Da.”
“Your mum appreciates it too,” he says. “I'm working on her, you know.
I know it's not been easy, but she's... honestly, she was a fecking mess when you were gone and we didn't know where you were for a while. And then when we got the call about your accident, we really thought the worst. It was like... Well, you can imagine. When Colm and Sheila lost Arnie, we couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if we lost one of you.
Your mother holds on to those kinds of feelings a lot tighter than I do.
We all know what she's like when she gets her claws into something.”
“I get it, Dad,” I say, and I do. I have thought about this a lot over the last year or so.
They loved Arnie too, and they are close to his parents.
I know it's been hard for them, Mum especially, but it's harder for me to admit that sometimes my own pain and loss made anyone else's feel like a mere graze in comparison.
Mine was an open stab wound, bleeding profusely.
And I didn't have any capacity to stem the flow of my own blood loss let alone find plasters or bandages for theirs.
“Just go easy with her,” he says. I pull the inside of my cheek between my teeth, then turn and walk away because I'm done with this conversation now.
Twenty-five minutes later I return – showered and dressed - and Mum and Maeve are there in their yoga gear.
“Aiden!” Mum calls out. “You want a coffee? Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes.”
I walk to the door and slide my Birkenstocks on. “Nah, Ma, I'm heading to the breakfast buffet, and then I'm going to be out most of the day.”
“What?” I see her head pop out from the side of the open fridge door. “Where are you going?”
I take a deep breath. In between reliving some of my favourite views of Jenna, I went to sleep last night thinking about how this conversation would go, so it's time to find out which of my many hypotheses is correct.
“So, here's the thing... I have a date,” I say.
“Such a dirtbird,” Maeve mutters without looking up from her phone.
“A date, Maevey, not an orgy,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Wouldn't put it past you.”
“Is that who you were with last night?” Mum closes the fridge and walks towards me. “Wasn't that a date of sorts? Or is today with someone else? Surely not!”
“Yeah. Kinda. And no. Not someone else. It's the same person. But last night wasn't a date, so...”
My father coughs and I want to throttle him. I haven't asked him if he told Mum about bumping into Jenna, but something tells me now, if he has, he has withheld some information. Well, I can do that too.
“We had non-alcoholic drinks together last night,” I say with emphasis. “But today we're going on a proper date.”
“Aiden, we’ve only been here two days. How have you possibly met someone who you want to date?” my mum asks with the deepest frown she allows herself.
“She's very pretty,” Maeve says, stressing the pronoun.
“I'll agree with that,” my father mumbles, confirming that he did indeed tell Mum about Jenna.
“Will I get to meet her? Seeing as everyone else in the family already has.” Mum holds her hands up in a very dramatic move that makes the rest of us look anywhere but at her.
I see an easy way out of here and I take it, shifting into first gear eagerly.
“Sure, Ma. You can meet her. But not today, okay? Let me have today with her, then I’ll introduce her.
” I step over to my mother who has her hands on her hips.
I give her a kiss on the cheek, then turn and rush out of the door as quickly as I can because I'm not sure I sounded anywhere near convincing enough.
Introduce Jenna to my mother? Not in a million years!
Ten minutes later, I'm in the resort’s lobby armed with the banana and croissant I grabbed from the breakfast bar. My other hand is knocking on the door that has a sign that says, “Resort Manager”.
“Come in!” a voice calls and I do so while plastering a big grin on my face.
“Good morning, Resort Manager!” I say to Jake, who is sitting behind his desk, his eyes narrowing with suspicion when they see me.
“Hello, Irishman who snuck out of my sister's villa in the middle of the night!” He leans back in his chair as he signals for me to sit down opposite him.
“Wow, you're one of those managers. Eyes and ears everywhere?”
“Nah, she texted me this morning with all the juicy details,” he says. “Bravo, Marty O’Martin, bravo.”
“Bravo? Juicy?” I arch an eyebrow. “Tell me more about this text message.”
He crosses his legs and wags a finger at me. “Never. Besides, I’m more curious why you're here?”
“I need your help,” I say.
He groans. “If it's about the smell coming out of the drains in the beach toilets, or the wasps’ nest in the herb garden, I am aware of these issues and could really do without a reminder.”
“No, it's more about taking your sister out on a phenomenal date.”
He looks only momentarily impressed.
“Considering her ex-husband once took her to Paris just for macaroons, the bar has been set very high.” Jake gives me a pointed look. “But he was also an emotionally unavailable workaholic who made her miserable towards the end, so I’d say there's some wriggle room.”
I store all of this away for another time and press ahead with explaining what I have in mind. He listens and nods and, when I've finished, he claps his hands together.
“Easy,” he says. “And a very lovely idea, Marty O’Martin. All very simple, but very effective. Jenna will love it. Let's make it happen.” He’s about to reach for his phone but stops. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” I say, curious.
“Will you write the resort a review when you get home? Or better than that, before you leave. Long story but I’ve got to try and encourage some more word of mouth reviews and fast.”
“I can do that. Will get my sister and parents to do the same.” I nod and it pleases me to see Jake smiling as he picks up his phone and starts making some calls.
I eat my croissant while he talks. When he's done, I thank him at least five times and then stand to leave.
“Hold up a minute, Sonny Jim,” Jake says, also standing.
I have more than a couple of centimetres on him, but he holds himself well and he has the kind of personality that leaks through his pores and fills any space he's in.
It's the same charismatic quality Jenna has - quick-witted, sparkly eyes, an upbeat but realistic view of life - but unlike Jake, hers doesn't leak out of her, it's more something that is drip-fed to you the more time you spend together, something I fear I could become addicted to.
“I'm not sure what Jenna's said about our parents, and of course, at our age it’s sort of irrelevant, but as her nearest and dearest I feel something of a duty to ask you to be gentle with her,” he says and then he winces.
“Not in the bedroom, I mean. You can be as rough with her there as she wants you to be, but rather, with all these activities you have planned today...”
“Our date?” I add for him. What’s with these thirty-something-year-olds and their shying away from that word? I thought we were the ones who were supposed to be immature.
“Yes, that.” he nods. “Jenna didn’t exactly have her heartbroken by her ex, it wasn’t like that at all, but she is quite.
.. bruised. A lot more bruised than you may think.
I know that this is just an insanely fortuitous holiday fling for the pair of you, and all power to you both, but please, just go easy on her. .”
“Thanks for the pointers.” I start to peel my banana. “I’m kind of into her.”
“I can tell. And I think that’s exactly why I’m asking you to be gentle with her.” His quick pout and the way his eyes assess me from head to toe are just as cryptic as his words.
“Message received,” I lie, because I really have no clue what he’s warning me to do or not do, but I already know I have no intention of hurting Jenna. “And thanks a million for your help.”
“My pleasure.” His expression has softened and I see his eyes look tired, his skin a little flushed and peaky.
It’s my turn to squint at him. “How was champagne with Lionel?” I ask.
His eyes widen briefly. “None of your business,” he says with a pout.
“That good, huh?”
His eyelashes flutter. “Should I call Yiannis back and cancel that booking?”
“No thanks,” I say quickly and bite into my banana again. “I’ll put my spoon away and stop stirring now.”
“Appreciated. As is your... err, discretion,” Jake adds glancing at the door again to check it’s closed.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m easy like Sunday morning,” I sing but when I see his face turn to thunder, I hold my hands up and back away.
“Oh, shit. One more thing,” I say, after opening the door.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow and I promised my parents I would ask you about a cake.
Are you able to possibly organise something?
I could make it myself if you let me have an hour in one of your kitchens.
I don’t want to cause any bother, but I thought it best I ask rather than my mother, who will almost certainly give you a migraine in the process. ”
Jake smiles. “Birthday cakes are easy, and your mother is welcome to come and talk to me about it. I have a lot of experience with migraine-inducing guests,” he says.
“I don’t doubt it, but you haven’t met my mother. I really wasn’t joking about the headache. My father, sister and I sometimes take co-codamol with breakfast just as a precaution.” I take a final bite of banana.
“I bloody hope not if you’re planning on taking my sister around the island in a car! But for the cake, just let me know where you’ll all be dining and I’ll have something arranged,” he says.
I nod and give him my broadest smile. “Thanks, Jake. And thanks again for your help for today.”
“Not at all,” he says and then he waves me off like I’m bothering him.
“Be gone. Go and whisk my sister off her feet, but like I said, put her down safely afterwards.” He pauses, his eyes looking up at the corner of the room.
“Or not. Throw her on a bed, tie her wrists together and rip her clothes off, for all I care.”
I blink and swallow slowly. “Wow. You and your sister share a lot of things I don’t share with my sister.”
“Oh, we don’t share stuff like that at all. That’s just what I wish a tall, dark and handsome stranger would do to me.” Jake smacks his lips as if to punctuate the end of that line of discussion. “Have a great day, Marty O’Martin.”
And before I can stop myself, I say, “You too, Sweet Cheeks.” And walk away humming All Night Long by Lionel Richie a little louder than is necessary.