Chapter Thirty-Five
Jenna
When all the candles are blown out and Marty has served us all up a piece of cake, he puts the knife down without slicing one for himself.
“Right, that's enough of this celebrating horseshite. I thank you all for being here with me and behaving, for the most part,” he says with individual looks at us all. “But now I want to treat myself to a little extra birthday fun.”
He stands and looks around the seating area. He catches my brother's eye, who is seating that group of twenty and looking like he's not going to make it back to the pantry in time for his next crying break.
“I'm off to go save this kitchen and fucken enjoy every second of it.” Marty stands and walks off before any of us can say anything.
Feeling both incredibly proud of him and relieved for my brother, I am also pinned to my chair in panic now that I have to eat cake and make polite conversation with his parents, alone.
Maeve is fully absorbed in her phone again so will be little help.
But after one mouthful of the cake - a decadently light and moist sponge with fresh cream and strawberry filling - I decide to persevere, knowing it will make Marty happy.
We make small talk about the cake, the resort, and how lucky we are with the warm weather, and I am relieved when Cynthia asks me more questions about my work and asks if I can recommend some books about grief and loss.
“I have tried to get Marty to read one or two, but he says he doesn’t have the attention span for them,” she says.
“It’s possible,” I say. “Grief can often manifest in periods of restlessness with an inability to focus.”
“I’m not sure that’s the grief,” James adds. “That’s just Marty. He’s not a sit down and read kind of lad. He’s like me, feels better when he’s active or busy.”
“Maybe I could suggest one or two audiobooks to him,” I say. “Maybe he could listen to them on a run or in the gym.”
“Could you?” Cynthia looks stunned. “That would be fantastic.”
“What about books on sexuality?” Maeve pipes up and the three of us turn to her. I’d assumed she was busy on her phone and not listening. She doesn’t hold any of our gazes. “For all of us, I mean. To try and support Marty better with that.”
“I can recommend some books for that too,” I say, and I make sure I have Maeve’s eye before I continue. “I know some great websites too that can help you understand different types of sexual identities.”
Maeve shrugs and looks back on her phone. “Sounds good.”
“I’d like to see them too,” says Cynthia as her eyes flit between the two of us.
“Oh, for feck’s sake, I’ll even have a look. Is metrosexual in there?” James says, and that makes me laugh while Maeve groans.
I am about to ask Maeve about her work, when I spot my brother charging for our table.
“Your boy is a chef's version of Superman,” Jake starts collecting our empty glasses.
I'm not sure if he's talking to me or Marty’s parents but still my cheeks warm.
“He's whipped the whole team into shape, he's attacking orders like a Riverdancing ninja, and I have finally got a server back. Also, did you know he likes to listen to ABBA while working?”
His parents’ laughter fills my ears.
“Oh, God, does he still do that?” James asks.
“I'm afraid that's my fault,” Cynthia says, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “I like to relive my youth when cooking. He grew up listening to far too much Seventies pop. I used to play it every evening as I made dinner.”
“No apologies necessary. He's literally saving my life tonight, so I don't care what he listens to,” my brother says then he leans towards me and whispers in my ear. “But my God, he cannot dance. I think that rhythm is his kryptonite.”
I am quick to turn my head so only he can hear. “Oh, his rhythm is just fine.”
My brother's eyes close and lips flatten as he gathers his composure, straightening up.
“Needless to say, your meal is on the house tonight,” he says to Marty's parents.
“Oh no, that's not necessary.” James now has his wife's hand in his and I find myself smiling as I watch his fingers stroke hers.
“It absolutely is,” Jake says. “Do you need anything else? Some coffee or tea? An after dinner drink?”
“Well, if you're offering, I'll take a whiskey.” James smiles. “Irish, of course.”
“And I'll have a mint tea,” Cynthia says, leaning forward. “And could I also ask you a quick question?”
“Certainly.” Jake comes to stand beside Cynthia again.
“What kind of security do you have here?”
“Oh, Jesus, Mother.” Maeve slams her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.
“Maeve, it's a valid question if there's a Greek sex pest out there wanting to find you.”
“I'm sorry?” His attention grabbed, Jake tilts his head to the side.
“Maeve is getting some unwanted attention from local men who know that she's staying here,” I try to explain as quickly as I can. “She's a social media influencer. Nearly a million followers on TikTok.”
“Yes, and I stupidly revealed my location earlier today while I did a Live on the beach,” Maeve says and it's the first time I've seen her look anything but cool and composed. Instead I see her youth and her vulnerability, and it surprises me that I want to rush over to hug her tight.
“That was you!” Jake practically shouts.
“What?” Maeve asks.
“You're the reason my ass may actually survive until October!” Jake’s delight is palpable.
“I am?”
“You’ve been sharing videos of the resort?”
“Yes, but I didn't say I was staying here. People figured it out during my Live and I was a bit slow with the damage control.” Maeve still looks frustrated.
“Oh, God, there's been no damage. At least not for me. People have been making bookings all day. The resort is practically full for the next two months. Headquarters are already talking about extending the season. You have literally turned my career around in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Well, that's great to hear.” Maeve smiles.
“So do you think you could tell your security team to be extra careful about any strange men coming onto the resort?” Cynthia interrupts.
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” my brother says, defying forces of gravity as he balances the full tray in one hand while reaching to pull his phone out of his back pocket with the other. “You're in Villa 12, right? Well, extra patrols and checks for you tonight.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Cynthia says, leaning back with a smile.
“It's totally unnecessary. I doubt they're sex pests,” Maeve says.
“It's really not a problem,” my brother says pushing buttons on his phone. “I will personally handle all the sex pests myself.”
He stops as James snickers, and I bite down a smile.
“Forget I said that,” Jake says, and he spins around and goes, keeping the tray perfectly level as he presses the phone to his ear.
“Maeve, I know you don't think anything of it, but you really have helped my brother.” I lean towards her.
“Well, it was Marty too.”
“It was?”
“Yeah, the video of him and I jumping in the pool the other day was the one that went viral and got me thousands of new followers and traction with the algorithm.”
“Oh, God, you two were cackling with laughter doing that,” James says.
“I thought there would be no more water in the pool by the time you were done,” Cynthia adds, giggling.
“He did a video with you?” I ask.
“Yeah, you want to see it?” Her eyes are sparkling again.
“Yes, please,” I say, and Maeve moves over to sit in Marty's chair.
She starts scrolling through her phone and before I know it, Cynthia and James have stood up and moved over to crouch behind us.
I catch a whiff of Cynthia's perfume - it's soft, floral, with vanilla undertones.
It's the kind of motherly smell I find instantly comforting and homely.
I wish I could remember what my mother smelt like.
We all watch the video together and it’s hilarious.
Marty and Maeve take it in turns to throw themselves in the water adopting positions that text pops up to describe.
There’s running, sitting at a desk, yoga positions, cooking - which Marty naturally excels at - and each one gets more ridiculous than the last. I glance at the side of the screen and see there are over three million views, over a million likes and nearly 10,000 comments.
My mind boggles at that many people casting their eyes on Marty.
After we watch it three times, we end up scrolling through a few more of Maeve's videos until my brother brings James and Cynthia's drinks and an update about an extra security patrol.
Marty's parents turn to thank him profusely while I talk to Maeve.
“You're very talented,” I say.
She pulls her head back to look at me. “You think?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Your videos are fun and creative. There's lots of variety, but each one lines up nicely with the others. People know they’re going to be entertained, informed or inspired by what you post. As someone who's also in the creating content game, I know this isn't easy to do.”
“Thanks, Jenna,” she says, almost shyly.
“People don't tell you that very often, do they?” I ask.
“I shouldn't need to hear it.” She shrugs, avoiding both a direct answer and my eye contact. “But doing this already doesn't feel like a 'proper' job and I do nearly all of it on my own, so I sometimes doubt myself and if I'm actually contributing anything.”
“Sounds like impostor syndrome to me,” I say and sink the last mouthful of my wine.
“Yeah, I think I get that a lot,” she says.
“A lot of talented and successful people do,” I say and when she looks up at me, she returns my smile.
“Marty's got his own hashtag now.” Maeve turns her phone's screen off. “#MaesHotOlderBrother. Please don't tell him. He'd be insufferable if he knew.”
“Oh, I won't tell him,” I say. “I don't want to have to put up with that either.”
To my surprise, Cynthia chimes in as if she'd been listening all along behind us. “That boy and his self-confidence. He always had it. Even as a kid.”