Chapter 31 #2
We arrive at Joji’s suite. ‘Yes, you’ve seen the décor.
The whole resort was the same colour scheme and falling apart around our ears.
Xavier wasn’t here and Mrs Bastille was more lax with the running of the resort.
She’s the heart-on-sleeve type, you know?
’ Mariola knocks at Joji’s door. ‘The place, while full of rustic charm, wasn’t quite as appealing for guests, who want their escape to be five-star luxury.
The Last Chance Resort didn’t so much as move with the times as it got rooted firmly in 1979.
When you think of other resorts, like The White Lotus for example, that’s what we’re competing against.’
I hide a smile.
‘Not only by how visually appealing the resort is, but with the addition of all of the fun guest activities included in the price. When he took over, Xavier got us all together to dream up various ways we envisioned we could make guests’ holidays a truly unforgettable experience and then he offered us all a chance to try them. ’
Damn it, when she paints his side like that, it’s hard not to like the guy. He really doesn’t seem to be the ogre some staff and expats make him out to be. Possibly the opposite, as he’s tried his best to save a sinking ship, while facing pushback from most camps.
‘Before the renovations, there was only beach volleyball or the occasional game of cricket under the palm trees. Now guests have a full schedule of events they can take part in, catering to those who want to cram in fun experiences into every day, or alternatively opt for peace and tranquillity and relax with a massage or with treatments in the day spa. I was all for it, having worked here for ten years and seen the decline firsthand, but I understand why they want to preserve the Last Chance Resort, and keep things the way they were.’
I feel a pang of sadness that they can’t have it both ways, a mix of the old and the new.
‘By the sounds of it, these changes have to take place and like any big change, it takes time. I’m sure once the promenade and Cabana Bar are overhauled, the expats will get used to it and guests from all over the world will visit and fall in love with this place.
It really is a tropical paradise,’ I say.
It truly is the kind you see in postcards with palm tree trunks that grow sideways on the beach, water so blue it looks fake, bright white sand just beckoning you to leave your footprints behind.
‘The expats won’t get used to it, you know,’ Joji says as he opens the door wearing a gotcha look and a pair of low-slung jeans. ‘He should just leave them to have their one little bar area, but he won’t because of its prime position.’
‘The walls have ears,’ Mariola reminds me, her mouth tightening.
Joji is not the type you want to overhear your private conversations.
I’ve found out the hard way already that he’ll use any whisperings as leverage if it helps extricate himself from a spot of bother – which, when you’re Joji, is every other day.
‘Welcome, welcome.’ Joji waves us in as if he hasn’t just been eavesdropping. ‘Let’s rank guests one to ten hot or not and go from there? Have you seen that new arrival, Tommy from Manchester? Hot. Solid 7.5. His girlfriend, though, 9.5. Thoughts?’
Joji loves people indiscriminately and this sort of talk is exactly what gets him in trouble.
I’m sure he only does it to wind up Mariola, who already has a finger raised in the air, her mouth sucking in the amount of oxygen required to give him a stern talking-to.
He promptly grabs her hand and pats it, cheeky smile at the ready.
‘Joji, you cannot rate guests hot or not. We’ve had this talk a number of times. And whatever you do, do not proposition them. Don’t suggest a ménage à—’
‘Boo! You’re no fun!’
Mariola sends him a glare so fiery even I shrink back. ‘I’m still dealing with the fallout from that other situation you got yourself embroiled in. Remember?’
‘Ooh.’ This pricks up my ears. ‘What situation?’
‘Joji had a one-night stand with a bride-to-be on the eve of her wedding. A wedding that was to be held at the resort. Until it wasn’t.
It got called off and it was quite the scandal.
Keeping Joji’s name out of it took a lot of finessing and really, I shouldn’t have bothered because he didn’t learn from it.
The groom-to-be then had a raucous party, which Joji proudly gate-crashed, even though it’s against resort policy. ’
‘You gate-crashed his pity party, after you slept with his fiancée?’
Joji doesn’t miss a beat. ‘What is conveniently left out of that story every time is the fact her fiancé slept with another guest first… and so I had no choice but to enlighten the poor woman, who then looked to me to comfort her. Really, I did her a favour. Back to our couple from Manchester. Hot? Or not? We’re not with guests right this moment and no one can hear us; surely we’re allowed to use free speech in our own suites? ’
‘Fine,’ Mariola says. ‘But hot or not is so juvenile.’
This wacky conversation reminds me of the insane beauty of the men on Love God Island.
I get to musing about it and dreamily say, ‘For me, it’s the Seychellois men, like Xavier, with their perfectly sculpted bodies and marriage-material shoulders, that grab my attention.
’ As soon as the words slip out, I want to slap myself.
Why did I mention Xavier to Joji of all people!
I scramble to think of a fix. ‘Well, not Xavier. Just all the other local men. But not him. Never him. Actually I make a point of not objectifying people so scrap that. I like the men I’ve met because of their sunny personalities and warm smiles. ’
Mariola frowns. ‘What are marriage-material shoulders?’
‘Oh… it’s, ah – um, a British thing.’ OK, it isn’t but I’m not about to explain the Zhōus notions since I have no clue what science it’s based on and which, upon reflection, might seem a little outlandish, even though they are always spot on.
Joji takes the bottle of wine from Mariola and pours us each a glass. When he hands it over I take a big gulp.
‘A British thing?’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘And Xavier has the right kind of shoulders for marriage? Do I?’ Joji does an exaggerated shoulder shimmy.
‘I’m not exactly an—’ His face falls. ‘Yes, your shoulders are exactly right for matrimony.’ There. Crisis averted.
‘Shame about the mouth on you though. Who’d marry a man who rates guests hot or not?’ Mariola says.
‘Ooh, be real, we all do it even if we do it silently! One day, when I’m old, like thirty or so, I’ll get serious but for now, let me be young and stupid, puh-lease.’
I laugh. Oh to be a twentysomething again, when the world is such a simple place and the only thing that matters is the amount of fun you cram in to every day.
Joji takes a slug of his wine. ‘And Xavier? Is there something you’re not telling us, Harper? Got your little love-heart eyes locked on our fierce leader?’ Damn, hadn’t we glossed right over my faux pas?
I scrunch up my face as if he’s totally off the mark. Which he so clearly is. ‘I think not.’ I do my best to appear unruffled. ‘I’m single and not ready to mingle. I’ll take my men fictional, thanks.’
Mariola frowns as Joji grins. I press on.
‘While I’m sure he’s a lovely guy underneath all that finger-clicking madness, he’s just not my type of guy.
Yeah, sure, he definitely hasn’t been hit with the ugly stick; in fact, he’s probably one of the hottest guys I’ve ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, but he’s just a bit too coiled for my liking, you know.
’ And here I send a sorry across the waters to the Zhōus.
‘Like… there’s a chance he holds his tension in his back teeth, which is a worrying sign. ’
Mariola’s eyes go wide. It’s possible she’s never heard of such a thing before and if so, I understand that it can be a lot to take in.
‘Not only does it create tension headaches, but it’s a sign of bigger issues.
It’s a visual clue that the person, hot as they may be, is uptight.
Coiled. A spring that hasn’t sprung but will explode at any moment, usually in a messy, possibly deranged way…
’ Just like the Zhōus said about me. Which, I mean, on looking back, I’m sure isn’t the case.
Or maybe it was and I just needed some island time to unclench.
‘I’m not saying Xavier isn’t gorgeous, or doesn’t have potential, like, if he got off his high horse, it would help, but maybe the man really likes being on top, who could say?
’ My words falter as Mariola’s face goes red and she’s shaking her head so fast, I begin to wonder if she’s in the midst of some kind of medical episode.
Joji doesn’t appear worried; his slow grin only widens.
Am I convincing them? I hurry on. ‘Sometimes I want to slap that sultry smile off his face but of course that’s just fantasy. Umm – are you… OK, Mariola?’
Mariola bites down on her lip and shakes her head urgently.
Joji gleefully points to the space behind me.
I don’t dare turn because I already know from the sweet spicy scent of expensive men’s eau de cologne who it must be.
The bigger question is, how long has he been standing there and how much did he hear?
How the bloody hell am I going to explain this one away and walk away still gainfully employed?
Did I just say I wanted to slap the guy? I meant metaphorically of course.
I paste on a wide smile and turn, rearranging my expression into one of nonchalance. ‘Oh, Xavier, hello, hello. Don’t you look jolly good this evening? Black and white, such a classic combo. Wow, it suits you. Are you here for our The White Lotus watch party? We have snacks! And wine!’
He holds up a hand. ‘Harper, stop rambling.’
‘Me?’ I’m incensed. At least I pretend to be because deflection never fails.
‘Don’t deflect.’
Damn it all to hell. ‘Me?’
‘You’ve already tried that. Deflection is the—’