Chapter 20
K enyon held out an arm and ran a hand over her soft, bare skin. “That argan oil the masseuse used is amazing. My skin feels like silk.”
“Mine, too.” Jessa delicately ran her fingers up one arm and then the other. “I always feel more in tune with my body after a massage. More whole.”
“It makes us more aware of the best of who we are.”
Having finished getting massages in a plush spa near their hotel, the two young women walked down the beach, their reinvigorated skin glowing in the sun.
Each wore a sleeveless, short coverup over their bikinis and no shoes, allowing their bare toes to caress the sand as they went.
A slight breeze off the ocean played with their coverups, causing the fabric to cling to their oiled bodies.
Kenyon felt womanly, daring, brazen even, her senses heightened.
Her arms felt supple, her breasts titillating, her thighs graceful, her entire body having given way to deep contentment.
The breeze picked up a lock of her hair, danced with it, and dropped it over her eyes.
She swept it aside, marveling at how something as simple as the tickle of her hair on her face could be pleasing.
Jessa said, “Too bad we have to get on a plane and go home in a few hours.”
“Yeah, I hate to leave all this bliss.”
“Kenyon.”
She turned around to find Bart, the bartender she’d met the night before at the hotel bar. “Oh, hi.” She knew that sounded lame but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi Bart.” Jessa said his name gamely, knowing why he was there. “Listen, I’m gonna go pack. You two have fun – at least as much as possible in so little time. ’Bye Bart!”
“See ya,” he said as she trotted off. “Oh wait. If you two are leaving soon, I guess I might not see her again.”
“Yeah, we have to leave the hotel in a couple of hours. We don’t want to go home, but…” Kenyon shrugged helplessly.
“Do you have a ride to the airport? I could take you.”
“That would be nice.”
As they walked toward the water Bart said, “I’m sorry you have to go. I was gonna ask you out.”
“You were?” She swept hair out of her face again, wayward as it was in the beach air. “I would’ve liked that.”
“Great. Can this be our date?”
“Sure. Where are we going on our big first date?”
He spread out his arms. “How about the beach?”
“Perfect. Oh look, we’re here.”
“We can wade in the surf on our way to my favorite outdoor Tiki bar down there.” He pointed. “Not my bar, mind you. One that’s even better.”
“I see. Well, the bar itself might be better but I’m sure the bartender is not.”
“Let’s go see.”
They smiled at one another, taking each other in.
Chatting all the way, they landed on the only two available barstools at a Tiki bar outside a hotel.
The place was packed with people having a good time.
A gaggle of hotel guests frolicked in the nearby pool.
Recorded Mexican music could be heard in the background.
“I want to try a new tropical drink before I go.” Kenyon eyed the extensive beverage menu on a large board above the bar. “What do you recommend, Mr. Bart the Bartender? I’ve had daiquiris, pina coladas, and mojitos. I’m never having a mojito again but that’s a long story.”
“Hmmm. Let’s see. Would you like something light?”
“Oh yes please.”
“Do you like coconut and pineapple?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“How about cranberry juice?”
“One of my favorites.”
“A Tropical Bay Breeze is coconut rum with pineapple and cranberry juices. It’s really good.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The bartender took their order and when her drink came, Kenyon sucked on it zealously.
“This is delicious! I’m glad I didn’t know about it earlier. I’d have been drinking these all day long every day and would have kept myself drunk as a skunk.”
Bart took a swig from his bottle of Tecate beer and pointed at her with it. “I want to hear the mojito story. I suspect that being ‘drunk as a skunk’ has something to do with it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. You sure you want to hear a pitiful sob story about an almost-bride and a cheating-groom and their wedding-funeral?”
“Hit me.” He took a long drag on his beer in preparation.
By the time Kenyon neared the end of her sordid tale, a dozen bar patrons listened in.
She’d turned around on her stool to face them and had to look from side to side to make sure everyone in her audience could hear.
They homed in on her like fervid fans meeting a scintillating celebrity, which encouraged her mightily.
She picked up steam and became more and more dramatic, aided considerably by the Tropical Bay Breeze she sipped as she went along.
“And then!” she reached the grand finale, lifting her glass high like a practiced thespian.
“What?” a woman who’d had a toot or two too many asked, her bleary eyes wide with wonder.
“Well, I hit him with that beautiful bouquet of flowers and stormed out. Left him standing there alone at the altar in front of all those guests…” she emphasized ‘a-a-all’ and swept out an arm to indicate a bunch of people “…like the douchebag he is.” With a dramatic flair she sucked up the last of her drink with a loud slurp.
“Bravo!” Bleary-eyes hollered and clapped. Others joined in for a rousing round of applause.
“Yeah! Just what the flaming asshole deserved,” a man declared in his gruff smoker’s voice.
“What a jerk,” an elderly woman squeaked.
The small crowd had drawn the attention of even more patrons. They started to disperse, but they came to a screeching stop when Bart spoke up.
“I have a story to match that one!” he announced loudly, grinning at Kenyon. “It seems that this lovely lady and I were meant to meet, as we’ve both experienced the same sorry fate.”
That got their attention. They all came back, plus more. An even larger crowd gathered around.
“I too came here on what was to have been my honeymoon. You see, I too was supposed to get married this summer. June first, to be exact, a day I’d looked forward to for a year.
I supported my fiancée as she planned a ginormous wedding, even though I didn’t think that was necessary.
It seemed like a waste of money to me. But her parents were paying for it all and they were on board, so I did my best to stay out of the way so she could do what made her happy. ”
Bleary-eyes lifted her glass in salute. “Aw. That was nice of you. You’re a sweetie.” She took a drink.
Others agreed, toasting and drinking. Although, none appeared to need an excuse to drink.
“I did push back,” Bart continued, “when she wanted me, my best man – who’s my brother – and my groomsman to wear these godawful baby blue tuxedoes.”
“Baby blue?” somebody hollered. “Like a baby wears? Yuck.”
Bart agreed. “Precisely. Worse yet, because she had a ‘pastel theme,’ we were each to wear a different color bow tie and cummerbund. She let me choose first because I was the lucky groom, after all.” He enjoyed being snide at this part. “I could wear yellow, pink, or lavender.”
“What the hell?” “That’s putrid.” “Wait. No!” “Those are little kiddie colors.” The crowd was adamant in its disapproval of the fiancée’s color choices.
“That’s insane,” Kenyon said. “With your blond hair and Scandinavian-type good looks, you’d look fabulous in a classic black-tie ensemble.”
“Yes-er-ee,” Bleary-eyes agreed, as did others.
“Why, thank you for the compliment. Alas, my bride-to-be didn’t share your sentiments. I gave in and chose lavender, my brother wore yellow, and my groomsman got the godawful pink.”
His audience made faces and shook their heads in disbelief.
“So, we’re up there at the altar ready to say our vows.
I’m thrilled. The time has finally come to make our love for one another official.
I could tell that Veronica – that’s my fiancée – was nervous.
I thought it was just jitters from all the hoopla.
Well, it comes time for her vows, and she starts to cry.
Great big boo-hoo tears. She’s trying to say something, but no one can understand through all the blubbering.
Suddenly, she points at my groomsman, the guy I thought was my best friend, and she says, “I wanna marry him !”
Gasps and swearing rang out from the crowd that had become as surly as a crew of drunken pirates.
“She runs to him, he takes her in his arms, and they kiss! Right there in the middle of my wedding!”
“Oh my word, I’m so sorry.” Kenyon placed a hand on his arm. He took her hand and gallantly kissed it.
“Thank you,” he said. “In my case, I’m the one who walked out. I drove around for the rest of the day in utter disbelief. The next day I boarded the plane to come on my honeymoon alone. And I haven’t gone home.”
“Sweetie,” Bleary-eyes said, coming closer and looking him in the eyes, “do you think if you’d picked the godawful pink she might’ve married you?”
Silence fell over the crowd, then a titter, then a guffaw, then full-blown raucous laughter.
Bart hugged the woman. “That I don’t know,” he told her. “But I do know I would’ve been in for a life of misery if I’d married her.”
“Yeah,” the gruff guy noted, “you’d still be wearing that goofy baby blue and lavender to try to make her happy.”
“What happened to them?” someone asked. “Do you know?”
“Oh yeah. I call home regularly. My brother fills me in. After I left the church, most of my family and friends left, too. But hers stayed. There was quite a hubbub for about half an hour, then they crossed my name off the marriage license and my fiancée and my friend got married.”
“No!” “Bastards!” “He weren’t never no friend o’ yers!”
“It turns out they’d been having an affair for months,” Bart added.
“Hey, that’s just like her,” the elderly woman noted, pointing at Kenyon.
“I’d say you two are perfect for each other,” the gruff guy insisted. “You two should get hitched.”
That got hoots and hollers of approval from the crowd.
“Oh, my,” Kenyon faltered in reply. “We, um, just met yesterday.”
“It’s love at first sight!” someone yelped.
A cheer rang up and the young couple, embarrassed and entertained in tandem, chuckled along with their fans.
“Well, whatever this is,” Kenyon announced. “I’m afraid it’s over. I have a plane to catch in less than two hours. This has been such fun. Thank you everyone for the words of encouragement. It does me a world of good.”
“Oh no. You can’t leave already,” Bleary-eyes moaned. “You just got here. At least for us.”
“Thanks, but I must go. And thank you, Bart, for sharing your story, too. It’s good to know I’m not alone in the ‘been bamboozled department.’”
“No problem,” he said, grinning. “Thanks everybody. The same goes for me. It’s been a pleasure.”
Folks said their goodbyes as Bart pulled some bills out of his pocket to pay their tab.
The bartender put up a palm. “Oh no. I refuse. You’ve just provided the best entertainment I’ve had all summer. Take care, lovebirds.” He shot them a cockeyed grin.
Bart threw down a ten despite the rebuff. He knew how hard bartenders worked.
“Thanks, man,” the bartender said, tapping two fingers to his forehead as if tipping an imaginary hat.
As they walked across the sand on their way back to the hotel, they volleyed questions back and forth in a hurry to get to know one another. After all, islanders now considered them to be a couple.
She learned that Bart was a certified electrician and had been employed in his family’s construction business since his teens.
She told him about her new degree in communication and the need to write a compelling story within a week to try to secure a job with The Detroit News .
She asked if he thought he’d stay in Los Cabos long-term, and he said he had no plans to return home.
But he changed course and said that would depend. He didn’t specify.
They figured out that the distance between her home in Michigan and his in Ohio was only about an hour’s drive. That realization flabbergasted them.
“Sylvania is next to Toledo, right on the other side of the border,” he told her. “Not far from Detroit.”
“Wow. That’s close. Well, if you ever do decide to go home, give me a call. Maybe we could have lunch or something.”
“I think I’ll be coming soon.”
“Oh yeah? How soon?”
“I don’t know. Maybe next week.” He tunked her arm with his.
“Huh. Next week you’ll meet another girl here and forget all about me.” Her wistfulness belied her need to protect herself.
He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “No Kenyon. I could never forget you. You’re so fun and smart and so incredibly beautiful!”
“What? Me? Go on.” She sloughed him off and started walking again, gesturing as she went. “I don’t fit anybody’s definition of ‘pretty,’ let alone ‘beautiful.’ Well, except my parents’. But they don’t count. I’m not skinny like all those models and movie stars and even Jessa.”
“No you’re not.” He took her hand and turned her toward him so they faced one another. “You’re much more beautiful than that. When a man holds you in his arms, he’ll know he has a real woman.”
Speechless, she impulsively stood on tiptoe and kissed him, a gentle show of her gratitude. “Thank you, Bart. That’s the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me.”
For his part, Bart slowly wrapped his arms around her waist to draw her closer. He lowered her head to kiss her deeply, passionately. Kenyon found herself melting in his arms.
“Hey, look!” someone exclaimed. “It’s the lovebirds!”
They looked up to see a couple that had been in the bar. The couple waved and the woman threw them a kiss.
“They’ll be married in no time,” the woman told the man as they walked away.
“I have to go,” Kenyon said, forcing herself out of Bart’s arms.
“I know. I’ll get my car and be out front.”
Suddenly shy, she nodded and trotted up to the hotel.
Half an hour later she and Jessa were in his car and not long after she was saying goodbye to the man that a drunken crowd at a Tiki bar in a tropical haven far, far from home thought would soon be her spouse.
When she said goodbye to him, she felt certain she’d never see Bart the Bartender again.