Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
TRISTAN
It’s just after seven now, and Lexi has left to meet with Miriam.
I didn’t mean to be curt to her earlier, but I’m not sure she was even aware of my mood this morning.
I’m still exhausted. Long-haul flights, jet lag, and the crowning glory of feeding every last fucking bug on this island last night got the better of me.
I might have to work in a nap at some point today to get back to my usual even keel—a nap that preferably happens on the bed and not on an uncomfortable sofa that gives a boat bunkbed a run for its money.
Poor Lexi. She had a hard time hiding her chagrin—it was almost comical. If she thinks I’ll serve her up to the mosquitoes, she doesn’t really know me. And that thought itches more than all the bug bites combined.
The thought of her and those innocent—my ass—girly PJs she slept in only makes me groan.
When I came home last night, she was fast asleep.
I couldn’t stop my gaze from running over every part of her as I got ready for bed, mapping out the parts I touched once.
I won’t fuck it up like that again. My temper’s short for more than one reason, but today of all days, I can’t let it show.
There’s only one way I’m going to survive these three months—by not looking at her at all, which is impossible. I’m going to figure out a plan B here.
All showered, I’m digging through every last long-lost emergency kit squished in my general diving bag, but the best I have are some antihistamines.
They should take the edge off. Dressed in board shorts and a T-shirt, I heave my diving bag over my shoulder and it digs in, rubbing the bite that’s been driving me nuts since four this morning. Ugh…ahhh. The relief!
I walk over to the general guest area, but there’s no sign of Lexi. Only some waiters are milling about, setting up the breakfast buffet. I recognize our waiter from last night, and he smiles at me.
“Don said to point you to the staff canteen first so you can have breakfast,” he says, and I follow him to the kitchen and around the back. Quiet chatter comes from a dining area where several uniformed staff are either eating or finishing up their coffees. I spot Don and walk over to him.
“Wow. What happened to you?” he asks as his gaze plots the constellation of bites on my face.
“Fell asleep on the sofa.”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa.” Don shakes his head. “And Lexi didn’t come wake you up to call you to bed?”
“She was out stone cold before me. With the jet lag, it sort of happened before we noticed.” At least on a boat if you’re grumpy as fuck everybody else is delighted that you’re leaving them alone. Here there seems to be no escape.
“You should be careful,” he warns. “We don’t officially have any malaria or dengue fever on the island…
” He lowers his voice. “But that’s because everybody who comes here travels via the mainland and can pick it up there.
We’ve never had guests report that they got sick after a stay with us, but don’t do something irresponsible like that again, okay?
Get under the net at night and stay there. ”
Right. Between Don’s age and word choice, I feel as if I’ve been reprimanded by the school principal. “I hear you.”
“Do you have anything for the bites? Ointment?”
“No, it’ll be okay. Nothing like seawater to cure an itch or two.”
Don harrumphs. “That fiancée of yours should take better care of you.”
Irritation grates through me—to imply that a woman should mother me when I’ve functioned without one since I was ten. Fuck. Lexi would spit fire at Don’s suggestion.
I hold back an acerbic retort, and luckily, Don is quick to move on with a rush of staff introductions.
I nod at everybody. Roger and Mike are here too, and although Mike smiles at me while chewing, Roger gives me that glare.
They’ve listened in on Don’s reprimand, and Roger’s eyes tell me everything I don’t need to know. He thinks I’m an idiot.
I grab a fresh roll and some cold cuts and cheese, stack it all together, down a glass of orange juice, and nod to Don. “Let’s go.”
“That’s all you’re eating?” Don asks as I heave my bag over my shoulder again.
“I don’t dive on a full stomach.”
With a nod, he leads the way to the dive center.
As we approach, I see the big freshwater dipping barrels for cleaning gear after a salty dive, and a neat hanger system for suits to drip dry. The dive center itself is in the first enclosed building I’ve seen since arrival, and Don actually has to unlock the front door.
“Don’t tell me you have security issues here?” I ask as he disarms the alarm.
“No, not really, not of that sort, but the equipment is expensive and has good resale value, as you know.” He opens the door wider. “I’ll run you through the security system when you lock up tonight.”
“That’s good.” Semi-decent scuba gear can set you back five thousand dollars, and from what I’ve seen of Beaumont, they won’t use a basic brand.
I don’t give his comment any more thought as Don switches on the lights.
I breathe easy. Whoever designed this had a plan.
Don walks around and opens the locked window slats one by one, and natural light floods inside with a welcome breeze.
I lower my bag to the floor. A wide counter runs along one wall which hosts a whiteboard with a roster, a list of dive sites, and a few other just-stick-me-up-somewhere notices.
There are the usual rails filled with dive suits in all shapes and sizes, the fins, the masks, the buoyancy control devices or BCDs, and regulators.
Everything is neat and tidy, exactly as I expected it to be.
“The air compressor and tanks are at the back,” Don says as he unlocks another door, leading me to a cage for the oxygen tanks. “There’s also a washroom and shower here, but I don’t think it gets used much, as guests tend to go back to their rooms.”
“Fantastic.” I may have stumbled upon my alternate sleeping quarters.
Nobody will know if I come bunk here at night to avoid being feasted on.
That said, three months is a long time to hide out, and at some point, someone will notice.
The word will spread that Lexi and I have broken up or something equally as ridiculous as our fake engagement.
I’m not looking to turn our relationship status into the latest staff gossip.
Don goes behind the counter and points to the roster up on the wall.
“These are the guests who signed up for dives today and where they’ll be going.
Setiawan should be here soon. He’s from Indonesia and has kept the show going, but he’s leaving tomorrow.
So, pardon the pun, we’re throwing you in the deep end.
Setiawan’s wife is pregnant with their first and could give birth at any moment, so he’s not sticking around one minute longer than necessary. ”
“I see.” Setiawan will be flying, so that means he can’t dive today.
Can’t be upping his risk of decompression sickness when he’s about to become a dad for the first time.
Deep end indeed. I look over the roster.
The Pinnacle and Shark Corner are the two dive sites today.
Tonight’s optional night dive has no sign-ups.
The rest of the week is filled out too, and not one site is repeated.
Excellent. I knew there’d be variety here.
“Speak of the devil,” Don says, and I look up to see a man walking in. “This is Setiawan. I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to see how breakfast’s going.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, but you’ll catch up quickly, yes?” Setiawan says as we shake hands.
“Haven’t much choice, do I?”
He chuckles. “You’ll be good. A marine scientist! I’m only a master diver, and to be honest, I don’t have the experience to deal with some of the people who come here. Be prepared for some enthusiasts.” He sighs. “I also have too much on my mind.”
“It will be good for you to be back home.” Seems everybody here has gotten the lowdown on Lexi and me. “You’re going to stick around today?”
“Yes, I’ll go out with you, but I’ll stay on the boat. For the rest, you’re mostly in Roger’s hands, with Mike on standby.”
Soon we’ve covered a lot of ground, from GPS coordinates for dive sites to where all the closest medical facilities are. It strikes me that I’m a man alone here. “What happens when I can’t dive? Get a cold or something?”
“Ha. Don’t get a cold or something.” Setiawan doesn’t look up from where we’re busy compressing air into the oxygen tanks for the morning’s dives.
Okay. I never thought to ask before taking the job—because I had other things on my mind—but a dive center can’t run with one dive master alone. “No, seriously? What happens?”
“They boat someone in from Dar es Salaam or Pemba. In general, it’s a mess, so make sure you give advance notice for getting sick.”
Roger walks in seconds later and nods in our direction as he starts putting equipment together for the ten divers we have on a double dive today.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask under my breath.
“I haven’t been here long enough to figure that out,” Setiawan mumbles back. “Luckily he’s your problem now, and good luck with that.”