Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
TRISTAN
This morning’s sizzling fun and games have evaporated. In plain terms, my day has gone to shit before it’s even started, thanks to Roger.
The first thing he’s done was to change our first dive’s location without consulting me.
That I could run with. I’ve now covered all the dives here at least once, but still, getting underwater and not finding what you sold to guests made me feel like a sleazy secondhand car dealer.
Then, when we came up after the second dive, he ignored my signal to boat over to where we’d drifted almost hundred yards from where he dropped anchor.
We had to swim—swim—toward him to catch his attention so he would bring the dinghy over to get divers out of the water.
I couldn’t grill him for an explanation in front of guests, and to top it all off, he’s been as sour as a pickled prune.
Did he apologize? Nope. Did the guests feel the tension between us? No doubt. Was there an awkward-as-fuck silence on the boat as we came back to shore? Indeed. Even now, as people are stripping out of their wetsuits, the chatter is subdued.
“Let me stamp that for you,” I say as I move behind the counter to stamp and sign the paper dive logs some people still keep as mementos.
“Those were two great dives,” the guest says, but we exchange an awkward glance.
Fuck Roger. “Tomorrow will be better. I’ll have those whale shark photos for you to download.
” I smile wide, and inwardly I steel myself.
The diving is phenomenal here, but Roger’s attitude is enough to give us a bad rap anyway.
I’m not going to swim against the tide here all the way until April, so something’s going to change, and it’s going to do so today.
As soon as the guests leave for lunch, I strip off my wetsuit and go to the back where Roger is hanging up gear that’s been rinsed in fresh water. I add mine to the production line.
“What happened this morning?” I ask as I start dunking the equipment that still needs to be rinsed.
Roger shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Fuck that.” I’m not on this island to dance around someone’s mood.
“Four of our guests are here to specifically photograph Indian Ocean nudibranchs I’ve already spotted at the Pinnacle, but no, we got dropped down at Shark Alley to find only sand and sea cucumbers.
That isn’t how I’d like to start my day.
Why did you change the GPS coordinates?”
He doesn’t look me in the eye as he drags the line of dripping wetsuits to the side to make space for more.
“Roger?” I push him.
“You know nothing about this place,” he bites through his teeth. “I saw two dhows on the horizon I’d rather avoid, so I did.”
Several seconds of silence bounces between us as he glares at me, waiting for me to crap him out.
“Why?”
“People I don’t want to be associated with. People that we,” he says as he waves a hand between us, “don’t want to be associated with.”
“What do you mean? Illegal fishing? Smuggling?” The coastguard is out and about all the time. We’ve spotted them at least three times since I arrived here.
“Something like that.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“There’re people making thousands of dollars out there doing illegal shit and I—” He breaks off, but his gaze burns with anger he’s trying to subdue. “It’s nothing.”
To say I despise illegal fishing would put it mildly, but this is about so much more than him avoiding those two boats he spotted. I huff out a breath, softening. It’s probably about money.
“For your information, I’m not doing another dive like that.
” It’s an idle threat, but honestly, Mike can come out with us if Roger’s going to be like a teenager, Tarzan-ing around on his mood swings.
“If you’re pissed at something or someone, I’d like to know what or who it is before we head out, understand? ”
Roger leans over the big plastic barrel, gripping the edge so tightly that his dark skin pops veins.
“You’ve got it so easy, you know? You come here, do your time, go back to wherever you came from as if this means nothing to you.
As if this place means nothing to you. Nothing.
” He looks like he wants to flip the barrel, water and all, he’s so riled up.
“I don’t know what to say to that. This three-month stint is actually my salvation.”
“How? You have a good job in America; you have education; you can go work and dive anywhere around the world. You come in here, take over, and leave for the next place once you’re done. Ne’emba and its people can hardly matter to you.”
I stop what I’m doing to stare at him. “Do I work as if Ne’emba doesn’t matter to me?” If Roger knew what’s at stake for me, he wouldn’t be so flippant.
He doesn’t answer, and it’s just as I thought. He’s pissed at me, but I’m only the tip of his iceberg. He’s now dragging wetsuits out with such fury that I want to hoist the white flag and assure him I come in peace.
“Hold on a second,” I say, hands raised. “Let’s get to the bottom of this. Do you hate your job?”
He shoots me a glance. “No… Yes.”
“I see.” I take a deep breath. “Which part do you like, and which part do you hate?”
Roger is quiet for a moment, and I give him time to arrange his thoughts. I’m almost done with the masks and fins when he speaks up.
“I love the sea. I grew up on Pemba, and there’s salt water in my veins.
But I want more. I want to do more.” He stalls, and it’s as if he’s gathering courage.
“Last night you dismissed me as if I had no place here, but I didn’t go.
I listened to your conversation with the guests, and I should have been there.
To learn. What do I even know about these nudibranchs these guests want to see? ”
Jeez. The multiple implications of his words hit me at once, and I’ll have to come back and work through all of them one by one.
But the biggest surprise is that we’re getting somewhere.
“Okay. I’m sorry. Last night it was late, and I thought you’d like to get home to be with—” Fuck me.
I don’t know her name. Instead of making an ass of myself, I rake my hands through my wet hair with a groan.
“Let’s have some real talk. You hold the fort. I’m getting us some beers.”
I take a blitz shower in the washroom and dress in shorts and a T-shirt.
When I come out, he’s still busy packing things away, so I rush to the nearest bar and get two cold beers from the barman.
I bet there’s a no-drinking rule for staff on the job, but this is bro time, and I’m not going to mess this up by talking to Roger without a drink in hand.
When I get back, I point to the beach. “Let’s go.”
We walk some twenty yards away from the dive center to a cluster of palm trees and sit down, our backs against the trunks. “Do you dive?” I ask him after we’ve each had a deep pull.
“Yes and no.”
“Right.” Lots of those coming my way. “Why yes and why no?”
“I’ve gone down many times, never deep, but I’m also not qualified so—”
“Why aren’t you qualified?”
Roger shakes his head and takes another drink. “I was learning with Peter—he was here two guys ago, before Setiawan and now you—but it’s always so busy, and we didn’t finish, and then he left.”
Weird. Basic scuba training can be done in a week. “Okay, that we’ll sort out within the next couple of days. I’m qualified to sign off on your training. We can even take you beyond the basic level while I’m here, if you want.”
Roger studies me, his gaze no longer angry, but more curious. “Why would you do that?”
Isn’t it obvious? “I want to help you, and this place can’t have only one dive master. It’s insane.”
He laughs, if a bit bitter. “People aren’t usually so keen to teach us new things.”
“Why’s that?”
“Once we know something, we leave. Go to better places, like you.”
I nod, finally seeing how the current flows here.
This young man is frustrated and stuck in a job at a place that won’t get him anywhere beyond being the boat guy.
If he ups his skills, he will also earn more money and I bet that girl has something to do with half of what goes on here.
I have zero scruples in helping him out.
If he wants to up his skills, I’ll make it happen.
This is what’s needed to have Roger all-in during dives with guests.
He must know what it’s like down there, but he hasn’t experienced it fully.
“I’ll teach you everything I know in the time we have. No problem.”
“What about all those cameras you dive with?”
“What about them?”
“Show me how they work?”
He’s giving me the perfect excuse to go out and film and work on my series without it seeming dodgy. “Sure. Let’s get some lunch, and we’ll start this afternoon.”
Roger shakes his head. “You for real?”
“Yeah, why not? Do you have any other plans?”
“No. But I don’t know. Mike might not like it.”
“Who’s the boss here? Me or Mike?” Technically the correct answer is probably Lexi, for all I know, but when it comes to diving, this is my show, and I’ll direct Mike off the stage if he wants to interfere.
Roger shakes his head and flashes me a shy smile.
“So what’s up with you and the girl from the spa?” Now that I have him here and the words are flowing, I can find out how deep Roger’s frustrations run.
“Deshni? She’s the one, man. She’s the one for me but—” He shakes his head, and now the poor guy looks like he’s about to cry.
“Hey. It’s okay. This is why you need to up your game? I totally get that.”
“I’m trying, but it’s a lost cause.”
“Why?”
“Just look at us. She’s Indian, and I’m African. Her parents want her to marry into an established Indian family in Dar es Salaam. I understand why. They’ve got money.” He wipes his face with both hands. “But I can’t stop feeling about her the way I do. The heart walks its own path. Alone.”
Fuck. I now feel like an ass. I’m faking an engagement while this poor guy can’t live his life with the woman he’s clearly besotted with.
For a moment we both sit and digest the situation, and then he turns to me. “Tell me what’s going on with you and Lexi.”
“With me and Lexi? We’re good. Eventually we’re going to get married.” I’ve vowed to never get married, but Roger doesn’t need to know that.
“Are you?” Roger asks. “When you arrived, it looked like you were here to try to patch things up.”
What? Really? “No. What made you think that?”
“Pfft,” Roger harrumphs. “I see a lot of couples come and go on this island and—” He breaks off with a shrug.
“What?” I feel stripped naked. This guy has a level of intuition I didn’t anticipate.
“We’re good. We’re really good.” Jesus Christ. Did I have to repeat myself there?
Defending my fake relationship with Lexi is my only choice, but if Roger has already smelled a rat, how many other staff are looking at us with narrowed eyes, studying our every move?
“Whatever. When you arrived, you were awkward. Something’s not right.” Roger meets my gaze. “I hope you didn’t cheat on her, because—”
“Hell, no!” I’m not sure when this conversation slipped off this slope but—“I’ll never cheat on her, or on any woman, for that matter.
” I’ve lived through enough of that shit and its repercussions to last me a lifetime.
Love is destructive. I’ve been in the eye of that storm.
If you love someone, really love them, you keep your fucking distance.
The best way to do that is avoid committed relationships in the first place, like I’ve managed to do for years.
Except now I’m engaged—to Lexi, of all people. How did that happen again?
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Roger stands, and I get up too, a bit shaken. “I hope you’re going to go through with what that ring she wears means. You’re lucky to have the right to even ask her. That’s a blessing I’ll never have.”