Dudes Down Under (14 page)

“
That is the absolute best compliment I have ever had. Thank you, Charlie.”

“
I meant it, Lucy. This is an amazing place. I would recommend it to anyone. What, It’s been less than a week. I can see some changes in people already. I know I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.”

“
I am glad. That’s exactly what I had hoped to achieve. I took a chance that a lot of people would be stressed to the max by the lifestyles they were really forced to live. This place gives them free reign to be just themselves - no adoring public and no press. The money I charge will only attract the high rollers. High rollers mean high stress. Believe me, I grew up with the highest roller you would ever meet. He couldn’t make it through a day without a stress attack.”

“
Your father, Lucy?”

“
Yep, dear old dad.”

“
Is he still around?”

“
Nope, been gone over 6 years now.”

“
What got him, heart attack?”

Lucy looked sad and Charlie wondered if he should have even gone there. “Hey, Lucy, it’s none of my damned business. Sorry.”

“
It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t talk about it. Most people don’t know. He went on a hunting trip up in Arnhem land with a bunch of his buddies. Crocodile got him. At least, that’s the official version. Nobody witnessed it. The men he was with claim they were all very drunk. When they awoke next morning my father was gone. Air and sea search failed to find him. There were drag marks on the bank of the river but that could have been a roo being taken. So I guess I’ll never know. I do know my father took risks. He thrived on adrenaline. So it’s possible. Crocs are unpredictable. Even our darling Cyril has his moods.”

“
Shit, Lucy, I am so very sorry. So, you have other family, yes?”

“
No, I was an only child. My mother died in childbirth, so my father raised me, with the help of several nannies and boarding schools, that is. Can we talk about something else, please?”

“
Yep. What do you think of the political situation in Mozambique?”

“
Charlie, you are a nut.”

“
Yeah, but shit, I’m lovable.”

The two of them began laughing again. The tension was broken and the champagne was poured and enjoyed.

Lucy sat on the floor of the hut with her feet dangling over the edge. It was a long way down. She had no fear of heights, however, and was relaxed and comfortable with Charlie. She was unused to feeling that way around men, except for Skeet. But Skeet was more like a brother. She didn’t see Charlie Danvers in that role. That worried her.

Charlie leant back against the timber wall and enjoyed the view. Lucy was a beautiful woman. He was used to beautiful woman. Lucy was more than that. She had a softness and sweetness about her that tugged at his heart, and yet he knew that she must have a core of steel under that exterior. She could never have conceived of or built this amazing place without it. He was intrigued and hopeful that they could become good friends. If he could keep his body under control. Just being near her caused an ache in his crotch. It had been a long time since that had happened so spontaneously.

*  *  *

Jack Starr showered and threw on a comfortable pair of jeans. He laughed aloud at himself. “Well, my lad, now what are ya gonna do? She’ll be here any minute and you are a nervous as a kid on his first date.”

He had thought about this moment for a long time - not in this setting, but with this woman. She had been in his thoughts constantly for months now. He couldn’t figure it and he couldn’t ignore it. He had even taken to recording her daytime talk show just so he could catch up with what she was doing on a regular basis. Now she was on her way over to have dinner with him. He caught himself humming, and grinned. Man, he felt great.

Lana was trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to be comfortable and still feminine. After all, she was about to share a Bar-B-Q with one of the best looking men on the damn planet.

Whoa, girlfriend, where is your head at? What about your golden rule: no involvement with anyone in the business. Yeah, right. That rule had gone south the moment she had opened her eyes this afternoon and found him standing there looking down at her. Jesus, he was a sexy man.

She finally decided on a gentle peach colored number that fell to her ankles in soft folds but was not overly dressy and most definitely comfortable. She pulled her hair up and secured it loosely with a matching comb. She placed a pair of flat open sandals on her feet, put a squirt of Dolce and Gabanna on her throat, and headed off on foot to find Bungalow 3 West.

Chapter 18

Skeet settled himself into a deck chair towards the front of the outdoor movie theatre. Cyril was happily drinking his fourth beer and waiting for the start of the film. Ginny spotted them and came over, as did Doc.

“
So, Skeet, do you think this is a suitable film for an impressionable lad?” asked Doc with a smile.

“
Well, why not? I can’t see a musical doing me any harm, mate.”

“
Not you, ya bloody drongo, Cyril. And what do you mean musical? This is about as far from a musical as you’ll ever get.”

“
Oh hell, keep ya voice down. I told him it was a musical. What else could it be with that title, mate? I mean
Last Tango in Paris
hardly sounds like a western or a spy flick.”

“
Shit, is Cyril ever in for a shock. You too, mate.” Doc was laughing hard and turned to inform Ginny of the situation.

Ginny said, “Huh. I thought it was a dance thingy, like, um, that Saturday night thingy that my mom told me about.”

“
Fever,” said Doc.

“
No, I feel just fine,” said Ginny.

“
Shit a brick,” said Doc and poured himself another Gin sling.

Ten minutes into the movie and Skeet thought he'd better take Cyril home. He was tired of putting his hands over his eyes and he also had Cyril to think about. Not a bloody musical, alright. Doc coulda warned me.

Will you stop that, Skeet? I want to see what’s going on or coming off. Why is he …? Oh, Ewww, that looks disgusting. What the …? Why is she on her knees? Did she lose something? Where’s the music? Why is Marlin praying like that? Oh God, over and over. Can’t he remember his lines? Now what are they …? Oh my God, that is seriously gross. Move ya bloody hand, Skeet. Eeewww, no, put it back.

“
Um, Cyril, it’s not a musical, mate.”

No shit, Sherlock. I still gotta find out about this Sherlock character but, geez, I love the expression. Look, Skeet, what the …? Oh, is he dead? What did I miss?

“
C’mon Cyril, time we left, mate. You are too young to be watching this sorta stuff.”

What’s my age got to do with anything? Oh look, he didn’t die after all. What is she doing with that? Skeet, take me home. I was gipped. Musical, my four feet. He didn’t sing a word. I am soooo disappointed. Ah well, win some, lose some, eat some.

“
We’re outta here, people. Catch you lot tomorrow,” said Skeet.

“
Hey, Skeet, where’s Lucy? She normally joins us for the movie,” asked Ginny.

Yeah, Skeet, where is Lucy?

“
Oh, you guys know our Lucy, work, work, work. She’s checking out the Tops.”

“
Oh dear. She really should learn to relax more,” said Doc. “Maybe I should head up there and talk to her about that.”

“
NO! I mean, no. Uh don’t do that. She said she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“
Oh, fair enough, then.”

“
G’night, everyone.”

A chorus of “Night Skeet, night Cyril,” followed them as they made their way back to Cyril’s bungalow.

“
Phew, mate, that was a close one.”

Huh, what was? What did I miss? You know I hate to miss anything. What, already?

“
I sure hope our girl's alright up there with Charlie.”

LUCY is with Charlie Danvers? Oh do tell. How wonderful! Is it serious? I have to know right now, Skeet, because if he doesn’t treat our Lucy properly, I will just have to eat him.

“
I’m sure she’ll be just fine and dandy. He seems like a nice enough bloke, and he’s an Aussie too.”

Oh, oh, now I am worried. An Aussie, you say? Who knew? He sounds just like a Yank to me.

“
C’mon, me old mate. I’ll read ya favorite book and then I’m gonna have an early night.”

Sleep? How can you even think about sleeping? Lucy could be in trouble. Maybe he’s an axe murderer … or worse, a salesperson.

“
I might just check on Lucy’s bungalow to make sure she’s home safe and sound before I turn in.”

You do that. I will not sleep a single wink till I know she’s safe. Oh my, an actor… oh my!

*  *  *

Lana Peters was short of breath as she approached the bungalow. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the long walk. She vaguely recognized the heady buzz of anticipation and was determined to override and block it as she had always done. Career first, life second, that was her code. The other voice was annoying the shit out of her. ‘What harm could it do?’ it said. ‘It’s only dinner,’ it said. “Only dinner, my occasionally fat ass!” She laughed at herself, realizing she had spoken aloud. “Great, now I’m talking to my damned self again. This ‘Alice in Wonderland’ shit has got to stop.” That made her smile. She was still smiling as she walked up the pathway.

The man had been watching her approach. He heard her laugh and watched her square her shoulders. God, she looked marvelous - soft and girlish, and very, very pretty. His heart thumped in his chest. Easy, Jack boy, easy. Don’t go scaring her off.

“
You look wonderful,” he said.

“
Holy shit, I didn’t see you sitting there. You scared the whoop out of me!”

“
Do I?”

“
Oh, uh, well, I mean … Hell, you know what I mean.”

“
Yes, yes I do. Well come on out the back, pretty lady, and let’s get this show on the road.”

“
Something sure smells great,” said Lana, sniffing the air. “Mm, is that garlic, and um, lemon grass, yeah?”

“
Absolutely, pretty lady. You got a great nose. Come to think of it, the rest of the package is pretty damned easy on the eyes as well.”

Lana felt her skin grow hot, and not just because of the compliment. The look in those damned eyes was melting her resolve and her bones simultaneously. The voice squeaked a final warning.

She told it to go to hell. Tonight was hers. Tomorrow could wait, just for once.

The steaks looked done perfectly, as did the shrimp and blue swimmer crab.

“
I thought we might eat out here. These nights are so perfect. Shame to waste them by going inside,” said Jack.

“
Wonderful. Can I help with anything?”

“
Yeah, be a honey and grab my shirt from the sofa. I don’t want to sit half-naked while we eat.”

Lana stopped herself just in time from saying it was fine by her. She went in and grabbed the cool cotton blue shirt. “Mmm, same color as those damn eyes.”

“
Sorry, pretty lady, did you say something?”

“
No, no - nothing.”

“
Uh-huh. What would you like to drink? A nice red, or a rosé maybe?”

“
Mateus Rosé! I haven’t had that for so long. Sounds great to me.”

Jack already had the table set outside. There was no breeze and the sky stretched into infinity, with a million tiny twinkling lights. He lit candles on the table and pulled Lana’s seat out for her.

They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by a, “Mm, that is so good.”

“
The steaks were perfect, Jack. But fair warning. I get into a dreadful mess when I eat crab.”

“
Go for it, honey. Water bowls with lemon on the table. Just dunk the fingers and enjoy.”

Lana giggled like a young girl and did just that. The conversation flowed easily, and so did the rosé.

Jack went indoors and soft music floated out. “Leonard Cohen, my favorite,” he said.

“
Mine too, although I guess it depends on my mood. Sometimes I just need to dance.”

“
What do you like to dance to?” he asked.

“
I am an old-fashioned gal. I love rock 'n' roll, R&B ... hell, I just love music.”

He nodded in confirmation. He said nothing more. For the moment they sat quietly and enjoyed the master singing his music. Conversation was unnecessary. They were simpatico.