Three's a Crowd (5 page)

She turned round suddenly and looked at me. I swallowed, wondering if she’d noticed me staring.

We all sat down in a corner. Marco vanished to get us some beers.

Chloe waved her hand towards the people smoking behind us. “Doesn’t Mr Ripley mind all the drink and stuff?” she said to Cat.

She had to repeat the question, miming, partly because of the noise that still raged around us, partly to help Cat understand what she meant. Cat’s face broke into a smile.

“No,” she said. “Señor Ripley is good boss. He only have one rule. No make problem for guests.”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, we heard. Plus hands off his daughter.”

This had to be repeated to Cat several times as well. At last she grinned again. “
Si
. The boys are telling me this new rule.”

Ryan caught my eye. “At least you don’t have to worry about any other guys while we’re here,” he said.

Marco came back with a clutch of beer bottles in his hands. He offered them round. We sat chatting for a while. Then Ryan and Chloe went off to dance and some of Marco’s other friends came and sat down. They spoke less English than Marco or Cat, but smiled and nodded at me. I was onto my second beer, leaning back in my chair, soaking in all the smells and sounds, when I realised they were talking about Eve.

I couldn’t follow their rapid Spanish, of course. But I was sure I could make out her name being repeated, like I’d heard Marco say it when we arrived.
“Eva, Eva”
, though it came out
“Ay-va”.

I stared at them. I didn’t know what any of their words meant. But from the looks on their faces and their hand gestures, I was pretty sure I understood what they were saying.

One of the boys, a thickset guy standing next to Marco, reminded me of Eve’s ex-boyfriend, Ben. I shuddered, my mind temporarily dragged back to the night he’d beaten me up.

At the time Eve had been two-timing him with me, so he’d had a right to be angry. But he’d gone well over the top – attacking me with two friends, leaving me bleeding and semi-conscious on the ground. I still got jittery sometimes at night – when I was out late on my own.

I forced my mind back to the Spanish boys’ conversation.

“Eva. Eva.”

They were definitely talking about her.

I looked over at the thickset guy. He had this horrible leering expression on his face.

“
Quisiera morrearla
,” he growled suggestively.

The others all laughed.

“
Estás loco
.” That was Marco. “
Eva es la hija del jefe
.”

I turned to Cat. “What are they talking about? What does ‘lyee-ha-del-effy’ mean?”

Cat stretched out her slim arms in front of her. “
La hija del jefe
,” she said. “The boss’s daughter. Eva? They are saying she is – it is a bit rude – they are saying she is good to look at. Do things to. Except her father say ‘no’. You know?”

I nodded, grimly.

“You like her?” Cat’s hand brushed lightly across my leg. “You like
la hija del jefe
?”

I stared at her. Her eyes were laughing at me. They were a deep, dark brown, the colour of chocolate.

“She’s my friend,” I said, uncertainly.

Cat narrowed her eyes again.“Just the friend?”

I nodded, feeling only slightly guilty.

It wasn’t like I was pretending I didn’t have a girlfriend out of choice. Anyway, for all I knew, Jonno could be paying his staff to spy on us.

Better just to keep it quiet.

Soon after that, Marco dragged Catalina off to dance. I wandered around for a bit longer. The music was still playing loudly and more people kept arriving, presumably those who’d been on later shifts. I didn’t recognise anyone any more. And there was no sign of Ryan or Chloe. I guessed they were outside, somewhere on the beach.

I trudged back to the room, alone.

I woke up the next morning feeling far better than I had when I’d got back to the room the night before. The sun was shining. Apart from Jonno himself, I liked everything about La Villa Bonita. And, on top of all that, I was going to see Eve: this morning; then, again, this afternoon – once I’d got my homework for Mum out of the way; and – with a bit of luck – this evening as well.

I glanced across at Ryan’s bed. He was lying half in and half out of it, one arm hanging down to the floor, his fringe flopping over his face.

I checked the time. Ten-forty-five a.m. We had fifteen minutes before Jonno had told us to be by the pool to hear about the jobs he expected us to do. Eve had said it would just be a few hours each day. Another chance to do stuff together, I hoped.

My skin smelled of other people’s cigarettes from the Garito last night.
Ugh.
I darted into the shower and scrubbed myself clean. When I re-emerged, towelling dry my hair, Ryan was sitting up in bed, groaning.

“Oh, God.” He clutched theatrically at his head. “I am sooo fried.”

“What happened?” I said.

He groaned again. “Beaches are not all they’re cracked up to be. Not when you’re with a high-maintenance babe, anyway.”

“What d’you mean?”

“They’re hard and they’re cold,” he said. “Next time I’m taking blankets.”

I grinned. “Chloe insist on going back to her room then?”

Ryan nodded. “I was trying to sneak back up there with her, but Jonno caught me. He was out by the pool boozing with some of the guests. The man’s a freakin’ machine. Never stops. Must’ve been three a.m. He came after us. Told me to get lost. Only not so politely.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Nice that he feels responsible for Chloe, though,” I said, more to wind Ryan up than because I thought it was true.

Ryan snorted. “He doesn’t give a toss about Chloe. He just doesn’t want anyone male within striking distance of you-know-who.”

My good mood deflated a little at this reminder of Jonno’s over-protective attitude to his daughter – and at Eve’s willingness to go along with it.

“You better get ready,” I snapped. “We’ve gotta be by the pool in five.”

Ryan lurched unsteadily out of his bed, still clutching his head. “I need more sleep,” he said. “I didn’t get back here till five-thirty.”

I frowned. “But you said. . .?”

“I went back to the Garito, didn’t I?” Ryan staggered into the bathroom. “More beers. More dancing. If it goes on like this I’ll be dead by Friday.”

I heard him splashing water on his face. He reappeared in the doorway, a toothbrush in his hand, looking slightly less wrecked.

“You were a big hit, by the way,” he said.

“How d’you mean?”

“Marco told me. He’s a really nice guy, you know. He said all the girls who work here were talking about you. Calling you
El Rubio
or something.”

“What’s
El Rubio
mean?”

“The Blonde.”

I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was brown. Light brown. Maybe with a few blondish streaks in the fringe, but. . .

Ryan appeared behind me in the mirror. “I know,” he said. “I told Marco you aren’t really blonde, but maybe out here they’re not so fussy. Well, clearly they’re not so fussy if they think you’re hot . . .
Ow
.”

He ducked as I swung my damp towel at him.

A massive bang on the door made us both jump.

“Ry. Luke.” It was Chloe. “Get your arses out here. We’re going to be late.”

We caught Chloe up by the side of the hotel. It looked completely different in the bright sunlight. A little less smart. A lot less romantic. Kids were running about everywhere, weaving their way through the trees beyond the pool area down to a packed section of beach.

The pool area itself was bustling with people – adults lying out on the loungers and screaming kids in the water.

As we strolled up to the pool I noticed Marco pushing a large trolley laden with towels across the decking that led down to the pool from the hotel terrace. He grinned and waved.

I wondered vaguely where Catalina was. And then I saw Eve. She was standing with Jonno at the bar at the opposite end of the swimming pool. She was wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts and a bikini top.
Jesus.
I practically keeled over on the spot.

Ryan punched my arm. “I wouldn’t let him see you looking at her like that, man,” he said.

Gulping, I looked away.

Seconds later Jonno loomed up in front of us.

He pressed his hands down on my and Ryan’s shoulders and leered at Chloe.

“Okay,” he said. “Jobs. Jobs for everyone. I’ve decided that the girls should do five two-hour shifts a week on either crèche or pool duty and the boys the same but pool duty only – that means fetching soft drinks, towels, clearing up. Rest of the time you’re all waiting tables, except Saturday – that’s changeover day – when everyone pitches in to help out with anything needs doing. Right?”

We all nodded. Jonno held up a bunch of pink and blue T-shirts.

“You can wear your own shorts or skirts with one of these. That’s the uniform, except when you’re waiting tables, but you’ll get kitted out for that later. Oh, and here’s the schedule. Okay?”

Without waiting for a reply, he shoved the T-shirts at Ryan and a piece of paper at Chloe and strode off.

Ryan held out the T-shirts. There were two sorts. A tiny pink version with the words Bonita Babe written over the front in swirly lettering and a larger blue one with blockier type. It said Bonita Boy.

I frowned. Hadn’t Jonno said “
bonita
” meant “pretty”?

“D’you realise what that means?” I said.

“Yeah.” Ryan was staring disgustedly at the blue T-shirt. “It means Jonno wants everyone to think all his male staff are gay.”

I looked over to the pool bar. Eve was still standing with her back to us, chatting to the barman. I had a flashback to the barman at the airport who had stared at her bum. I looked round the pool area. A lot of the men were throwing surreptitious glances in her direction.

I gritted my teeth.

“This isn’t too bad, though.” Chloe leaned against Ryan and pointed to the paper Jonno had given her. “It’s really only a few hours a day – and look, we’re together here and here, and we’re waiting tables at the same time on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays.”

I glanced at the timetable. “What about me and Eve?” I said.

Chloe made a face. “He seems to be keeping you apart.”

I snatched the paper out of her hand. It was true. I was free when Eve was in the crèche. She was free when I was on pool duty. And we were never waiting tables at the same time either.

“Arsehole,” I muttered.

“Who?” said a familiar raspy voice behind me. I spun round. Eve was smiling up at me.

“Your dad.” I explained about the timetable.

“I know,” she said. “But we’ll still have a few hours here and there and all the evenings.”

I stared at her. Why wasn’t she more upset?

We wandered up to the main lobby. As we reached the hotel we had to stand back and wait as a loud family with a never-ending stream of pasty-faced children barged through the doors in the opposite direction.

I glanced at Eve, wondering when we’d get a chance to be on our own.

“Oh my God.” The urgency in Chloe’s voice made me look up. She was watching a woman in tight, cropped jeans and very high heels tottering away from us, towards the pool loungers.

“What?” I stared at the woman. Her tiny bum wiggled as she reached into her handbag for a pair of sunglasses.

“Yeah, what?” Ryan said. “I mean it’s very nice of you to point out attractive birds for us Chloe, but. . .”

“Wait till she turns round,” Chloe said.

We all stared at the woman. She was now bending over a lounger, spreading out a towel. Then she straightened up and turned round.

My jaw dropped.

“They’re enormous,” Ryan breathed.

“Like beach balls,” Eve whispered.

Chloe pursed her lips. “There’s no way those are real,” she said authoritatively.

The woman was causing something of a stir down by the pool. Nearly everyone was watching as she hooked her fingers into her tight, white T-shirt and peeled it over her massive chest and straining bikini top.

“God, she could take someone’s eye out with those,” Ryan gasped. “I need to sit down.”

“It’s because she’s so slim everywhere else,” Chloe said thoughtfully. “Makes the boobs look bigger. Though they’re definitely fake.”

“Oh, no,” Eve whimpered.

Jonno was standing on the other side of the woman’s lounger. He had put on a pair of sunglasses and was grinning. The woman laughed. She was clearly enjoying all the attention she was getting. Jonno reached over and stroked a strand of long, black hair off her cheek.

Eve hid her face in her hands. “How can he do this to me,” she wailed. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“D’you think that’s . . . whatsername?” Ryan said. “Your dad’s
girlfriend
?”

Eve nodded. “Lola,” she said, bitterly. “’S gotta be. She’s even younger than his last one. And those . . . those. . .”

We all knew what she was referring to.

I put my hand on her shoulder. Her skin felt warm and soft. She wriggled away. “For God’s sake, Luke.”

Jonno looked up at us. I whipped my arm down by my side. Did he have some kind of Eve-touching radar?

He started walking towards us. The smile on his face was gone.

“D’you think he saw me?” I said nervously.

Jonno pulled off his shades as he moved into the shadow of the hotel building.

“He’s definitely looking at you, man.” Ryan backed away.

It was true. Jonno’s eyes were fixed on me.

“God, I put my hand on your shoulder for, like, two seconds,” I hissed.

I could feel Eve shuffling nervously beside me. But my eyes were locked on Jonno’s. I was trying to make out his expression. He looked so serious. Not angry, though. But then I remembered his number one rule. There was no way he would do anything in front of the guests.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

He strode up, running his large, ring-heavy hand through his hair. Now he was here, standing in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Ryan and Chloe had vanished.

“Forgot to show you where the computer is, Lance,” Jonno said.