Vacation Therapy (9 page)

I stepped back, trying to avoid the shower.

"Come on and look, it won't cost you anything, unless you stare at me. That will cost you.” He waved me closer. “Just kidding, one of these trips will get you out of the sun for a couple of hours, and it looks like you could use a break from it."

I wiped my brow and felt my skin tingle with the sweat. Maybe a look at the clipboard was in order. The sheet for the jungle cruise only had two guys signed up for this afternoon.

Gary noticed my gaze. “Good choice, the jungle cruise. It takes off at two o'clock. Probably the best time to be out of the sun.” His eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Come on, it'll be fun."

"Why not?” I picked up the pen and bent over to sign up for the trip. Quickly, I wrote my name down and then asked, “I thought this trip was free."

"It is."

"If it's free, why do I have to put my room number down?"

Gary took a deep breath and exhaled. “It just keeps track of how many people use the services. It's not our rule, it's the resort's."

I wrote my room number in the blank, but for some reason, it bothered me.

"Good. All you have to do is be in the parking lot in front of the hotel fifteen minutes before the trip, and the shuttle will take you to the boat."

"Thanks.” I smiled and went in search of lunch.

A banquet of chicken, hot dogs, fish, spaghetti, mashed potatoes, rice, corn, salad, and fruit lined the buffet table. Several swimsuit-clad men trickled through the line, picked at the serving dishes, and placed small blobs of food on their plates.

I flipped a chicken breast and scooped a pile of mashed potatoes on my plate, but nothing else looked appetizing. Trying to avoid the sun for a few minutes, I chose a table inside the cabana. All the doors and windows were closed on the seaside in an attempt to prevent the wind from blowing the food across the room.

A minute after I sat down, sweat dripped along my brow, down my nose, and landed in my mashed potatoes. My temperature perception had been fooled by the ocean's breeze. It had cooled the air, making the beach's temperature comfortable, but in this enclosed space, it had little effect. The thick humidity threatened to drown me.

Sitting in the shade and out of the breeze, I felt the real temperature. Sweat broke out over my body, and the hot, humid air clung to my skin. No wonder the sand had been so hot to walk on barefoot. It must be over a hundred degrees in the shade. What would it be like in the sun without the breeze?

Looking around the pool area and hoping John had gone to take a nap or something, I watched the men mill around the pool. A long line stood at the bar, waiting for a cool drink. Geoff still bartended. He nodded in my direction when he noticed me looking.

I picked at the chicken with my fork, but it refused to pull apart. I stabbed the entire piece and took a bite out of it. The chicken was overcooked, tough, and dry. I chewed and chewed, and forced it down with a hard swallow. Maybe the mashed potatoes. After one bite, I knew this meal was going to be dry and tasteless. Hopefully, supper would be better. It couldn't get any worse, could it?

Before running back to the room, I found Sergio, still cutting hair, and took my camera back. Our room was hot and humid, so I turned on the air conditioner. The fan clicked and hummed and, eventually, cool air started to blow, cold enough to send shivers across my tender skin. I stood there for a minute, bathing in the refreshing breeze. This room was going to feel great after the afternoon in the sun.

The digital clock read one-thirty. I turned on the television. Flipping through the channels, I found four stations, two with Mexican soap operas, and HBO and CNN in Spanish. Not much to choose from. My high school had only offered French, so these channels did nothing for me. CNN's storm watch bulletin flashed on the screen, but I clicked the remote back to HBO. The movie
Death Becomes Her
was playing. Goldie Hawn, not in her own voice, rattled off something in Spanish, and I didn't understand a single word. I turned off the set, picked up my camera, and looked into the mirror. My beet red face was slowly turning pink, but it seemed to glow in contrast to my yellow shirt. I quickly applied another layer of sunscreen, just to be safe, and walked down to the front desk to await my ride.

My footsteps echoed in the open tiled corridor. Despite the hollow expanse, I got the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. I turned around, poised, ready for I don't know what.

No one was in sight.

Was someone following me? I scanned the lobby and alcoves, along with all the little nooks and crannies, but no one was visible behind the plants, pillars, or furniture.

Continuing on to the parking lot, I could see the resort had spared no expense for their guests. The transportation to the Jungle Cruise looked like a retired migrant worker truck. The wooden sides appeared to have been green years ago, or was that mold? My allergies would answer that question soon enough.

The bench seats were worn smooth from overuse. Three guys turned to watch my approach. The two magnetic boys with all their earrings or whatever you called the decorations when they weren't in their ears, and an overweight gentleman, who appeared to be in his late fifties. The elderly gentleman wore a Panama hat pulled down low over his eyes, which were hidden by mirrored sunglasses.

Footsteps echoed behind me. I peered over my shoulder as Gary approached. “All aboard,” he called, waving his clipboard.

Had he been the one I felt watching me?

Gary walked past me without a second glance and motioned for us to get in the back of the truck.

With his body builder physique, he wasn't going to be sneaking around this place spying on people. Someone else had been watching me. I knew it.

The magnetic boys scampered into the back of the truck, giggling as the older gentleman struggled to get up. Gary stepped up from behind and finally gave him a gentle boost. The bed of the truck dropped a few inches with his weight.

Great shock absorbers.

Gary motioned for me to go next. After I had climbed in, he hurdled into the back in a single bound. He walked to the cab of the truck and pounded on the roof twice. The engine roared, and the muffler expelled a cloud of black exhaust, followed by a gunshot-sounding backfire.

"We're probably going to be sold off into indentured servitude on this trip,” I said under my breath, trying to joke with no one in particular.

Gary was the only one to laugh. “Wouldn't you be surprised.” His stare held a menace I didn't understand.

"Thanks, I really needed that.” I shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. The feeling of eyes burrowing into the back of my neck returned, forcing me to turn and look around the parking lot.

Nothing.

I strained to detect something; a shadow, a flicker, anything.

Gary's voice startled me. “Relax. I'm trying to make your vacation memorable.” He ran his fingers over his bald head.

"Oh, that it is. Believe me.” Slowly, the hair on my neck bristled, and goosebumps rose across my arms against the tropical heat. I rubbed at the tingle in my arms. That uneasy feeling intensified.

Before Gary could say anything else, the truck lurched forward, bottomed out in a rut, and threw everyone off balance. We all slid back and forth, up and down, the truck threatening to tip over as it rolled through the grooves in the gravel road. Palm trees coated with lime whizzed by like a picket fence. How could this antique achieve this speed?

The unease that had settled over me continued along the truck's path. Was someone following me or would this truck explode? Maybe that's what was bothering me. Maybe I should have asked Sergio to go with me. Or what about Logan or even Tom? Anyone for that matter? Then the thought struck me. I hadn't left a note for Sergio telling him where I had gone.

No one knew where I was going. I didn't even know where I was going.

Now was a fine time to start worrying about that.

Gary started talking to the older gentleman, asking him where he was from and what he did for a living. The magnetic boys were too busy with each other's company to notice the ride or anyone else around them.

The truck drove along the beach's edge. We watched as the terrain sloped down and the underbrush began to thicken. The road veered left, and vegetation appeared on both sides of the truck. Cacti, aloe vera plants, and sagebrush loomed closer as the road narrowed, and then suddenly parted to a small clearing. A yellow fiberglass boat with an outboard motor sat next to a floating dock. Was there room enough for all of us on that thing? And would the boat even stay afloat?

The truck turned around and backed up to the dock. It backfired and died. I doubted it would ever start again. Jumping down, we headed toward the dock. As we neared the boat, it appeared to grow bigger than I had originally thought. The bright yellow fiberglass was deeply scratched. In some places, if I looked hard enough, I could see right through it.

I walked across the pontoons as they bobbed on the water. Choosing the only single seat, I sat down on the front bench and got my camera ready as the other travelers found places to sit.

The magnetic boys sat behind me. The heavyset guy and Gary sat behind them. One seat remained open, in front of the guy who was manning the motor. Our captain, for lack of a better term, had no front teeth, dusty clothes, and what looked like a child's captain's hat perched on the top of his greasy black hair. Toni Tennille would pass out if she saw this captain.

I checked my camera. Then all of a sudden, that piercing sensation returned, this time at the base of my neck. It sent a cold shiver up and down my spine. More goosebumps broke out, and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end.

I turned around and scanned the jungle, but couldn't see anyone. Trying to ignore my prickling skin, I went back to fumbling with the settings on my camera and tried to settle back, waiting for the ride to begin.

A few minutes passed, and then Tom emerged from the brush. He wore denim shorts and his white shirt blew in the breeze, revealing his chest. He started toward the boat. As he approached, he scanned the passengers and smiled when he saw me.

I waved him over.

"So, you're going cruising too?” Tom asked, standing on the dock. He looked down at me sitting in the boat.

"I guess so, otherwise I've been sitting here for nothing.” I glanced over at Gary. “I was coerced into this."

Gary smiled when we made eye contact, but kept talking, ignoring my comment.

Tom started, “I was walking on the beach, and Mike said if I went through that grove, I could take a boat ride through the swamp. I was thinking of going, but..."

"But what?"

"I...” he shrugged his shoulders, “...thought it looked lame.” He avoided eye contact, but didn't continue.

"I'm sure there's still room.” The ice-cold prickles still lingered, but they seemed to be lessening.

He glanced at the back of the boat and appeared to be disappointed, but he said nothing.

I looked at where he had been staring, and the last bench was still open. “I can move to the back of the boat if you wanted company,” I offered.

"No,” Tom held up his hands, “you're in the front seat..."

I stood.

"Sit down,” Gary shouted.

I stopped, with one foot in the boat and one foot on the bobbing dock. “What?” I asked.

All eyes turned to stare at Gary.

"I don't want you to...” his face flushed, as he seemed to search for the right word, “...tip us over.” He smiled, pleased at what he had said.

"I'll be careful,” I said, in Sergio's tone of voice. I stepped out on to the dock. “See."

Tom stood in my way. “I didn't ask you to move."

"I know, I volunteered."

"What about your pictures?” Tom protested.

"I can see the jungle just as well from the back of the boat as from the front.” I pushed past him. “I hear it's all around us."

"But your camera..."

"I took it just in case.” Without waiting for any further argument, I continued around him to the back of the boat and climbed onto the open bench. I motioned for him to follow.

"Thanks,” he said, sitting down next to me, “but I think you should really stay up in front."

Gary turned around and glared at us.

"I'm glad you came. I'll enjoy the company.” I motioned for Gary to turn around and face forward. “I was feeling a little uncomfortable going on this trip alone.” I nodded toward the front seat that I had just vacated and lowered my voice. “I didn't really want to be up front, but it was the only single seat on the boat, so I just..."

"I know how you feel. No one at this resort seems to want to talk to me, except you.” Tom paused for a moment. “Being a star, I get all kinds of responses, but to be avoided like this at Club Fred is very strange. I wonder why?"

"I don't know,” I looked around at the people on the boat. Well, maybe I did.

Tom shook his head, puzzlement still played across his face.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure it's nothing."

"All aboard,” the captain said in a heavy Spanish accent. His face was deeply creased from exposure to the sun. He pulled the cord on the outboard. The motor coughed and choked, sputtered a few times.

Tom and I turned around.

The old man winked as us. “She's a bit temperamental at times, just like a woman.” He pulled the cord again; this time the motor caught and revved.

"Wait! Wait!” A skinny guy with knobby knees and a bright yellow shirt bounced across the dock. “Is there room for one more?"

Gary said, “Not really, if you didn't sign up at the resort with your room number..."

But the guy said, “Yeah, sure, there's an open seat up front.” The guy crawled on board and settled into his seat.

Gary turned to the back of the boat and called over the motor. “I think we're ready."

The Captain nodded, tossed the rope onto the dock and eased the boat out into the waterway.

"I never thought of Mexico as having a jungle. Did you?” I asked Tom.

"I knew it had a tropical climate, but I guess I always thought of it being more desert-like."