Yeah, so maybe I gaped a little. That much money is rare to find in Myrtyle Point, you see! We counted out it out at a weigh station. 2400 dollars, exactly. Factor in the whole Canadian thing and we had well over two and a half thousand dollars. Not the sort of thing you can spend all at once! Well, at least not unless you were really trying. We celebrated our newfound wellbeing with a hearty meal at a neighboring IHOP (I guess the "International" really isn't just for show!). Two Rooty-Toot-Tooty Breakfasts later, we had US$ 2389. After some quick mental math, we figured we could live like IHOP Kings for at least 240, by which time we figured we'd either be arrested or hate eachother anyway. There was another part of the equation left to be figured in, though- sleeping. You see, you'd think it would have come to us early, but the concept didn't really hit us until the sun was setting outside our booth's window. Where were we going to sleep? A motel? How much did motels even cost? Would we be allowed to rent a room? Would there be any vaccancies? And more importantly- just how many rooms were we getting? You know, we really didn't have that much money. $2,400 might sound like a lot, but if you need to support two people for any length of time, it really just wasn't that much. So, in my reasoning anyway, it would be so much more cost efficient to share a single hotel room. We were both mature enough to handle sharing a bed, I hoped. And as long as I didn't lost control and jump all over Randy, we would be fine. And so it was night and we were getting ready to sleep in our double bed. I was nervous. So was he. "So, ready for our first night together?" I asked jokingly. Randy just looked at me for a minute, like he didn't know if I was kidding or what. "Uh, yeah. And yourself?" I'd never been more ready for anything in my entire life. But, I had to play it cool. "It'll be a blast." I grinned, trying to disguise my heart thumping away in my chest, THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP drowning out the rest of what I could hear. I didn't think he noticed. We went to sleep on extreme opposite ends of the bed, both insanely near falling off. I sadly took his distance as a sign that he felt nice and friendly towards me, but didn't really want to jump my bones as much as I wanted to jump his. Which almost broke my heart, and I was about to get really depressed about it and maybe shed a few silent tears in the dark over it, when I fell asleep. I needn't have worried. I woke up at ten the next morning, wrapped in Randy's arms. It was like we'd gone to sleep that way. It was perfect. He woke up a few moments later, and we had a moment, a moment of clarity when I thought that maybe something was going to happen. We looked at each other for a long time...then leapt apart. The bed incident wasn't mentioned for the rest of the day. It was a huge disappointment. The rest of the day was spent in an extremely leisurely fashion. We had an intense moment of freedom when we realized that we no longer had parents and that we were no longer legally accountable for school since, well, we were in a different country. We almost didn't know what to do with ourself. Almost. We managed. One major arguement of adults for school is that us teenagers would be on the loose all the time, running reckless because we wouldn't have anything to do all day. Which, of course, is complete bullshit. We didn't need school and we didn't need parents. We weren't going to end up in therapy because our shackles had been broken. It was a wonderful day (putting aside all the unrequited love angst), and I really didn't want it to end. However, as we were walking back from a beach in Vancouver, our day came to an abrupt halt. We'd been wandering around the parking lot for about twenty minutes, trying to locate the LandRover, when it hit us. The car had been stolen. You know, people always said a lot of nice things about Canadians. For a while, the whole Myrtle Point tourist industry (that being my father, and Mike, owner of the Bed-Breakfast-Grin, over on Elm Street) was scared shitless by our Great Northern Brothers. The rumour going around town was that Canada's friendly helpful staff was going to usurp the US Northwest's role as The Official Tourist Slut of the Decade. For years, we've been getting traffic up from California, looking for permeable air I'd imagine, who'd "simply love!" the Northwest, and pour their Silicon Valley capital into our fine establishments. But I guess they realized rather quickly that a dollar goes farther north of the 49th parallel, and when word of the courtesy of the folks past Blaine leaked out- we figured we were S.O.L. But now, I suppose, Em and I had stumbled upon Myrtle Point's saving feint- Canada wasn't really all it was cracked up to be. Because, once you wiped away all the maple syrup and whiskey, deep down, Canada was just as seamy as the United States. Deep down, Canada was full of things like the fact those fucking Canucks stole our godamned car! Anger aside, where did that leave us? Let me count the ways. We were in a foreign country. We barely spoke the language (Weh burr-lay spook da lang-guige). We didn't know what street we were on, much less what district of town, much less the fact I wasn't even sure what town we were in (too many godamn V-somethings!). We had no means of transportation, and I do believe all busses in Canada were reserved solely for touring hockey teams. I sat down on the curb and sighed. Loudly. A bum looked up from picking through a trash-can. I was tired. I was hot. I didn't really want to be sitting at a beach in Vancouver without many options left. Randy was desperately muttering things. About how lost we were and how fucked we were and how he didn't know how he'd ever gotten me into this mess, and how I should be at home with my family, drinking bottled water and talking about my day. He wasn't making much sense. I assumed it was panic. Besides, it was kind of cute. The truth was, I knew exactly where we were. I knew where we were in relation to our hotel, I knew where we were in relation to the Canadian border, I wasn't lost. The problem was, of course, I could get us to the hotel only if we had some means of transportation. The car was gone. We couldn't report it stolen, because it had already been stolen, by me. I idly wondered how my parents were reacting to the whole deal. I assumed mom was drinking a great deal, and my father was actually somewhat sad. It couldn't be avoided. I had no regrets. Perhaps it was good that the LandRover was stolen. At least it wasn't evidence against us anymore. In the meantime, though, we had a huge problem. Randy and I had just about given up hope when we heard an insistent car horn. We both looked up...and were faced with Randy's old "girlfriend," Lolly. She beckoned for us to get in her Jeep. I started to comply, but Randy just sat there, staring in apprehension at her and the vehicle. "It sure was nice of you to come and get us." "She grew up in an Indiana town; had a good looking mamma who never was around! But she grew up tall, and she grew up right, with those Indiana boys on an Indiana night!" I groaned. "Lolita, you could at least answer her." She hated being called by her real name. "Well, she moved down here at the age of eighteen; threw the boys away, it was more than they'd seen! Randy was introduced and they both started grooving, she said 'I dig ya, baby, but I got to keep moving!'" Emma shot me a raised eyebrow. I jabbed the eject button. "That's not even how the song goes, Lolly." Lolly shot me a hurt look. "Oh, really? How careless of me. Sorry to play with your feelings like that, Randy." Uncomfortable silence followed. It usually lives in the wake of Lolly Ruida. Emma, bless her, broke it. "Where exactly are we going?" Lolly looked at her like she'd just now noticed the third passenger. "Oh! Well, we're going to my Uncle Mary's house. He lives in Vancouver with his wife Philip." Emma looked confused. "Don't you mean..?" I cut her off quickly. "The, uh, Ruidas are many and storied, Emma!" She looked confused, but dropped the subject. Lolly picked up conversation again. "We'll stay there for a day or two. Uncle Mary is out of town with Aunt Philip, but I'm sure they won't mind us staying for the night!" Emma smiled. "Sounds nice." I grimaced. I felt summer creeping in, and I definetly was tired of this town again.
***
Uncle Mary's house was the plain suburban type. We parked Lolly's Jeep out front and helped ourselves to the front door. Four hours and one dinner out later, we all helped again, this time to beds. There were only two in the house, and gender taking precedence, Lolly and Emma got bunked together. I got the room on the far side of the house, near the garage. I couldn't get to sleep though. It felt..wrong. Without Emma. I laughed bitterly. Thanks ever so much, Lolly. About 2 A.M. I started a midnight raid on the kitchen. Havarti and turkey sounded good to me right about then. Imagine my dismay, then, at finding not a fresh thing in the fridge. Everything inside was rancid or getting there. By this point, the idea of a sandwich had been burning in me long enough to make me a fair deal hungry. I was willing to settle on canned food. I made my way to the garage. The garage was in the far part of the house, and, despite the open nature of the front door, locked. Some careful sleuthing, however, found the key to be no other place than right in the doorknob! I opened the door, and watched with horror as my life took an unpleasant change. There was a middle age couple laying on the floor. They were quite dead, and seemingly had been for a while. Next to them lay a bloodied crowbar. And parked next to the crowbar was the Ramaley family LandRover. Lolly rolled onto me for the sixth time in a row. She kept snuggling in and throwing her arm (or whatever body part was handy) around me in her sleep. I was beginning to wonder if she batted for the other team. Each time she did this, I had to heave her off and shrink to the other corner of the bed, hoping she wouldn't attack me again. Maybe she viewed me as her living, breathing teddy bear. Whatever the cause, I was getting mighty sick of it. I finally got up, grabbed the top blanket and a pillow, and snuck downstairs. Coming in I'd noticed that couch looked comfortable, perhaps I could actually get to sleep there. However, my plans were foiled (to my delight) when I found Randy sitting on the couch, staring off into space in distress. "What's wrong?" I asked. I used my indoor voice, but he still turned around all quickly like I'd shouted it. "What are you doing here?" He sounded confused and alarmed. I began to wonder what the hell was going on. "Lolly has some trouble with personal sleeping space. And she's not exactly my idea of a great snuggling buddy. I thought I would crash down here. What's up?" Randy looked around in an insanely paranoid way for about ten seconds, then beckoned for me to come closer to him. When I did, he whispered, "Emma, we have got to leave here...tonight!" "Leave? Well, it's not exactly perfect, but we can't do much without an automobile. I know you and Lolly have a...history, but, it's ok. I can deal with it if you can." I told him. Randy looked insistent. "No Emma, it's not what you think. Lolly's crazy! And we do have an automobile...it's in the garage. It's red and has California plates on it." "Really? That's funny." "No, come on." Randy grabbed my arm and pulled me to the garage. There was my LandRover, and two dead bodies. At first, the relief at seeing the LandRover again was the only thing I thought of. I really loved that car, and I'd felt pretty guilty about getting it stolen, even if I had originally stolen it myself, but I stole it from my own family so it was okay, but now it was back in the family again and I was so happy to see it and...fuck, were those dead bodies? I'd never actually seen a real dead body. Seeing two (with the obvious murder weapon beside them, displayed so gruesomly), was pretty intense. I felt sick. I also realized that Lolly was evil and that we had to get the hell out of there before anything bad happened to us. "Randy, we have to get out of here!" I cried. Suddenly, the door to the garage was kicked open. Lolly stood in the open doorway, brandishing a gun. "I don't think you're going anywhere." she said, waving the gun for emphasis. I might have whimpered. It wasn't really the gun so much that did it for me as the look in Lolly's eyes. Emma cleared her throat. "Look, Lolly, you know you're not going to..." Lolly hit her hard across the jaw with the butt of the gun. "Fucking commie. Little did you know my Randy Superspy was only sleeping with you to learn of your subversive plots." Emma laughed and looked at me. I coughed and turned to Lolly. "That I was, darling. And now that I know of her base- we can terminate her!" Emma yelped and crawled back. "What? You're both fucking crazy!" I lunged at her, grabbing a hammer off the wall. "Quiet, you stupid bitch! You want me to kill her, Lolly?" I put my arm around Lolly. "Or would you like the honors?" Emma started to cry. Lolly grinned stupidely and advanced on Emma. She cocked the gun and took aim at her head. I brought the hammer down, hard, on Lolly's elbow. Her arm jerked to the right and she fired, blasting through an oil can. It sprayed out and began to pool in the corner. Lolly turned around to face me, whereupon Emma kicked her hard in the back, sending Lolly flying face first into the oil. Emma and I both ran for the car. She jammed the keys in the ignition as I slammed my door shut. Lolly was having a lot of difficulty getting herself out of the slippery oil. She'd get up and fall back down again. Finally, she grabbed the nearby crowbar and began swinging it about wildly. It landed in a large metal buzzsaw. In her effort to get up, she jabbed the saw's power button. It started sending off sparks- most of which were landing very near the oil. I started screaming "go go go go go!" Emma finally got the car started and slammed on the gas. We rocketed out of the garage just as it went up in a fireball behind us. "Whew, hot enough for you?" Randy wiped his brow and looked over at me. I was still shaking all over. My opinion of Randy was skating a thin line between thinking he was the greatest person in the entire world to thinking he was a complete and total psychopath. I kind of laughed at his comment, then drove on in silence. I was going about eighty on a residential street, but it was late at night, and I was too terrified to slow down. "And really, Emma, you were so great. I didn't know you could act that well! Those fake tears were a brilliant touch! Thank you!" Randy chortled. He was certaintly in high spirits. I felt like I was going to wet myself. "Yeah. Fake." I replied, trying to hold back some more 'fake' tears. What had happened? Randy had lost his mind. "Oh man it's good that Lolly is off our trail now. Sorry I didn't tell you about that earlier, but, you know, she was dumber than a box of rocks. I didn't actually think she'd find us." Suddenly, things seemed very clear. "So you knew?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Randy shrugged. "Lolly can be pretty unstable at times. I knew she had a gun. She hated you, you know. God she was nuts." My world crumbled before my eyes, and I slowly pulled over to the side of the road. "Randy, get out. Now." I said coldly. "Emma, what's wrong? Are we stopping for gas?" Emma glared at me in silence. It wasn't a 'thinking things out' sort of silence, more like a 'keeping back from the verge of hysteria'. I gulped loudly. "Emma, what's wrong? What's bothering me?" She blinked away tears. There goes that whole 'verging' thing. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Jesus Christ, Randy! I'll tell you what's wrong! We're here, trying to cross the countries with people we don't really know, and one of them neglects to tell the other that a certifiable armed psycho is tracking them over international borders!" I gulped. I was just basically buying time. "Emma. I didn't know Lolly would follow us. I needed her help to find you after you freaked out and ran back at the result." I looked at her meanly, but then realized this wasn't the time to try making her guilty. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you more about her. I guess I was just...embarassed. I spend all my time with you, Emma, trying my best to live past my backcountry upbringing. And so..I'm embarassed if it comes around. I do my best to avoid it. I'm sorry it even has to come up at all. I won't hide anything back from me because you deserve the exact same respect you've shown me. And I blew it and I'm sorry." Another gulp and another hard structinization. Emma started to open her mouth. What a great great great guy. All my previous boyfriends, they didn't really care about me. I know, I know, it's the oldest cliche in the book. But it's all very true. They either cared about getting into my pants or the fact that I was ok for them to date, since I was in their tax bracket and all. Not to say that Randy and I were, you know, an item. As far as I could tell we weren't. But were we? Or not? What the hell did that even mean, anyway? 'Respect' is one of those tricky words that can mean a lot of things. It's also one of those weasely words that doesn't even really mean anything. What was he saying? Grrr. In the meantime, Randy was waiting for a reply. I didn't really know what to say. "Randy, of course you didn't blow it. I'm sorry I got all hyperemotional, it's just that I don't get a gun pulled on me very often." "It's fine." I started the car again and we went on into the night. I stepped down hard and my combat boot went right through the mossy lithiosphere. I blinked as the canopy of Hill 471 was replaced by a cathedral ceiling of moss. The whole I'd fallen through reformed itself. I was enveloped in darkness. I groped through my gear and found my Maglite. Switching it on, I had a good look around. My ack-ack was up and mounted within seconds. The room was low now- low ceiling, close floor. Built for people of a very different height bracket than myself. My doughboy helmet scrapped the ceiling in places. It looked like a shrine. There were candles in concentric circles all around me. It looked like I'd fallen myself into dinner. Luckily, the white rabbit was late as always, and the main course (myself) would have to wait for some other day. I chose a tunnel at random and got down on my hands and knees. Three feet in I recalled one of those important lessons they teach you back at Saigon- Charlie don't surf; he digs tunnels. I flipped off the Maglite. Progress was slow. I didn't know which was up and which was down. The best I could go on was heat. I figured the deep you got, the colder it became. Slow going it was, and like a child's game. But it was the best I had. Thirty minutes later, I was making my way towards the mother of heat sources, only to bump smack into it. I fumbled for my light and flipped it on in Lolly's face. She was dressed up in full North Vietnemese combat gear and had a knife in her teeth. She lunged at me. I jumped back, and unholstered my Luger. I retreated back the tunnel I'd come up, taking potshots at the walls, praying against a cave-in. I had just thought I'd lost her when I came to a T in the tunnel. Waiting for me in another branch was none other than Viet-Lolly. I shrieked and darted down the clear tunnel, blasting wildly behind me. I managed to shoot my own foot clear through. I moved like a worm, oscillating my rear and body, while attempting to torniquet the leg off entirely. I had just cut off the femoral artery when I fell backwards into the chamber. It was some sort of atrium. There were tunnels everywhere, at every angle. And, it seemed, every one came with it's own Viet-Lolly. There were everywhere. And armed with plenty of knives. I dodged and feinted and bayoneted a couple. I wasn't getting anywhere though. It was ironic my only wound was still self-inflicted, but at the rate I was going, it wouldn't stay that way for long. It was then that I saw it- a single oaken door in the middle of the chamber. I was out of options. I ran and pounded into the door with all my weight. It was quite rotten. I ended up pounding through the door into the room- and falling. It was a pit. A trick. There were skulls lining the walls everywhere, in various states of decay. I grabbed for one as I fell. I found Emma's head in my hands. I hit the ground and woke up. We were pulling into a hotel just off the Interstate. The next morning I woke up bright and early and decided to see where we were.
The night before had kind of passed in a blur--the panic after Lolly's timely demise, then the emotional rollercoaster that hit when I thought all those things about Randy. I'd gotten on the nearest freeway and just driven until four in the morning. Randy had fallen asleep, and I just drove and hummed to myself and thought about the strange turn my life had taken as of late.
I woke up at the crucial time when, had I slept any more, I would have been tired the entire day. I had slept just enough to get my body clock reset--I'd slept so little that I wasn't tired anymore.
I went down to the lobby of the motel to try and make a game plan for the next few days. It couldn't hurt to lie low, especially since Randy and I were both pretty drained. The desk clerk was a ancient wrinkled woman who was reading a romance novel, Shipwrecked!. She looked up when I approached.
"Hello deary. What can I do for you this morning?" She asked. I inwardly shuddered. I hated it when people called me 'deary.'
"Yes, hello. I just got in last night, and I was wondering what kind of recreation there is around the hotel."
The woman looked at me closely. "Oh yeah, I remember! You came in with that fella. You guys hitched or what?" she asked curiously.
"Well, actually we're newlyweds." I told her, feeling it was in my best interests to appear as old as possible.
"Newlyweds! Now isn't that something? What are you doing here? You spending your honeymoon in this dump?" She punctuated this with a horrifying cackle. I began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Why wasn't there anyone else in the lobby?
"Well, see, we were going to go to this lodge, but then when we got there we found that they had booked our spot by accident and couldn't accomodate us at all. We're thinking of filing a lawsuit because of it. So then when we left there we had no clear destination in mind, and we were quite angry because they were immensely rude to us, and so we drove with the intention of reaching another lodge, but we were too tired to continue last night." I explained in a rush. I wanted out of there. I was sort of hoping she would take pity on us and give us the room free.
Throughout my story the woman's attention had become drawn to my hand, which had been making me very nervous without knowing why. Suddenly, she gave me the answer. "So hon, if you're married, where's your ring?"
I thought fast. "Well, I had this beautiful diamond ring that was the shining star of my life, diamonds are a girl's best friend, you know. But then as we were coming out of the lodge this little girl came up to us. She was dressed in rags and she held out her hands and just said 'please. i'm starving.' So what was I to do? I didn't have any cash on me, and the girl looked like she was about to die without food. So I took off my ring and gave it to her. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."
The woman looked shocked. "What a nice thing to do! I wouldn'ta done that if you paid me. But run on up to your room, dear, and I'll send up a complimentary breakfast for you poor kids." A breakfast was better than nothing. I thanked her and went up to the room, still not knowing where we were.
Ten minutes later Randy had somewhat risen (he was still pretty out of it) and there was a knock on the door. I opened it to the woman, holding a breakfast tray. She had a huge smile on her crinkled face. "Do I have news for you! I called the Lizard Lodge, about fifty miles from here. They're the nicest lodge around--the rich and famous go there to get away! Was that where you were heading?"
"Uh, yeah." I said quickly before Randy could get a word in edgewise.
"Well, I told them about your situation, and guess what? They've agreed to put you up for a week--free everything! They think that it was so selfless of you to give your wedding ring to a starving orphan that they want to make it up to you. They say to come immediately!"
"Well, thank you." I replied, dazed. A week in an extremely expensive lodge with everything free? I didn't know I was that good of a liar!
Dog Creek, British Columbia. Population: spare change and ourselves. And one posh Lizard Lodge.
When the old bat left and Emma explained the situation, I was suitably impressed with her manuevering. I was just a little worried about the Lizard Lodge, seeing as it broke all three rules of real estate- location, location, location. But as we pulled into the Lodge, I was suitably impressed. Pallisades, gazebos and a bunch of other architecture I could only name drop. Checking into our room was like buying a new house. I guess the socially respectible manager recently had an unpleasant end to her third almost-marriage; her third fiance in two years died under mysterious circumstances. Thus, we get the free stay. Emotional hardship, understanding, sympathy, all that rot.
We'd have free ground. We could lounge by the natural hotsprings. We could get a drink (free tab!) at the Lizard Bar. We could go riding the trails or go fly a glider. We could even just stay in all day and order things out the minibar. We could do whatever we wanted...
if only that idiot on the tennis court would shut up. How did he know Emma's name?
"UNTITLED" WILL CONTINUE AFTER THESE MESSAGES Oh jesus.
Thomas Winslow III was standing on the tennis court, waving his racket around and looking like a general idiot. He was wearing an immaculate white tennis ensemble, and looked like he'd just stepped out of the pages of Polo Monthly or some equally pretentious magazine. I was not particularly pleased to see him.
"Emma! Emma! My god, what a coincidence? How are you?" He asked as he came running over to Randy and me. I wasn't sure if Randy had even registered on his radar.
"Um, I'm fine Thomas. How about you?" I asked, extremely agitated. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Randy looking very confused and slightly miffed.
"Excellent, Emma. Do you come up to the Lizard Lodge often? My family and I find that it's a good place to come to escape our legacy and to relax, be common-folk for a while. Wouldn't you agree?" Yes, that was how he really talked. I knew Randy was laughing, and felt my face turning red.
"No, this is our first romp in the delightful world of expensive lodges." I told Thomas. You had to speak in his vernacular or he couldn't understand you.
Thomas still didn't acknowledge Randy's existance. "Well, that is most excellent. I'm sure you will find your stay a lovely one. Would you like to have dinner with me this evening? I have ever so much to tell you about. I can't explain how I've missed you, my dear Emma." Thomas looked at me earnestly. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"May I introduce my husband, Randy Ketchum?" I asked, making a spur-of-the-moment decision. Thomas looked shocked.
"Husband? Oh Emma, you were always so delightfully witty. Who is this? Your manservant?" Oh god. Thomas couldn't have been that bad when we were dating, could he?
Randy decided to join the conversation. "No, actually buddy, I'm her husband. A little respect where respect is due, please." He said in a thick hickish accent. Thomas looked extremely taken aback.
"Why Emma, what got into you? I always thought that we...well, you must know that my parents intended me to marry you. In many years, of course, and properly." Thomas paused, suddenly looking suspicious. "Emma, aren't you supposed to be vacationing in a quaint resort on the Oregon coast? What are you doing in Canada?"
Let's start from the ground up, shall we? Seems a logical place to me.
I once read a book where the lead character made an assertion that you could always gauge the sexual orientation of a man by the quality of his shoes. Based on that hypothesis, there didn't seem to be any logical reason for him to be over here, hitting on Emma. I swear to God- his shoes were worth more than the Gross National Product of Uruguay. Diamonds on the soles of his shoes, indeed!
Next we come to his pants. Not much to say here- nicely folded, nicely ironed, nicely buttoned. Judging from the unmistakable bulge, nicely built as well. Points continued to rack up under the "gay" column. I could feel the tension melting from my palms.
Chest. Tension back. I do believe his polo shirt was signed by Ralph Lauren himself. No slave labor for our young friend here, oh my no- it was all CEO labor! I scanned for any more points to assure myself of his non-combatant nature, but all indications were there- this guy was looking to sow his seed, if you know what I mean. Toned muscles. Perfect tan. Grace and control of his motions. This man wasn't gay- he was just rich.
Rich like I could never imagine- even his neck deserved its own paragraph! He wasn't wearing any jewelery, he was just- sculpted. His Adam's apple was just so perfect, so balanced, it was as if the silver spoon hadn't just been inserted, rather it'd been crammed down his throat to a delicate, pre-planned, resting place. On the other hand, its vast expanse made for excellent rining potential.
Finally, we make our way to his head. I can't speak for what's inside, but I can say- the son of a bitch is handsome. And knows it. His perfect part, his diminishing dimple (its purpose served)- it was all in line, all right there. I wondered if he'd already had his plastic surgery. They start with them early these days.
I sighed. All good reasons to push him in the pool. Or at least that's how I'd rationalize it later. I hope tweed floats. I couldn't help but laugh as Thomas tumbled into the pool. He looked so ridiculous down there, sopping wet, spluttering because he couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Excuse me, but I'll have you know that this is a very expensive ensemble, completely ruined, and I fully expect you to pay for it." Thomas said angrily, trying to swim over to the ladder but was hampered by his clothing.
Randy just snorted, as did I. "Thomas, you have like seven copies of that exact outfit. Grow up." I told him, linked my arm with Randy's, and walked into the Lodge lobby, leaving Thomas in the pool.
Now, we thought about leaving, but realized that we had a free week at an expensive lodge and we sure weren't going to let snooty Thomas get in the way of our good time. I worried slightly about him notifying my parents, but then decided that Thomas decidedly lacked the initiative. And if he did...Randy and I would just run like hell.
The Lizard Lodge was fantastic, really it was. It was fancy and nice and our room was about the greatest thing I had ever been in. There was a two-person bathtub with jets. The most embarrassing thing, as we later found out, was that we had been put in the Honeymoon suite. It was even thoughtfully equipped with condoms in the bedside tables. Not exactly the best place to stick two teenagers, especially since i had NO FUCKING IDEA what Randy's feelings towards me were.
Really, I didn't. It could be anything. Sometimes I was convinced that he was in love with me, like, there could be no other alternative. But sometimes I was also convinced that he couldn't stand me and was regretting ever coming. Most of the time I thought that he wanted to be friends, but hopefully more some day. I was hopelessly confused.
The Lizard Lodge was alright, I guess. One of the banes of working at the resort back home is you get to noticing things you really shouldn't care about. Mismatched towels. Unpolished handles. Things like that! it's enough to drive a body insane.
Adding Thomas P. Malthus Haltus Miranda Oppenheimer the Third into the mix wasn't really what I needed either. It's kind of hard to enjoy a complimentary horse racing area when it necessitates a complimentary Rich Sniveling Idiot to go along with it. You'd think our dear Thomas would have gotten the picture earlier, but I'll give it to the boy- he was persistent. All day long with "my tax forms did this" and "my father owns this"- it was a wonder he didn't have a biotic tongue. He didn't seem particularly pleased when I asked him about the nature of his oral parts, though. I figured if he did have a six million-dollar tongue, he wouldn't mind talking about it.
Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe I'm being overly critical. It's just- I was starting to get disgruntled. In a big way. I didn't know what Emma wanted anymore, and I was getting way too tired to guess. I seriously considered having a mano-a-mano talk with Thomas, for crissakes. This was going to have to come to some kind of a head and soon, or else we'd just...boil off.
Our stay at Lizard Lodge, however, came to abrupt end one afternoon on the veranda, when Thomas came to us with some interesting news. Damn that Thomas. Damn him straight to hell.
Randy and I were sitting on the veranda, minding our own business and enjoying the luxury of our free lodge stay, when Thomas walked up with a smirk on his face. I wasn't happy to see him. I'd been trying to convince Randy to lie low with me, pretend we'd left...but it wasn't too successful. I'd quickly found that sitting in a room by yourself, no matter how nice, gets boring after a while.
It had taken him a while to find us, but he had, and he was definitely pleased with himself. "Hello Emma, Randy." he said, still with that awful smirk on his face.
"Thomas." I replied, not pleased to see him in the least.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the young married couple. Doing young married things, no less. How interesting that is...seeing as they're not married!" Thomas laughed maniacally.
My mind was racing. I had no idea how he had found out about us--but we were in some deep trouble if he decided to leak the news. What were Randy and I to do?
