She's the Boss (26 page)

Nonetheless, we tried to maintain a level of detachment and kept things strictly professional at the office. Outside of the office, it was a slightly different story. We took advantage of the little private moments we could find and it was during those moments that Carter was warm and friendly, flirty even. The change in Carter’s personality had me totally unnerved. And I came to realize that he was a mass of contradictions, stern and uptight, but also tender and a lot more laid back than he let anyone see.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. A mosquito buzzed about, jolting me out of my reverie.

SMACK! I swatted it with my open palm and watched the blood splatter on my arm. “Hah! Take that you Monsanto mosquito!”

Last week, Malaysian officials had released thousands of genetically modified mosquitoes into the wild in an attempt to curb the spread of dengue fever. These ‘Frankensuckers’ were sterile male Aedes mosquitoes. Since only female Aedes mosquitoes spread dengue fever, the hope was that when these female mosquitoes mated with the impotent males, they wouldn’t produce any viable offspring, thereby curtailing the entire mosquito population.

To me, it sounded like the beginning of a sci-fi horror story. Once the genie was out of the bottle, it wasn’t going back in.

Humph. How symbolic. Once Carter and I had crossed that line, there was no going back either.

Eventually, I rolled out of bed and surveyed my packing with a dismal air. In a way I was grateful I was leaving in just three days. Leaving this humidity, leaving these mutant mosquitoes, leaving memories of Carter . . .

Carter again!

He seemed to be able to slip effortlessly into my head.

I needed some physical distance from him. Back in the States, we wouldn’t be living in such close quarters. Here, his room was eight doors down the corridor from mine. Not a good thing.

I dragged my thoughts from all things Carter and padded to the window. I threw back the curtains and stared out at the ocean, watching the white ripple rising and disappearing into the even surface of the water. A child sat playing with sea shells on the sandy beach that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles.

Suddenly, my iPhone beeped and I fished it out of my back pocket. It was a text from Truong.

Did you just butt dial me?

I texted back:

Maybe . . .

Seconds later, my phone beeped with another text.

I’m on the beach with Inge. Come join us.

I texted back:

You are? I’m staring out my window.

Truong texted back:

Are you way hung us?

I texted:

How can I be way hung when I don’t even have a ding dong?

Truong texted back:

Oops! My bad! My phone keeps auto-correcting watching to way hung.

I texted back:

LOL. That’s probably ’cause you’re always asking men if they’re way hung.

Truong texted back:

True. Anyway, come down to the beach. Now.

I texted:

I’ll be there in twenty.

Truong texted:

Oh, and invite your boyfriend!

I texted back:

I don’t have a boyfriend.

He texted:

Just do it. I’d like to know if Carter is way hung.

I twisted my lips. I knew I shouldn’t. I wanted to,
needed
to keep an emotional distance from Carter. Still, I found myself thumbing in a text:

Me, Truong and Inge will by laying on the beach. Care to join us?

Seconds later, my iPhone beeped. Carter had texted back:

Public promiscuity is not really my thing.

I texted back:

Huh???

Carter texted back:

You spend your time lying, not laying, on the beach. Unless you’re engaged in sexual activity and are, in the vernacular, laying someone on the beach.

Before I could form a quick comeback, my iPhone beeped once more. I read Carter’s text.

If you see something lying on the ground, it is just resting there. But if you see something laying on the ground, it must be doing something else, such as laying eggs. Chickens lay, people lie. Unless you’re a chicken. Chickens do lay eggs.

I pressed my iPhone against my forehead in silent reprimand, realizing the flirtatious implication of my words. Upon gathering myself, I texted back:

Of course I know chickens lay eggs. And no, I do not wish to be laid by you. I’d rather be stuck on an island with Glen Beck.
And since when have you become the Grammar Police?

My phone beeped.

Since you proposed to have sex on the beach with me. Here’s another example of the correct use of the word lay: Y
ou have to lie down for me to lay you.

I was slightly shocked by Carter’s flirtation with impropriety. Though I knew perfectly well that I should keep things professional, I was perfectly incapable of such self-discipline. Humph. He thought he was
so
clever. Well I’d show him. I texted back:

You can be on top ’cause I don’t wanna get sunburnt.

For a while, there were no texts from Carter.

Shit! Did he think I was actually serious?

Just in case he was harboring any delusions along those lines, I swiftly thumbed in another text:

JUST JOKING! I DO NOT WISH TO LIE WITH YOU OR GET LAID BY YOU. PERIOD.

Carter texted back:

See you at the beach.

Smiling, I texted:

K.

As I was tugging on my bathing suit, mosquitoes continued swarming around me. I slapped my arm, slaughtering two Frankenbugs in the process. Then I stood in front of the full length mirror, scrutinizing my buttressed thighs.

Tsh-tsh, Kars. It’s time you did some Brazilian Butt Lift exercises.

Wait a minute! I froze. What are those massive bumps protruding from my forehead? Craning forward, I angled my face under the light to get a better view.

Mosquito bites, I surmised. Hmm. They must have feasted on me all night.

“Holy Guacamole!” I muttered under my breath as I continued examining my face in the mirror. Those mosquito bites looked like pimples the size of Guatemala!

I whipped out my iPhone and texted Truong:

Please don’t make fun of me. I look like I have three enormous nipples!!

I went pale with shock when Carter texted back:

Don’t worry about your third nipple. I say milk it for all it’s worth.

After taking several long, deep breaths, I gathered my wits and texted back:

FYI, that text was meant for Truong. Not you. And my iPhone auto-corrected pimple to nipple. I HATE THIS AUTO-CORRECT FUNCTION! Anyway, I’ll be at the beach with Truong and Inge. See you there. Or not. I don’t care.

I kicked off my flip flops, clutched my sarong and walked down the beach, my bare feet prickling under the sun-warmed sand.

Suddenly, I heard someone yell, “HEY ACNE!”

Shielding my eyes against the pallid glare of the sun, I spotted Truong and Inge, sun-bathing in the nude. I made my way over to the nudists and dumped my towel and beach bag at my feet. “And by the way Truong, it’s not acne! It’s mosquito bites!”

The acid annoyance in my voice was completely lost on Truong. “They look like acne to me,” he said, brushing me off as though I was some pesky mosquito.

I pinned my hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Nude, Truong? Really?”

“What?” he said mildly, “I’m just communing with Mother Nature. And besides, I’m not fully nude.”

True. Truong had a straw hat covering his meat puppet.

I arranged myself on my oversized beach towel. “You too, Inge? Topless?”

“Men are allowed to go topless, why not women?” She lifted her dark sunglasses and perched them atop her head. “Anyway, it’s pretty common in Europe. Why don’t you try it?”

“Me?” My eyes widened. “Nah! I just don’t feel comfortable.”

“You’re not comfortable in your own skin?”

I squirted out a glob of sunblock. “I’m comfortable with who I am, but I’m not really comfortable exposing my body.”

“Look!” Truong began gesturing wildly. “HUBBA! HUBBA!”

Following the direction of his dazzled gaze, I spotted Carter walking along the shore, clad in nothing but a mankini. They were black, snug and quite exquisite.

HUBBA, HUBBA indeed.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Truong’s straw hat was lifting higher and higher. He turned a deep shade of amber and placed a hand over his hat in a weak attempt to still his throbbing gristle. “A gentleman always lifts his hat,” he said blithely.

I shook my head and slathered sun block all over my arms. “Hey, Inge, don’t you want to cover up your Topless Towers of Illium?”

“Not really,” she replied with palpable lack of interest. “Why don’t you shoo Carter away? I’d like to sunbathe topless without him hovering by my side.”

“Yeah,” Truong chimed in. “Go shoo him away.”

“Shoo Carter away?” My voice pitched higher. “What do you think he is? A fly? And what do you think I look like? A Shoo Fly?”

“Well . . .” Truong hedged.

Humph. I frowned to myself. That was a bit rich coming from someone with a straw hat on his peen. I was half expecting his peen to spring to life, doing its best impression of Ricky Ricardo.

“Kars,” said Truong dryly.

“What?”

“Go!” he ordered severely. “At whatever cost, keep Carter away from us.”

“All right, all right. I’m going.” I rose to my feet, grumbling, “I can clearly see I’m not wanted here.”

I padded down to the beach, leaving the nudist colony behind.

Carter was walking close to the water’s edge. He looked weary, almost sad, like he had the fate of the whole world resting on his shoulders.

I lengthened my stride and fell into step beside him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His face relaxed into a smile and he tactfully avoided staring at the massive red bumps decorating my forehead.

We stopped walking and stood facing the vast and open ocean in companionable silence, letting the sea foam surge across our toes. For a while, we watched the tiny, frothy bubbles pocket and curdle under our feet.

Eventually, I broke the silence. “You seem preoccupied. Care to share what’s on your mind?”

“No.” His voice caught in a husky rasp.

“Aw, c’mon.” I shoved him playfully on the arm. “What gives? You seemed OK when you were texting me just minutes ago.”

“That was before I got the call.”

“What call?”

Carter stared rigidly ahead with a faraway look in his eyes.

I lifted my head to the breeze and tried to look semi-attractive, which was almost impossible. The wind was blowing and my hair was flying all over the place. “I’ve hardly seen you at work all week,” I said, pulling chunks of errant hair out of my mouth. “Where have you been?”

“Meetings,” said Carter absently. “Conference calls. Negotiating the new contract.”

“Huh?” I stared at him opened mouthed, wondering if I’d heard right. “What new contract?” I asked with a twinge of alarm.

There was an excruciating pause, a silence bordering on awkward. I looked at him sideways in an effort to gauge exactly what was on his mind but his face betrayed no emotion.