Working Vacation Pt. 01

"Glad to hear it," said Tyler. "There are rules against that kind of thing."

"Hiring women?"

"No," Tyler laughed, realizing what he'd said. "I didn't mean that. I meant, if you worked for the company, and I got promoted...let's just say, Robert's pretty strict about that shit."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning—I couldn't buy you a drink sometime, just casual...?"

"We just met."

"So let's meet."

"I'm from out of town."

"Me too," he smiled. "We already have a lot in common. What town are you from?"

"Ha! You'll just say you live there too—" Tyler straightened his shoulders, ready to strongly deny the accusation. Rebecca didn't let him interrupt. "—Or that you're always there on business."

"How will we know unless you tell me?" he retorted. "If I am, does that mean I can get you that drink?"

"No need," interrupted a third voice, a deep, commanding baritone. "I have one right here."

"Sir!" Tyler squirmed. "I didn't see you there."

"Your section's being seated now, if you want to head in there," said the man. Tyler squeaked a quick, professional good-bye to Rebecca and hurried off.

The man turned to Rebecca and smiled. "You're not with him?" he asked. Rebecca shook her head. "I'm not sure we've met."

"No, sir," she replied. "We've never met. I—I'm just somebody's date. Rebecca. But I've heard so much about you, Mister—"

He stopped her with a wave of his hand, and smiled. "Robert, please," he said. "Call me Robert."

Words were failing her. She knew who he was: this was Greg's boss's boss. She'd seen his profile picture on the company website, so she recognized him—mid-fifties, silver hair, square-set jaw—but his picture didn't do him justice. His silver hair, fashionably cropped on the sides, was streaked with lines of rich gold. He'd been a blond, and from his shoulders there was no doubt he'd been an athlete. His eyes were warm hazel, already sparkling at her like someone she knew.

His suit was flawless, with a stunning bright green tie. She'd seen how Greg fussed over getting his suit perfect, but Robert wore his with total nonchalance. He looked as comfortable as if he was bare-chested, barefoot, wearing dungarees on a catamaran somewhere in the Caribbean.

"Robert," she said. "Nice to meet you."

Robert offered her the cocktail he had in his other hand. "You know your gin," he said. "I'm impressed. This is better than my usual stuff."

"How did you...?"

"I asked the bartender what you were having. She remembered you." Robert clinked glasses with her. "It seems you tip. I like that. Not everyone does at an open bar. You and your date—?"

"Greg."

"—you should join me at my table."

"Oh, no, we can just sit—" She bit her lip. He was looking straight through her. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. All these boys are kissing my ass for a job. What they don't know yet is how much they don't want it. Yours no different. For him, it'll be a chance to show off. For me, well, having you at the table would finally give me someone I can talk to. Let's go. Bring your boy and I'll introduce you to Karen—uh, my wife."

He laughed, almost embarrassed, a fox who forgot he was in the henhouse.

* * *

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," said Greg. "You were amazing."

Rebecca set her clutch on the bureau and pulled off her black pumps. "Was I? I hope so. I really hope I didn't embarrass you."

"What? No way!" Greg laughed, yanking his tie apart. "Who would have guessed a guy like him would be interested in art, of all things? How did you know that stuff?"

"I just kind of pick it up at work," Rebecca said. "Coffee shops are pretty...'eclectic.'"

"I was so glad you hit it off with those two. I do not think his wife likes me."

"I don't think she likes anyone," Rebecca said, nonchalantly. "Definitely not me. Anyway it's not like you have to like someone to get along over dinner. She was toasted and cheerful at the end, and that's enough. Robert was probably testing you."

"'Robert'...?" Greg teased. "I don't think we're quite on first name terms with guys like that. Anyway, do you want the bathroom first? I'm bushed and I've got that golf thing with Chuck and 'Robert' tomorrow."

Rebecca was standing barefoot by the bed, rummaging through her suitcase. "Actually," she said, "some people were talking about going to the pool. It's got a bar and it's open late." She pulled a black one-piece swimsuit out of the suitcase. "Want to come?"

Greg hummed. On the one hand, even more time with work people, and it would be a late night before an early morning. On the other hand, hanging out in a pool and a chance to see his ex-girlfriend's hot but prudish friend getting tipsy in a swimsuit....

"Say yes! It'll be fun," she prodded. She turned her back to him. "Unzip me."

* * *

The pool was crowded only just enough to be anonymous but relaxing. The bartender, a Latina in a white blouse and black vest and slacks, was chatting happily with people in swimsuits and making rounds of the tables and deck chairs.

The main source of light was the pool itself, glowing bright robin's egg blue from lights underwater, but candles flickered on every table and string lights twinkled among the ferns and tall palms around the periphery. Sophisticated, romantic music from a jazz trio piped softly from hidden speakers. The murmur of a dozen conversations filled the air.

Greg and Rebecca were having mojitos in the pool. They floated in the shallows with their drinks in plastic cups, chatting idly and people-watching. Greg was trying not to be too conscious of the random movement of the water over Rebecca's cleavage, lapping at her breasts.

Chuck was across the pool, wearing nothing but some bright red swim trunks. He was sitting with his feet in the water, plishing water happily and telling jokes to a small clique of office hangers-on. Given how much he must've had to drink, Greg and Rebecca were amazed at how lucid he seemed.

"I think somebody's ready to break the rule about office affairs," said Rebecca.

"Nah," chided Greg. "Chuck gets pretty friendly but I don't think he'd ever—"

"No, look over there," she said. She waved her glass discreetly in the direction of the bar.

"That's Olivia," said Greg. "She works in my office. Is she talking to...oh damn, she's talking to Tyler! He's one of the other candidates."

"Yeah," smiled Rebecca. "I ran into him at the reception. He's definitely single."

"She's not," Greg fumed. "What a jerk. He shouldn't be talking to her."

"They're just talking. And I don't think she minds."

At the bar, Olivia brushed her long, black hair over her ear. Tyler was telling her some kind of anecdote about a dog in water, miming doggy paddle movements and making faces. Whatever it was, Olivia laughed, leaned forward and touched his shoulder.

"There it is," said Rebecca. "You sure she's got a boyfriend?"

"Fiancé," Greg muttered. "How does Tyler do it? He's such a pain in the ass at work."

"Look at him," said Rebecca. "He kind of looked like a scarecrow in that suit before, but he is cut. Look at those abs."

"He's an ass."

"He's a smooth talker." She looked over at Greg holding his tongue and looking into his drink. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine," said Greg. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. "It's none of my business."

"Can I still be your pretend girlfriend?"

At that, a sheepish smile broke out on Greg's face. He looked over at Tyler again. A scrappy-looking shorter man with pretty built pecs strode over to Olivia and put his arm around her. He scowled at Tyler. "Hey look," said Greg. "Trouble in paradise."

Tyler oozed backward, out of the conversation. The man and Olivia turned toward each other and started bickering. Greg chortled as Tyler took halting steps away, looking around the pool for a place to go.

"Ha! Serves him right," said Greg.

Tyler's eyes finally landed on Greg and Rebecca. Rebecca laughed and waved at him. He waved back and smiled. Then Rebecca pointed at Olivia bickering with her fiancé and gave Tyler a thumb's up.

Tyler slid into the pool and waded over.

"You saw that, huh?"

"Hard not to," said Rebecca.

"Hey Greg, how's it hanging?"

"Just fine, Tyler." Greg paused, got a pained look on his face, and said, "This is Rebecca."

"Yeah, we met," said Tyler. "Just before dinner we were talking about how much we love to travel."

"Were we?" Rebecca asked drily.

"Something like that," said Tyler. "I know I always have a great time coming out to your turf, Greg my man." He took a swig from his beer, and nonchalantly added, "And I'll love it even more once I land this gig."

"We'll see."

"Hey, all in good fun," said Tyler. He lifted his bottle to toast. "One way or the other, I want us on the same team—no matter if I land it or not. You know, whatever happens."

Greg clinked his cup with Tyler. "Yeah, fair enough."

"Whatever happens, happens," Tyler repeated, and tapped glasses with Rebecca.

Tyler swam over to sit, uninvited, on the other side of Rebecca from Greg. Then he said, "How bad we going to lose to Chuck tomorrow, eh, Greg?" He tilted his head in the fat man's direction. "The way he's partying we might have our work cut out for us."

Rebecca saw an emotion she couldn't read flicker in Greg's eyes. She interrupted. "I think I could use another mojito..."

"Ah, let me," said Tyler. "Mojito? Just one? Greg, you?"

"I'm—uh, I'm fine," said Greg.

Tyler swam off just as quickly as he came, and flagged down the bartender as far from Olivia as he could.

"Let's get out of here," Greg whispered.

"Greg!" said Rebecca. "Come on, he just went to get me a drink."

"Who cares? Let him drink it. I want to get up early."

"Well, if you want to, that's fine, but I think—" Rebecca sighed.

"Thanks," said Greg.

Tyler came back with two bottles of beer and a mojito. He passed off the mojito to Rebecca, then turned to push a beer into Greg's hand. "I forgot what you were drinking, buddy, just try this one. It's great."

"Thanks, Tyler, but I'm going to get to bed." Greg set his nearly-empty cup on the deck and hoisted himself out of the pool, abandoning the conversation. "Long day, you know."

Tyler looked legitimately hurt, wading in the water with two bottles. He turned to Rebecca. "So you guys both...?"

Rebecca turned from Tyler to Greg and shook her head. I tried to tell you, she gestured, helplessly. Then she looked back at Tyler and lifted her full drink in the air. "Of course not...I'll stay to finish this at least."

Tyler beamed.

Greg was already standing when he realized he'd made a mistake. He looked back and forth between Tyler and Rebecca, and stammered, "Well, uh, I'll just get back to the room, then. Oh, but, Rebecca, you didn't bring your key, did you?"

Rebecca nodded to a short table on the deck next to her. Her room key plainly lay there next to her phone. "I'll be fine," she said. "Besides, you'll be in the room, right?"

"Okay," said Greg. "Well, um, okay then." He walked off.

Tyler, for his part, didn't miss a beat. Even as he made himself comfortable, putting his arm up on the rail behind Rebecca, he asked, "So, how long have you and Greg been a thing? Must be pretty new."

"Uh, about a year."

"Can't have been a year. No way."

"Well, coming up on a year," Rebecca said. What is he talking about? What does he know?

"No, seriously, I thought he was..." Tyler stiffened and looked puzzled himself. "Anyway, you know better than I do. I must be wrong."

"Well, I mean, it depends," she vacillated. "We weren't really official for a while, and...uh, labels can be so arbitrary."

Tyler thought about that for a second, then he smiled and shrugged. He seemed to get a little closer in the water. "Forget about it," he chirped. "I hear you. No need to explain."

For a few minutes, Rebecca tried to engage him on work—what he liked about the company, what he thought of his bosses, his coworkers, and so on. He wouldn't bite. Any question she asked about him, he'd answer quickly and ask something about her.

At last, she gave up, forgot about Greg, and enjoyed the earnest attention Tyler was offering. The pool area had cleared out some in the twenty minutes since Greg left. Chuck had disappeared around then, and the bartender was cleaning up more tables than she was serving.

"Hey," whispered Tyler. The conversation had lapsed and they'd just been drinking quietly. Tyler had edged close enough that Rebecca could feel his trunks brushing against her thigh, and his arm very nearly cradling her head. "Hey, look over there. Not too bad."

Rebecca looked up at him and followed his gaze. Not far from where Chuck had been holding court, Olivia and her fiancé seemed to have made up. They were kissing, and neither of them had their hands above water.

"What d'ya think?" Tyler snickered. "Not too bad, right?"

"All's well that ends well," said Rebecca. "I just don't want to be in the pool when it happens."

"She's cute, though, right? Look at those curves. What do you think of the guy?"

Rebecca looked up at Tyler. "You want my opinion?"

"Sure."

"He's..." she paused. "He's sorta cute, I guess. I like his shoulders."

"You like broad shoulders?"

"Sure," she shrugged. Tyler twisted a little in the water, and she was suddenly aware that she could feel his body heat.

"You'd do him?"

Rebecca sank down and felt herself blush. "Probably not."

"Why not? He seems like a nice guy. A bit short, but whatever. What could he do to have a chance with you?"

"Well," said Rebecca, "for starters...he'd have to be single." She flicked a little water at Tyler.

"Hmm," mused Tyler. "So only single guys have a chance with you."

"And, ahh...he's being a little too—public for my taste."

Tyler gently let his arm curl around her shoulders. She could feel steel-cable muscle in his slim arms, and the leanness of his torso. His touch was, despite its obviousness, gentle. He leaned toward her. "I hear what you're saying."

"Tyler—um..." Rebecca took his hand and pulled it away from her shoulder, then swam out a little farther from him. "Tyler, I don't want you to think...look. You seem like a great guy, and I'm not saying I don't see that. But we just met each other. Maybe, some other circumstances, who knows, maybe you and I could get to know each other better. But right now...I'm with Greg. I'm here for him. Sorry. I hope you're not mad at me."

"No way. You say what you want and I respect that. You're a sweetie. I just hope I run into you again."

"Thanks. Not every guy would be as nice as you."

"Nice? I love Greg, he's a great guy, but I hope his career goes down in flames and his girlfriend dumps him. I am cuddly like a teddy bear, and tall like a fucking giraffe, but nice I am not."

Rebecca laughed. "Good night, Tyler."

* * *

It was only a little after eleven when Rebecca unlocked the door. The latch clacked and echoed in the vacant corridor. As she entered, she heard a rustle of sheets and immediately the bedside light clicked on.

"Greg?"

He was sitting up in bed with the sheets around him. She'd hoped he would at least wear a t-shirt to bed. "What's up...?"

"Nothing! I just, ah...hm."

"Did you go to bed already? Look, it's such a huge bed, I don't mind sharing, but—hey. Why is your suit on the floor? Go hang it up in the shower and then I'll go rinse off."

"I thought you were hanging out with Tyler...having a drink."

"No, once you left, he seemed to think...Greg, your suit?"

"Will you go hang it up?"

"No!" She turned and looked. Greg's swim suit was soaking into his towel on the floor. His khaki shorts were lying on top of his open carry-on suitcase. And a pair of plaid pajamas were draped over the foot of the bed. So Greg was wearing...?

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Greg, were you—?"

Greg closed his eyes and lowered his head. Rebecca was not sure she'd ever seen a face that red.

"I am so sorry, Greg. I'll get out of here. I'm going to go—" she started leaving, then stopped short. "—Wash off this chlorine. From the pool." She turned back and locked eyes with Greg, and pulled the string of her top loose.

"Hey! So you caught me, so what."

"Better hurry."

After showering long enough for Greg to take care of himself, Rebecca came back out in long flannel pajamas and an old tee shirt reading "Devil Rock State Park." Her shoulder length black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she'd traded her contacts for wire-frame horn rim glasses.

"Feel better?"

"...Yes." Greg bit his lip. "I'm really embarrassed about that. I didn't think you were going to come back tonight. I thought, you know, Tyler..." He couldn't even finish the sentence. He hated sounding so needy to a girl who wasn't even his girlfriend.

But Rebecca rolled her eyes and laughed. "Hey, I'm here with you, not him. He's an ass."

Greg hesitated. "I just figured, you know, we're not really together, and he's so confident and, uh, good-looking..."

"A good-looking ass, then. That came out wrong. Whatever. Who cares what he looks like? He's immature. Look, let's just go to sleep. Golfing tomorrow, right?"

"9 o'clock."

"You'll be great."

"If I can get a word in edgewise. Tyler likes to swoop in at the last minute and takes over the show. He's an idiot, but he can turn on the charm."

"Yeah, 'charm,'" said Becca. "I'd call it over-confident. What do you mean he swoops in at the last minute?"

"It's just this passive-aggressive thing he does. I said last-minute, I mean literally last-minute. He's never late, but he's always the last one in the room, always bullshitting about how busy he is. The head loves it, but Tyler's so full of shit it's unbelievable."

"Power play, huh?"

"I just wish there was a way to get rid of him. I can sell myself, but he just never shuts up."

Becca lay quietly for a second. Then, suddenly, she rolled over and smiled. "Forget about it. I know Tyler's a pain, but—well, just take my advice—get there super early in the morning."

"Why?"

"Trust me. You'll be great. And remember—I'm not really your girlfriend. Let's get some sleep. Don't think about trying anything."

"I promise, hands to myself."

She chuckled. "Hmm...that's exactly what I was afraid of."

Greg sighed. She could practically hear him blush. "Yeah, fair enough. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

The next morning, Rebecca woke Greg up early and reminded him to get to the golf course at least 20 minutes early. He went to breakfast alone, and came back to the room to get changed into golf clothes. It was a ten minute walk over to the golf course, and he was ready to leave by 8:30. He and Tyler were meeting Robert and Chuck at 9.

The shower was running in the bathroom. He knocked on the door to tell Rebecca he was leaving. A second later, she cracked the door open and poked her head out. Steam poured into the room. Black ringlets of hair dangled around her ears and cheeks.

"How was breakfast? How do you get there, anyway? Do you have that room map?"

"It was pretty good. Let me go find it." Greg flipped through the check-in packet and weekend agenda stuff to find the map of the hotel. "So, all of us are staying in this wing, here we are, at my name—the restaurant is just down over—yeah, see?" He passed the map through to her in the bathroom. "Got it?"

"Thanks! Hey, real quick—before you go, would you go bring me a bucket of ice from the ice machine?"

"What for?"

"I need ice."

She shut the door. Inside, the noise of the shower changed pitch as she stepped back under the water. He shrugged and picked up the bucket.

* * *

At 8:45, there was a knock on Tyler's door. He bolted upright and quickly closed the browser on his phone. "Uh! Who is it?" he called, as he rushed over to check that the door was bolted.