Masquerade

Fifteen

That afternoon we take it easy. Jaron shows me around the little villa. There is a room with a mirrored wall and exercise equipment, a spare bedroom, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a storeroom, a dining room, a porch and our room, the master bedroom. It is dominated by a huge cream bed. A mosquito net hangs over it like a cloud.

‘Very romantic,’ I say.

‘Mossies will eat you alive without the net. They are terrible, the only drawback to this place. Make sure you spray on a lot of bug repellent before the sun sets.

‘OK.’

We swim and go snorkeling. The water is super clear because it has been a calm day and he points out all kinds of fantastically colored fish and marine life.

When evening comes we stand on the beach and watch the sun setting. The sky is almost purple. It is unforgettably beautiful. Jaron twines his hands into mine.

‘What happens after sundown?’ I ask.

‘Nudity,’ he says with a smile.

I laugh. ‘How much nudity?’

‘Lots.’

Jaron barbecues the fish that the men caught and we eat them. They are succulent and wonderful the way food never is when you are not truly hungry. After the meal I have a shower. The water is brackish. Then we sit on the beach covered in bug repellent drinking rum and talking.

‘Listen,’ I say, suddenly catching what seems to me to be the sound of music.

‘It’s a party on the mainland,’ he replies.

‘Wow, the sound travels that far?’

‘Sometimes when the air is very still you can even hear a dog bark.’

‘Really?’

‘You want to go?’ he asks.

‘To the party?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Of course I want to go to a Bahamian party,’ I say enthusiastically.

‘OK,’ he agrees.

‘We’re going to crash their party?’

He smiles. ‘See you need to get into island mentality. This is not England where you need to let people know that you are going to come around. Here people just drop in. More or less everyone on the mainland knows me. I’m usually invited.’

‘Great. I love parties.’

‘Come on then. Let’s go.’

I change into an apple green top with spaghetti straps, tight red pants and the only pair of shoes I have left, now that my other pair is lying at the bottom of the ocean. But the gold sandals actually look glitzy and partyish. I layer on the mascara and slap on the gloss and I am ready.

‘Looking good, Billie,’ I tell my reflection.

‘You look amazing,’ Jaron says from our bedroom doorway.

I turn around and look at him. He is wearing all black again. In the dim light, he looks mysterious and positively unreachable. I walk up to him and touch him. A thrill of something potent but secret runs up my arm. The desire for him doesn’t abate but just becomes stronger and stronger.

‘I don’t know why I did that.’

He grins. ‘I don’t know either, but I like it.’ He runs his index finger down my cheek reflectively.

Suddenly I feel nervous. I smile weakly. ‘You’re staring.’

‘So are you.’

I pretend to grin. ‘I can’t stop. What’s your excuse?’

‘Same,’ he says very quietly, with no trace of humor in his voice.

He bends his head and claims my mouth and the kiss—I don’t even know if I can describe it as a kiss—is a mess of all things: it’s soft and yet hard, caring and yet fierce, liberating and yet possessive.

For a while I resist the conflicting demands of the kiss and then I give in, and I find myself in a slow dance. But it is not us who are dancing. It is our souls, entwined, swirling, merging like liquid. It is so beautiful and profound it hurts. When he breaks away, I touch my mouth and stare at him in awe. I feel almost drunk. My pulse is racing like mad.

‘What the hell was that?’ I whisper. My voice sounds tiny and scared.

‘I was carving my name into your heart.’

I look at him, the hottest man in every room. The man who already has a girlfriend. ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’

‘Because you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen. And I was claiming you.’

I look at him. I’m being stitched up. I’m walking into a massive elephant trap. ‘How can you claim me when you’ve already got a girlfriend?’ I hate the whiny sound of my voice.

‘Sometimes things are not as they seem.’

Something small and fragile blooms in my heart. I want to be coolly sarcastic. Laugh and say something richly comic. But I can’t. I have to be true to the moment when our souls mingled.

‘What do you mean?’ I whisper.

‘One day, Billie. One day soon I’ll tell you. Now: are we going to this party or not?’

I take a deep breath and smile, intoxicated the way no drug or amount of alcohol has ever made me feel. ‘We are.’

We take the small, shallow boat. It has a huge headlight on it that lights the way through a long, deep water channel that belonged to an old salt company. It shows the way into the bay. I have never been on a boat at night and it is a-fucking-mazing. The water gleams dark and mysterious. The cool wind blows in my hair and face and the occasional sea spray that showers us is exhilarating. I love the sensation of my hand trailing in the water, which is still warm from the day’s sun. I urge Jaron to go fast and faster. The speed is addictive and the feeling of flying headlong into the darkness is crazy.

When we get to the mainland Jaron secures the boat and helps me out. My hair is a mess. He runs his fingers through it and smoothes it down. ‘I love the feel of your hair when you don’t use half a can of hairspray on it,’ he says.

‘Well, make the most of it. I love my hairspray. Just forgot to bring it.’

We walk along the beach. He holds my hand. It feels right. On our right, dark vegetation rises up like an impenetrable shadow. The sand is so soft it gets into my sandals so I take them off and carry them in my hands. The sand is cool on my feet. There is no moon. The only light is from the torch Jaron carries. Little transparent crabs scurry along the sand in front of us. There is the ever present sound of the insects in the trees and the faint sound of music.

In the distance we see the lights of the party. It is being held on the beach outside a wooden house. There are lanterns lit around it and a bonfire is going. Lana Del Ray’s Summertime Sadness starts playing on the loudspeakers and I feel a thrill of excitement run up my spine.

‘Come on,’ I urge excitedly, tugging Jaron’s hand. ‘I love this song. We have to dance to it.’