Laura’s plan to go swimming after lunch the next day was thwarted by a photo session at the pool.
A dozen nearly naked men were being oiled and posed, while Juan Lopez snapped orders and complained about the lighting.
“No, no! They squint, they get wrinkles! Get a shade over there!”
His mousy assistant leapt forward to scramble up on one of the tables with a gigantic white sunshade, and nearly unbalanced onto the heap of men.
Mr. Canada, a brilliant red maple leaf swimbrief barely covering his intimate parts, broke out of the crowd to catch
the edge of the shade before it hit someone, and then he paused to flex his muscles while Juan snapped a dozen extra shots, white teeth gleaming in his tanned face.
Laura was not sure her eyes could roll any harder.
Instead of joining the appreciative gawkers along the deck railing to watch the photoshoot, she wandered in through the empty bar and up the steps to the dining level. She wasn’t particularly hungry — though Tex had assured her there was no remaining poison anywhere near the kitchen, she continued to eye food with some suspicion. But having the buffet to herself was a luxury that was hard to turn down after several days of having to hold her own with her elbows to get a plate of food.
She wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the brief respite from crowds.
She recognized Tex at once, more by the shape of his shoulder muscles under the staff shirt even than by the distinctive (ridiculous, she reminded herself) cowboy hat. He was filling his tray along with a collection of other staff-uniformed figures that could have given the over-groomed Mr. Shifter flock a run for their money.
She recognized Graham, the landscaper that she had witnessed frightening off a shrieking assistant with a pair of giant clippers, and Breck, the waiter who had served her the poisoned latte, as well as the lifeguard, Bastian, and another staff member whose name Laura didn’t know, an exhausted-looking native man who was muddy to the knees and juggling a toolbox along with his heaping tray of food.
“Goddamn air conditioning unit for the hotel is on its last legs,” he was complaining. “There’s only so long I can hold it together with duct tape and bailing wire. Breck, you’ve got to take a look at it for me.”
“If we all survive the next week, we’ll have enough to get a new one,” Bastian said encouragingly.
Laura was struck by the observation that he spoke as if the resort belonged to them, as if they were invested in its success. She had worked in hospitality, and she knew that it was more common for staff to be a distant subclass to the ownership. Certainly, she had never felt any kind of loyalty for her employers.
Tex turned then, and Laura’s full attention was caught by the way he moved, as if he instinctively knew she was behind him, and he couldn’t wait to see her. A smile was already blooming on his face, widening into a full grin at the sight of her.
Grateful that a blush wouldn’t show on her dark skin, Laura strode forward boldly with her tray in hand.
The rest of the staff turned to see what Tex was looking at, and gave her long, appraising looks.
What would they see? she wondered. A plump black woman in Jenny’s conservative sundress, wearing low wedge sandals? Did they believe her lawyer facade, or could they see the lies across her face?
Tex was just staring, a big smile and a slight flush on his face, so Breck stepped in. “Would you join us, Miss Smith? We’ll be dining in the staff room while we have a chance, and you are welcome to join us.”
To her surprise, the rest of the staff chimed encouragement. Even the gruff landscaper grunted and nodded at her in a fashion Laura guessed was meant to be inviting and not as terrifying as it came off.
Laura agreed, feeling uncharacteristically shy as she piled cold shrimp and fruit onto her plate. She snagged a roll so fresh it was still warm, and even indulged in a rich slice of chocolate cake.
Out of sight over the railing, there was a wild cheer and appreciative hoots from the pool deck as the Mr. Shifters were cycled through their paces.
The staff room proved to be a very small room off the back of the restaurant, a round conference table in the center with a handful of chairs around it. Open windows looking out into greenery and a ceiling fan kept it from being stuffy. Tex held a chair for Laura, and she took it gingerly.
She expected to be the center of their attention, but they all concentrated on their own trays of food and carried on easily, as if she were one of their own.
“Did you have to use the pink duct tape, Travis?” Breck asked the repairman.
“It lacks dignity,” Travis replied dryly. “But it holds it together, so I’ll use it.”
“We’re going to have to get a different distributor,” Bastian said, shaking his head. “They messed up a bunch of the orders this time!”
“I think Breck ordered the pink on purpose,” the landscaper said gruffly, and Laura nearly choked on her shrimp when he winked at her.
“As much as I appreciate the entire visual spectrum,” Breck said severely, “I believe that duct tape should be like the force. Plain silver, dark on one side, light on the other. And it should hold the universe together.”
“Geek,” Bastian said, but he clearly got the reference, so Laura thought it said as much about him as it did about Breck.