As we approach, I see the big freshwater dipping barrels for cleaning gear after a salty dive, and a neat hanger system for suits to drip dry. The dive center itself is in the first enclosed building I’ve seen since arrival, and Don actually has to unlock the front door.
“Don’t tell me you have security issues here?” I ask as he disarms the alarm.
“No, not really, not of that sort, but the equipment is expensive and has good resale value, as you know.” He opens the door wider. “I’ll run you through the security system when you lock up tonight.”
“That’s good.” Semi-decent scuba gear can set you back five thousand dollars, and from what I’ve seen of Beaumont, they won’t use a basic brand. I don’t give his comment any more thought as Don switches on the lights. I breathe easy. Whoever designed this had a plan. Don walks around and opens the locked window slats one by one, and natural light floods inside with a welcome breeze.
I lower my bag to the floor. A wide counter runs along one wall which hosts a whiteboard with a roster, a list of dive sites, and a few other just-stick-me-up-somewhere notices. There are the usual rails filled with dive suits in all shapes and sizes, the fins, the masks, the buoyancy control devices or BCDs, and regulators. Everything is neat and tidy, exactly as I expected it to be.
“The air compressor and tanks are at the back,” Don says as he unlocks another door, leading me to a cage for the oxygen tanks. “There’s also a washroom and shower here, but I don’t think it gets used much, as guests tend to go back to their rooms.”
“Fantastic.” I may have stumbled upon my alternate sleeping quarters. Nobody will know if I come bunk here at night to avoid being feasted on. That said, three months is a long time to hide out, and at some point, someone will notice. The word will spread that Lexi and I have broken up or something equally as ridiculous as our fake engagement. I’m not looking to turn our relationship status into the latest staff gossip.
Don goes behind the counter and points to the roster up on the wall. “These are the guests who signed up for dives today and where they’ll be going. Setiawan should be here soon. He’sfrom Indonesia and has kept the show going, but he’s leaving tomorrow. So, pardon the pun, we’re throwing you in the deep end. Setiawan’s wife is pregnant with their first and could give birth at any moment, so he’s not sticking around one minute longer than necessary.”
“I see.” Setiawan will be flying, so that means he can’t dive today. Can’t be upping his risk of decompression sickness when he’s about to become a dad for the first time.Deep end indeed. I look over the roster. The Pinnacle and Shark Corner are the two dive sites today. Tonight’s optional night dive has no sign-ups. The rest of the week is filled out too, and not one site is repeated.Excellent. I knew there’d be variety here.
“Speak of the devil,” Don says, and I look up to see a man walking in. “This is Setiawan. I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to see how breakfast’s going.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, but you’ll catch up quickly, yes?” Setiawan says as we shake hands.
“Haven’t much choice, do I?”
He chuckles. “You’ll be good. A marine scientist! I’m only a master diver, and to be honest, I don’t have the experience to deal with some of the people who come here. Be prepared for someenthusiasts.” He sighs. “I also have too much on my mind.”
“It will be good for you to be back home.” Seems everybody here has gotten the lowdown on Lexi and me. “You’re going to stick around today?”
“Yes, I’ll go out with you, but I’ll stay on the boat. For the rest, you’re mostly in Roger’s hands, with Mike on standby.”
Soon we’ve covered a lot of ground, from GPS coordinates for dive sites to where all the closest medical facilities are. It strikes me that I’m a man alone here. “What happens when I can’t dive? Get a cold or something?”
“Ha. Don’t get a cold or something.” Setiawan doesn’t look up from where we’re busy compressing air into the oxygen tanks for the morning’s dives.
Okay. I never thought to ask before taking the job—because I had other things on my mind—but a dive center can’t run with one dive master alone. “No, seriously? What happens?”
“They boat someone in from Dar es Salaam or Pemba. In general, it’s a mess, so make sure you give advance notice for getting sick.”
Roger walks in seconds later and nods in our direction as he starts putting equipment together for the ten divers we have on a double dive today.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask under my breath.
“I haven’t been here long enough to figure that out,” Setiawan mumbles back. “Luckily he’s your problem now, and good luck with that.”
Chapter Sixteen
LEXI
Ihave a pounding headache, and if I don’t go rinse off the morning’s heat soon, I might snarl at someone. At St Chalamet I used to run in heels in a temperature-controlled, five-star-plus environment. This morning has been a rollercoaster ride in a tumble dryer. I’m wrung out, parched, and sick to my stomach after gobbling down my lunch.
Miriam seems to take it all in stride. She’s environmentally fit, whereas I’m feeling my New York fall. My time in Miami was a blip of air conditioning and cooling off in Evan’s swimming pool with a mojito in my hand. Nothing like this. I didn’t appreciate it enough while I had it.
Miriam took me to see the office I’ll be working from, and there I found the holy internet I’d been missing like a freshly pulled tooth. She gave me ten minutes to email Evan, Mom, and Tessa, which I did in no time. Then, after spending two minutes searching forMia Reed and sex scandaland only getting old hits, I exhaled, feeling I’d been saved for another day. I didn’t have time to linger, though, as Miriam was on a mission this morning to explain how every last thing works. Luckily nothingis new. Things may work differently from St Chalamet, but they’re not unfamiliar. The office assistant, Jem Shabani, who’s been here since Ne’emba’s construction thirty years ago when she started as a nanny, has slowly moved up the ranks and knows everything in and out. It’s going to be fine. In fact, everything is so fine, I feel like a lost extra on stage with no real purpose.
After lunch we go over the details of the first wedding party, which arrives in a couple days. This is no simple destination wedding. It’s over-the-top luxury. Everything is being flown in from all over, and it’s a logistical nightmare. For such a small venue, this place does things with a big bang. Jem holds all the strings, though, and she’s not going to drop a single ball.
In the heat of the day, there seems to be a siesta break, so I’m off to our cottage for a second shower. I hate sweating and can’t stand the idea of seeing guests in a less-than-pristine uniform. I received several sets, and at least the clothes are practical—a sand-colored mini skirt, Bermuda shorts, or capri pants and sleeveless button-down cotton shirts with light brown leather sandals. Not quite St Chalamet, but it works with the island vibe.
I haven’t seen Tristan at all since this morning’s coffee, and while half of me misses him, the other half is sighing in relief. The less I see of him, the better. I haven’t been able to procure an extra mosquito net, as the question only raised the head housekeeper’s eyebrows to her hairline. “Why?” she asked. “Did you rip yours?Already?”
