‘Well, hellllooo.’
I roll my eyes. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here, Michel? This is a private room.’
The woman tuts. ‘You said OK for the couple’s room.’
‘What? I thought you asked if I was in a couple and then I told you the reason I wasn’t and…’ It’s my fault, I didn’t understand her question and instead launched into my breakup story because really I haven’t been able to talk about it much and doesn’t everyone like some sympathy now and then? ‘Sorry, that’s on me. I misunderstood. But he can’t stay.’ I pull my towel tight.
Michel grins. ‘There are two beds and two of us, so I believe we are a couple if only for the next hour or so, eh?’
The towel draped over my lady bits now seems rather flimsy.
‘Is there any other room he can go in?’
‘No, so sorry!’
‘Right.’ I debate whether to flee, call this whole thing off, but leaving would expose more of my body than staying so I freeze and wait for the situation to resolve itself. It doesn’t. It only gets worse. Michel pulls his shirt off and goes to unbuckle his jeans.
‘Whoa, whoa. What are you doing!’ I shriek.
‘I’m getting undressed for my massage. If you wouldn’t mind, no photos. I’m sensitive when I’m naked in natural light.’
‘You’re not getting naked in front of me!’
‘Are you naked?’
‘Well, yes, but I?—’
‘Then it’s only fair I get naked.’
‘I do not want to see your naked body.’
‘Then don’t look.’
How did I get myself into this mess? The very last thing I want is to be lying naked with these knots in my shoulders growing tighter because Michel is sans underwear next to me.
I close my eyes and huff and puff so he knows I’m put out.
There’s the rustle of clothes leaving his body and a thump as he throws himself on the massage table. ‘Do you want to hear some gossip?’ he asks, as if we’re just shooting the breeze and not in a rather intimate setting. Gossip will probably make this whole debacle feel less awkward.
‘OK.’
‘So, I had a rather interesting flight yesterday.’
‘Did you manage to keep the helicopter facing the right way this time?’ The masseuse starts on my shoulders with her magic hands and suddenly this predicament seems less like a problem and more like bliss. The oil she uses is perfumed with frangipani, and that coupled with the meditation music and the soft touch, means I’m almost ready to drift off.
‘Very funny. No, I’m serious. I had two guests book a flight over Esperé.’
‘And is that unusual?’
‘No, I take guests on joy flights every day. What was unusual was they gave me specific coordinates and those just happened to be the undeveloped rainforest next to the Last Chance Resort.’
Could that be the same patch of rainforest I overheard Xavier talking about on that phone call? He mentioned something about it being an interesting proposition and that a state-of-the-art resort could be built there. Why would he do that if he’s got a resort right here that needs his attention? I don’t mention this to Michel, knowing that gossip around the resort spreads like wildfire and I might be totally off track with whatever I thought I heard.
‘So what’s the problem?’ I wish he’d stop talking so I could sink into the massage.
‘Well, these suits were speaking quietly like they had something to hide, so I listened harder.’
‘Is that even possible?’
