Page 4 of Grand Escape
Three travelers climbed out of the vehicle, looking like triplets in various maxi-dresses and straw cowboy hats. Tony remained patient as they laughed and took selfies in front of the car.
It was early, just past dawn, but we received guests at all hours here, the result of private planes and people arriving from various time zones. Tony turned and winked at me as I stepped behind the valet counter and grabbed the water bottle I’d stashed there before going for my run.
“Is there anywhere around here to grab coffee?” the last of the three women asked, her voice groggy and hoarse.
I’d bet if she took off the big black shades, she’d look strung out and hungover. Guzzling my water, I took in the other latest arrivals, placing them around nineteen or twenty years old. No doubt spending their parents’ money.
“Right inside, miss. As soon as you walk into the lobby, there’s a coffee station,” Tony told her. “It’s open every day from six to ten in the morning, and then you can get coffee any time of day from the lobby bar or room service.”
“Oh, thank God. I could kiss you.” She flashed Tony a megawatt smile before flipping her hair off her shoulder in a well-rehearsed toss.
Of course, Tony blushed. He couldn’t help but be enamored with the pretty girls coming and going.
He ushered the ladies into the lobby and stashed a cart with their luggage to the side while they checked in. His tanned skin blushing slightly, he joined me back at the valet stand.
“You think you’d be used to the attention after working here for a decade?” I said, teasing my friend. I hip-checked him when he ignored me, barely concealing my giggle.
“Hush up,” he muttered, but laughed along with me.
Tony and I started at the Grand Escape—the Grand for short—at the same time, close to eleven years ago. We’d learned the ropes together. Actually, he helped me more than I helped him. Tony, five years my senior, came from Las Vegas, where he was used to customers with deep pockets and how to get big tips out of them.
As for me, I’d been eighteen years old, a former spoiled little rich girl whose parents had told her to pack her bags. I’d been allowed to keep anything that was mine, except for my trust fund. Spiting myself, I left most of my belongings behind and hightailed it to an open-hiring forum for Grand Resorts.
My first six months here were rough as I tried to learn all the cocktails while remembering I wasn’t one of them. Meaning the uber-wealthy paying guests. Now I knew I wasn’t one of them, nor would I ever be, and I was grateful for it. I’d worked hard to get where I was, and I was thriving in my new life. At least I was living life my way.
“How was the run?” Tony asked, thankfully dragging me off of memory lane.
“Good. Same as always. Therapy on my own two feet that doesn’t cost me two hundred an hour.”
“But you can afford two hundred an hour for therapy now. Every day of the week, if you wanted.”
“That’s true, but why would I waste my hard-earned tips on bellyaching, when a little pounding the pavement makes it all better?”
“I’d hardly call running several miles a day a little pounding. Plus ...”
When Tony paused, I refused to encourage him, and instead took a long drink of water.
The driveway was quiet in the still of the morning—birds chirping in the background, tropical sounds piping from the speakers, dew still fresh in the air, and Tony’s glare focused on me. For a minute, I was lost in his light brown eyes, the light reflecting off the green specks in them. He was definitely handsome with a muscular build, tanned skin, and jet-black hair.
We’d gone there once, and it had been a huge mistake. Tony was looking for love, and I was looking for eternal nothingness. Except right now, I knew the way he was staring at me was born out of a different kind of love. Friendly and caring love.
“You know,” he said carefully, “you should call them and check in.”
Tony repeated the same advice whenever he had the opportunity. There was one night gone wrong between the two of us where I’d opened up and said how I occasionally worried about my parents. I couldn’t help it, but I did.
Stubbornly, I shook my head. “No reason. They’re living their best lives in West Palm Beach, and it doesn’t include me. After five minutes at their club, I might combust,” I said, giving him the same song and dance I always did.
“Ry, don’t do that. Don’t be the tough guy. Seriously. Let them know you care, even if they don’t.”
“First of all, I’m not a guy. And second, nope, I don’t need to reach out. Oh, look at the time.” I pretended to look at my bare wrist where I’d forgotten my Garmin watch. It was fine, though. After running the same way for a long time, I knew the route and distance.
Tony only smiled. I’d wormed my way out of this chat a thousand times.
“It’s half past get in the shower. You smell,” he said, changing the subject.
“You bet. Next time, maybe you’ll join me? On the run, I mean.”
“Ha-ha.”