"This is nothing but a political media event. Why are we here?"
Maya asked her director, Mike. Mike was a full director now, and
making the sequel to the sequel of the vampire movie that had made
Maya into an up-and-coming starlet.
"Because the studio told us to come," was Mike's glib answer. He had even less interest than Maya in American politics. He was Canadian. He couldn't even vote. "They told me that Representative Glover Walland is on the committee that oversees movie censorship. Our general rating is a bit stretched in this sequel. The studio wants to be seen supporting him."
"Who is he again?"
Mike looked around searching for the scrum that would mean the representative was approaching. "I don't see him yet."
"I don't mean point him out," she said, "I meant, what is he?"
"Oh, so why are you asking me? I've never understood American politics."
The man standing next to Maya along the edge of the red carpet aisle started listening to her words rather than watching her cleavage. She was a knockout yellow blonde wearing a turquoise strapless mini dress that was as short below her shoulders as is it was high above her knees. "He's the front runner in the race to be the Republican candidate for the presidency. He's got a real good chance of moving into the White House."
Maya thanked him and then moved away from him, to return to Mike. She hated being crowded by men, especially men she didn't know. She looked around, wondering if there was another woman around to stand beside. Yeah, like much chance of that in this crowd. They were all suits, the corporate moneymen. If this Glover guy was a frontrunner, then they would be here to throw money at him. What was the word for that? There was a word.
"Opportunists," Mike told her, and she suddenly realized that she had been mumbling under her breath again. Mike nudged her. "Here he comes along the red carpet, shaking hands." She craned her neck and stood on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse on the man in question, but couldn't. She only came up to the shoulders of all the men around her. She peeked between two sets of elbows instead.
"Shaking hands," she confirmed. Maya always wore gloves in public because her fans would often try to shake her hand. The girl in gloves, yeah, right, her and the Queen of England. Oh well, it saved on hand sanitizer.
The crowd was getting noisier now that the guy of the hour was approaching. The collected odors of men, breath, tobacco, and booze was starting to get to her. Like most women, her nose was at pit level to men. Every woman she knew rubbed perfumed hand sanitizer on their pits to kill the bacteria that caused the odor. What was wrong with these guys? Were they just stupid?
She tugged off her gloves and stuffed them into Mike's jacket pocket, and then clasped her hands as if she were praying. She closed her eyes and began to center herself. She had a special place in her mind that she found whenever she needed to escape the grubby confines of reality.
It was a sunny beach, with long stretches of sand and no footprints, and she was nude and could feel the goodness of the warm sunlight kissing her skin all over, and hear the soothing sounds of the gentle waves all around her.
* * *
(Author's note - here starts the first flashback. This novel intertwines two story timelines. One present day, and one three years earlier. From chapter 2 ownwards, each chapter is completely part of one, or the other timeline, as indicated after the chapter number. Flash back now to three years earlier, on Wreck Beach, in Vancouver, Canada)
* * *
"Go on, I dare you," cajoled Alicia. Maya was such a prude, such a mousy little prude, she thought . So much less worldly than she, who had grown up a lot in her year at the University of British Columbia. Maya was still so, so, so small town high school.
"I don't want all those men staring at me," said Maya. "It's creepy." She had been shamed into baring all on this beach. 'The' U.B.C. beach. Wreck beach. THE nudie beach. It was one thing to lay on a towel naked behind one of these giant logs, but it was quite another thing to stand up and walk around for everyone to see. She could feel her heart pumping and her face flushing at the very thought of it.
"These men," Alicia sat up and waved her hand around at the naked people around them. She laughed. "Maya, we're at the gay end of the beach. None of these men are going to look at you." She always sunbathed at the gay end for that exact reason. That, and because it was the end of the beach furthest from the steep staircase down from the road, where any possible future first-year boyfriends may be hanging out.
The U.B.C. jocks with their six-packs of beer and slouching around in the cutoffs that they seldom removed, never came this far up the beach. They were too insecure with their masculinity to risk the gay end. "You just watched me walk around. Did anyone stare? Well, of course they stared, but it wasn't that kind of stare. They were friendly stares. Stares appreciating my youth and my healthiness."
"I don't want to," Maya pouted while she looked over at Alicia sitting on her towel in the sunshine. Alicia's dyed blonde hair was overdue another root job. The young California Latina had smooth hairless legs and a bikini wax job, and there was a striking contrast in skin color where her bikini usually covered her generous breasts. She was as physically different from Maya as could be.
It was a difference that had made their high school experiences worlds apart. Alicia had developed early and had attracted boys like abejas to miel. Maya had been treated like her kid sister, always tagging along and looking like Goofy, too tall for her width.
Maya looked down along her own skin. Her skin was not white and blotchy like most fair-eyed people, but honey-colored. In too much sun it would burn red, but if she were careful it would turn a pleasing amber color. Right now she had a farmer's tan with darker arms and legs than the rest of her.
Her skin was covered in almost invisible blonde fuzz. She never bothered to shave her legs. Why bother when the hairs weren't obvious? She had never, ever dyed her hair. The winter's mousy color turned blonde with enough summer sea and sun. She was always so short of cash that her girlfriends trimmed her long hair.
Alicia pressed a finger to Maya's back to see if she was getting sunburned yet. She was OK so far. "It's easy. You just stand up, straight and tall, and put your shoulders back and walk slowly. See, over there behind us? See those women selling stuff under those big umbrella tents? Walk just that far and look at the sarongs they are selling. They are beautiful and so cheap."
"You know I don't have any money," Maya complained. "That is why I am couch surfing at your place. I barely had the money for the gas in the ride share I caught from Frisco. My boss is such a bitch. She warned me to be back in a week. As if I had the money to stay away longer on what she pays me."
"I didn't say buy the sarongs. I said go and look. Oh wait. There's the beer guy." Alicia waved to a lithe bronzed young man wearing only a back pack. She pulled the bundle that was Maya's clothes closer to her so that Maya couldn't grab her sundress and cover up while the man sold them some beer.
"You ladies interested in a party?" he asked as he handed them two bottles, popped them open, and then counted out their change. "See over there where that log has been raised like a flag pole? We've got four guitars and some BC bud, and the best spot on the beach for watching people. Sunset isn't until almost nine tonight, so it will really be humming by then. Come over and check it out."
"That sounds like fun," said Alicia, "maybe later. Thanks."
They both watched as the bronzed beefcake walked away calling out "Bud light, pale ale, cider."
After drinking most of her beer, strong Canadian beer, Maya came to a decision. "Ok, tell the mother ship that I am going to explore the moons." She stood up and straightened her back and pulled back her shoulders so her small breasts bobbed high. For a little more courage and the feeling of a barrier, she settled her sunglasses more firmly onto her small, straight nose. A deep breath, and then she strutted over towards where the sarongs were stirring lazily in a gentle breeze.
She got lost amongst the pathways that wound between the beach logs and the sunbather's blankets, so it took her much longer than she thought to get there. She kept watching to see who was watching her. Everyone gave her a glance out of interest, and sometimes a smile, but mostly it was just glances. She felt braver seeing that almost everyone was in couples, whether gay or straight.
She smelled some dope smoke drifting in the breeze, so she knelt beside the woman with the joint and asked if she could have one toke. It was a mistake. The dope in Canada was way strong. One toke was a half a toke too much. She thanked the couple and continued on her way, now feeling even more disoriented.
There was a middle-aged man walking towards her. He was tanned and fit and Nordic-looking and he was smiling at her. She put her shoulders back again and walked purposefully, like all the models did on TV, but was careful not to encourage him by returning his smile. She turned away and pretended to look at a seagull as he passed by her less than a foot away, and then she felt it.
It was like the breeze had passed through her skin and then through her insides and then through her skin on the other side, but it was warm, and tingly and delicious. She slowed her pace and tried to recapture the feeling, but it was gone. It was like something invisible had passed through her and had kissed her with sunshine while doing so.
She stopped, just for an instant, to savor the feeling, and then started walking again until she reached the wafting lengths of colored fabric. Everything suddenly seemed very surreal. The sunlight, the sand, the beach logs, the blue sky, the gently shimmering lengths of colored rayon.
"Did you feel that too?" asked a deep voice from behind her. She looked around. It was the middle-aged man. He moved up to stand beside her facing the sarongs, but with his body turned away from her. "It was like something passed through me. Something that was warm and caressing, but not there, but there, you know? And gone so quickly, but I didn't want it to be gone."
She was going to deny it, but then she decided not to say anything to a strange man on a beach where both of them were standing around in the nude.
At her silence he said, "Well, I felt it, whatever it was. And it felt good. I was just wondering if you felt it too. I wonder what it was?" Maya was still silent. She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head, revealing lovely sea-green eyes and reached out, pretending to feel the heft of the fabric of the sarong in front of her. He spoke again. "Well, I was just wondering, you know, what if we did it again? Walked towards each other, I mean, and passed each other like we did before. Do you think it would happen again?"
His voice was deep and calming. He spoke quietly and softly. What he had said made sense. What harm could it do? "Ok," she said, "let's try. We'll follow our very same foot steps and pass at the same place."
"So you did feel it too," he confirmed.
"Yes, you described it well." She turned to retrace her steps.
"Uh, I can't, not yet," he said. He was blushing. "I'm kind of in an embarrassing way right now. Don't look." Of course that just make her look down at him, and he knew that her looking would just make it worse. "The feeling. What we felt. It did it. It was instantaneous."
She stared, wondering if this was a pickup line. Maybe not, he seemed nice. She decided to give him a break. "Think of football. That's what the guys do where I come from, like, to slow themselves down. They think of football." Thinking of the guys from high school made her suspicious again, and she had to ask. "Is this just a come-on? Are you just trying to pick me up?"
"No, honestly. This is very embarrassing for me. For one thing, you are the wrong sex, and besides, I hate football. I'll try thinking of hockey."
"You mean you are..."
"Gay, yes, and I am in a committed relationship."
"But you don't look..."
"What, because I have a deep voice and don't shave my legs? I'm an engineer. So is my mate. Neither of us know anything about interior decorating or hair-do's." He could feel her eyes still staring down there so he turned away again. "No, don't look. Here," he handed her some strangely colorful Canadian money, "please choose a sarong for me, so I can cover up."
She took the money from him and snickered.
"Don't be so critical of me. Have you noticed how swollen your nipples are? I'll bet the same thing that did this to me, did that to you."
She looked down, and then immediately covered her chest with her arm, suddenly feeling very exposed. He attempted to help her regain her composure by distracting her with a little retail therapy. He gestured at the sarongs with some colorful Canadian money. "They are ten dollars each or two for fifteen. Buy one for yourself, too."
By the time she had chosen two from the thirty on sale, he had himself under control. He took his, and she hers and they both back tracked and repeated their walk towards each other. Just as they passed each other, it happened again.
This time she was expecting it, wanting it, and it seemed stronger and more sensuous. They immediately turned and walked towards each other again. He was frantically trying to wrap his sarong around himself. When they were face to face and a foot apart, they felt it again.
"Do you think this is what they call love at first sight?" she asked.
"I used to think so," he replied.
"You mean you have felt it before?"
"Yes, with my mate. That's why we live together. Neither of us were gay when we first met." He looked around. "You know, this is not the place to talk about this. Come over to my blanket. We have much to discuss."
"Uh, no." She was still feeling exposed, and was clumsily attempting to tie her new sarong around her. "If you want to talk, you must come to my blanket. I have a friend there."
"Will he beat me up?"
" Well, she's tough, but no, I don't think so," she chuckled.
"Okay then. Wait here for me while I get my stuff. There are sneak thieves on this beach, you know. When they see you walk away nude, they close in hoping that no one is watching your stuff."
She played with her sarong while she waited for him to return. She just couldn't get it wrapped to look like the other women on the beach. Eventually the nearest woman, a heavy woman, stood up and wobbled up to her and showed her how to tie it.
"It's not fair to dress and undress in front of the men," the older woman said as she smoothed the fabric. "Not fair to the rest of us women. There's probably even an unwritten rule against it." She giggled a dope giggle. "Tweet! Two minutes' penalty for teasing."
When the guy returned, he put out his hand. "We should exchange names if we're going to exchange 'feelings'." He smiled. "That sounds corny. Anyhow, I'm Erik."
"Good to meet you, I'm Maya." They shook hands. "Now, Erik, I have a little problem. Looking around, I don't remember where Alicia is lying down." What with all the oversized drift logs, and without anyone wearing memorable clothing, she had no landmarks. Alicia could be hidden behind any of these logs. Then she remembered the green umbrella that the people next to them had. She spotted it and then danced her way between the blankets and logs. Danced, because the sand was getting too hot to stand still on.
They arrived minutes before the green umbrella was taken down. The couples around them seemed to all be packing up to go, and they were being replaced by shirtless young men wearing baseball caps and cutoff shorts and holding open beer bottles.
"Alicia," she said, "this is Erik. He came to share our space and talk."
Alicia squinted into the sun at the old man. He was even older than thirty. "If you say so." She wriggled her towel to the edge of the blanket to make room, and even though she covered her breasts with one arm while she did it, she still showed too much jiggle. She heard a man moan and looked over to the next log where a Joe six-pack had just arrived.
"If I may suggest," said Erik, "all the rest of the women are leaving the beach. The boys from Burnaby are here early today. Why don't we talk over lunch? Sushi. My treat."
"Sushi, you mean raw fish?" Alicia made a face.
"Yes please," said Maya. She also had been noticing how quickly all the women and couples had been packing up. In her home town, it was a good rule of thumb that you left the Saturday night dance when the rest of the women left. "Fresh tuna. Please. I haven't had fresh tuna since I was in high school and helped the fishermen with their catches. Sushi is so expensive in Frisco."
"Well, welcome to Vancouver," he said, "land of the six-dollar lunch tray."
* * *
The cliff trail to the street was a wondrous forest walk going down, but grinding and breathless going back up. They puffed up the rough steps in a straggled line of groups of women and their escorts. Meanwhile, groups of loud men carrying cooler chests were rocketing down towards the beach.
"He's a lurker, a perv," Alicia warned her, yet again, when they stopped, yet again, to catch their breath.
"He's gay and very polite."
"Yeah, I saw his politeness when he took off his sarong to put his shorts on. He's on the make."
"What are you complaining about? He gave the sarong to you, didn't he? Now we both have sarongs."
"Sarongs are cheap. So is sushi. I'm not," Alicia said between gasps of sucking wind. Three women pushed passed her chatting as they walked up the rough steps. She hated Canadian women. They were all twenty pounds lighter than their American equivalents, and fitter. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. and glared at Maya. "Fine for you miss, like, size four. Go ahead, dance up these next steps and make me hate you forever."
She looked at Erik waiting patiently behind them. With his clothes on he looked very GQ. He probably was gay, like Maya had told her. Repeatedly told her. Maya was so naive. Gay in Vancouver just meant bi-sexual, meaning that they would hump anything.
At the top of the trail they crossed the cliff-top road and followed Erik to his car. It was an almost new Mercedes two-door in a reserved parking space. "Don't you get a ticket for, like, parking in the staff spaces?" asked Alicia.
"I am staff. This is my space," replied Erik. He opened the passenger door and flipped the seat to give access to what passed for a back seat. Alicia tumbled into the back. He had not even driven out of the parking lot when he stopped the car. "Maya, please trade seats with Alicia. You are too, umm, distracting."
As they got out of the car to switch seats, Alicia whispered, "If he wants you, ask for a thousand."
"What," Maya replied, "a thousand what?" She saw Alicia give her that stare, like she was being naive again.
"Dollars," Alicia whispered as Maya ducked her head into the car and crawled into the back.
While they were playing musical chairs, Erik had phoned in an order for sushi. They drove directly to the Japanese takeaway, and while he was inside Maya asked, "A thousand dollars for what?"
"He's an old perv. Who cares for what, but whatever he wants, it will cost him a thousand."
"He's not a perv. He is very polite."
"If he won't go the full thousand," Alicia said thoughtfully, carrying on as if Maya hadn't spoken, "tell him he can have us both for the same price."
"You're disgusting."
"You're stupid," Alicia replied. "You're going to end up giving it away. He is drooling over you. You need money. Look at this car. He has money."
"This isn't about sex," shrugged Maya.
"Yeah, right. Maybe it's not about sex to you, but I saw his boner. It is totally about sex to him."
Erik came out of the shop carrying a large plastic tray, which he put down on the seat behind the driver. Alicia looked at the order. It looked expensive. "You're spending a lot of money on us. What do you expect for it?"
Erik smiled at her. "I just want to talk to Maya in private. I have no problem with you coming along like her security blanket, just like women in a pub go to the powder room in pairs. No problem, there's lots of food."
He drove calmly while they all enjoyed the breathtaking views that Vancouver threw at you around every corner. He followed the coast route towards town alongside miles and miles of beaches, now busy with ethnic family picnics, and beach volleyball tournaments. No one spoke until he turned into his driveway.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith