She’d turned off her phone.
More than anything else, she’d needed to sleep. That was the best thing about having her night with Daniel end early – she could just brush her teeth, wash her face, change into her nightclothes, and go to sleep.
She didn’t need Gary waking her up at the crack of dawn playing one of his games, and the iPhone needed to be recharged anyway. She wasn’t getting the battery life out of it that she should.
She still woke up earlier than she would have liked. It was the donkeys again, and an old woman, one of the hotel guests, yelling out to someone that she’d take her coffee in the patio, should she bring up a Danish?
Michelle sighed and lay in bed a while longer. Eventually she would have to get up. Do something.
Turn on her phone. Call Gary.
She didn’t know what she was going to say to him.
Maybe things weren’t the way they seemed to be at the party. Maybe Daniel’s business was completely legitimate.
It sure didn’t look like it.
Even so, she wondered if it still might not have been better to take the risk, to tell him what was going on.
I need more time with him, she thought. More time to decide.
She wasn’t seeing Daniel until tomorrow night. What was she supposed to do in the meantime? Play tourist? Or, more accurately, play ‘woman who was trying to figure out her next step in life,’ since that seemed to be the role she’d adopted now.
‘Oh, fuck,’ she muttered. She could feel the pull of despair, like a physical weight dragging her down, and she just wanted to surrender to it.
Not an option, she told herself.
Maybe go to the beach. Call Gary from there. The beach felt more private than Hacienda Carmen.
She did some yoga. Took a shower. Put on a pair of shorts and a blouse over her bathing suit and went downstairs. Paused at the gate, looking up and down the street, in case the policeman was waiting for her there.
No police car in sight.
She went to a restaurant on the beach, one that was unattached to a hotel. The Beach Club, it was called. You could have a drink and a snack and sit there all day if you wanted.
She had her choice of the beige beach chairs. She picked a lounger under an umbrella that sat at the edge of the rise of soft sand, so she could look at the ocean unimpeded.
She ordered a coffee, some yogurt and fruit, and a bottle of water, then got out her book and pretended to read. She’d swapped her bread-baking book at the front desk of Hacienda Carmen for this one, a British mystery set in Cornwall. Better that than the romance novel featuring vampires.
She couldn’t read it. There was no point even pretending to try.
You have to call him, she told herself.
Finally she powered up her phone.
Three messages from ‘Ted Banks,’ her fake attorney. One from her actual attorney. A couple from friends. And a string of messages from her sister.
Call Gary, she told herself. Get it over with.
Instead she watched the waves and sipped her coffee.
Five minutes later her phone rang.
Ted Banks. Of course.
‘Hey there, Michelle! I was getting a little worried.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I forgot to charge my phone.’
‘Look, it’s real important that you stay in close contact. Guys like Danny, I told you, you don’t want to take any chances.’
‘I thought you told me I didn’t have anything to worry about. That it was safe.’
‘That’s right. If you do exactly what I tell you to do.’ A pause. ‘Have you been doing what I told you to do, Michelle?’
‘I …’ She closed her eyes. ‘I’m trying. I’m spending time with him. Isn’t that what you want?’
‘So tell me about it.’
‘We went to a cocktail party downtown. I met a bunch of people.’
‘Did you get pictures?’
‘No, it wasn’t—’
‘You have some problem with the camera?’
She swallowed. ‘No, I just didn’t … I didn’t have a chance to use it.’
She heard him sigh. Once. Then again.
‘I think we need to have a talk.’
A talk. What did that mean? He’d just hung up after he said it. Hadn’t set a time or a place to meet.
She stayed at the beach a while longer. The beach felt safe. Away from Hacienda Carmen, where Gary had installed her, where there might be people watching her. Away from the streets, where the police car was.
‘Señorita? Jewelry?’
A vendor had approached her chair – a young man a with a wooden display case.
‘No,’ she said, ‘no, thank you.’
‘You sure? I have silver. Turquoise. Good price.’
‘Sorry. I’m not interested.’
He squatted down next to her. He wore an oversize white T-shirt and a Dodgers cap and a thick gold chain around his neck. ‘Something else maybe?’ He grinned, keeping his voice low. ‘Something for maybe to party?’
Drugs. He wanted to sell her drugs.
‘I’m really not interested.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She fought to keep her voice steady. ‘Why do you think I’d be interested in something like that?’
He lifted up his hands. ‘Hey, you just look like you like to have fun, that’s all.’ He rose to leave. ‘You change your mind, I am on this beach all the time.’
After that the beach didn’t feel so safe. She settled the bill, gathered up her things, put on her blouse and shorts, and headed up the beach, to where the street, Púlpito, ran into the sand.
Waiting there at the curb, next to the entrance of El Dorado restaurant, was a white minivan. Gustavo, Gary’s driver, leaned against it reading a paper.
‘Hello, señora,’ he said with a friendly grin. ‘I’m here to take you to Gary.’