Chapter 5 Among Them Girls

• The staff accommodation reminds me of a summer camp, with small rectangular cabins lined up in rows and narrow paths winding between them.
• There are at least fifteen, from what I can see. I head towards cabin seven, where a faint glow of light fills the windows. Laughter erupts the moment I open the door.
• "Hey!" The nearest woman steps forward with a smile. She reaches for my handbag with her free hand. Her other hand is holding a silver flask. "Someone's late to the party!"
• I feel my face turn red, never one for open attention.
• "My flight was delayed. I had to get here by the ferry."
• She smiles widely, showing off a beautiful set of white teeth. She is extremely pretty, her pixie-cut hair framing her delicate features perfectly.
• "No worries. I'm Autumn. You and I are bunkmates. Hope you don't mind being on the bottom."
• "Not at all. I'm Prue."
• "You'll get to know all of us very well, very quickly."
• "I can see that." I quickly scan the cabin. Three sets of twin bunk beds, one on each wall, and a tiny vanity in front of me. I'm not sure how six women are going to handle being here together, but I guess we'll manage. Autumn waves her hand around the space.
• "Prue, everyone. Everyone, Prue."
• Nervously, I make the rounds as the others take turns introducing themselves to me. They all seem to be around twenty-five years old. In the corner bunk beds next to us are Rachel and Katie, two giggly blondes from Tampa.
• Across from us, a brunette named Lorraine from Oregon is lying on the top bunk with a magazine in hand. An impressive redhead from Atlanta named Tillie sits at the back. Her hair is a deep, vibrant orange-red instead of my flat and boring shade; a color I've wished for since I was twelve. And her voice... I could listen to her accent all day.
• "We have to share a dresser. Each of us has two drawers and we can split the middle one with our unmentionables. I took the top because I'm very tall. I hope you don't mind," says Autumn with a shy smile. She is sweet. And she is tall. She must be at least five inches taller than me.
• "I don't mind at all." I toss my backpack to the floor, glad to have finally made it to my bed.
• "What's this?" I ask, reaching for the thick black material hanging against the wall.
• "Privacy curtains." Autumn gives it a tug and the curtain flies across the bunk, around us, isolating us from the others.
• I nod. I suppose a little privacy is better than nothing.
• "Hey, wanna know what Autumn was hired for?" Lorena asks.
• "Nature guide?" I guess, and everyone laughs.
• "Close. Concierge. Trust me, you don't want me as a guide in nature. Everyone would be eaten."
• "Well, for my part, I'm not going to leave the confines of this beautiful property, so no one is going to eat this southern girl," Tillie purrs.
• "Except maybe the big bad wolf," Autumn teases, and everyone bursts into laughter. It must be an inside joke.
• Excellent. A few hours later and I'm already an outsider.
• Autumn comes closer to grab my arm, "Have you seen him yet? "
• "Who? The big bad wolf? "I furrow my brow, confused. She laughs.
• "Diego Star, the owner!" Wow. I laugh and shake my head. Her eyes widen knowingly.
• "Just wait. There's not a hot-blooded woman here who wouldn't spread her legs for that man's tongue."
• My cheeks flush. It's not that I haven't wondered what it would feel like if a man fucked me. I don't understand how I would ever psych myself up to allow it. I can't even touch myself without knowing I'll feel sinful once my climax has come and gone.
• I clear my throat, "So the owner is here? "
• "I saw him get out of his helicopter yesterday morning."
• "You think you saw him," corrects Rachel.
• "Oh, believe me, there's no doubt that man."
• Autumn takes a swig from her flask, "He spoke at my graduation ceremony two years ago. I guarantee you every woman's panties were soaked by the end. Maybe some men too."
• Another round of laughter. I can feel my face turning red from the crudeness of their conversation.
• It's not that I don't think these things, or feel these things. I've just been taught to never speak of them openly like this. And my circle of friends at school doesn't talk like this either. But if I'm going to live and work with these ladies for the next few months, I should probably start getting used to this now.
• I keep my hands busy and my eyes down as I unpack my backpack, filling the two bottom drawers with clothes for both warm and cold weather, while the girls talk about the owner.
• "The feature on him in Forbes says he made his first million when he was sixteen, in a stock investment."
• "That's nonsense. He was born a millionaire. His grandparents owned a gold mine in Alaska."
• "Yes, but he didn't earn it. It was handed to him."
• "I heard this property was given to him."
• "And his brother."
• "No, apparently everything was set up for him! Can you imagine the family dispute over that?"
• "Not that his brother hasn't had enough. Well, maybe not yet. His father is still alive, so technically he's still the owner of this hotel."
• "Do you know who he's dating? That Victoria's Secret model. What's her name? The one on the cover of the Christmas edition."
• "No. They broke up. She caught him in bed with two of her friends."
• "Bullshit. I heard he's super strict and law-abiding, like his father. Honorable to a fault."
• "No way. Star is said to be an arrogant and controlling jerk who fucks women and then leaves them."
• "A guy like that must go through women like underwear."
• "I'd gladly be his underwear."
• I listen to the back-and-forth chatter as I line up my few basic toiletries on top of the dresser. I unwrap the photo I brought of mom and dad and place it on the dresser.
• It's my favorite of them, when they were in high school, and she was slim enough for dad to easily wrap his arms around her waist. They got married as soon as she finished high school, my mom graduated two years after my dad. I arrived almost nine months after their wedding.
• I leave the photo of Abraham and me at the bottom of my canvas bag. The one I threw in the trash and then retrieved at least a dozen times, the pathetic and emotional part of me unable to let go.
• In the photo, we are sitting back-to-back on a bale of hay during the parade at the festival last summer, both smiling at the camera, as happy as can be. But the happiness is forever gone now.
• The only things left to put away are my bras, panties, and socks. They'll have to go in our shared drawer.
• I hope Autumn doesn't mind. I open the drawer and stifle a choked cry.