The Summer Wind

I'd scurried away, dragging the luggage behind me.

"Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" Dean asked as he stepped into the room.

I snapped out of the memory and looked up.

He wasn't mistaken. It was spectacular. I'd sunk a small fortune into this trip, spared no expense, which included booking the executive suite. The main living room was circular with a glass wall and bar. There was a fireplace in the center. A couch circled it, with several throw pillows and blankets as accents. A long tin plume rose from the stone brick fire pit up into the dome ceiling. It had been stocked with wood, and was ready to be lit. Two glass sliding doors led out to a balcony. A spiral staircase led to the main bedroom.

"I bet this place is really popular during the ski season. Who wouldn't want to throw their feet up and enjoy the fire after a few near fatal misses? Speaking of, did I ever tell you I almost landed a part as a ski rescue patroller?"

"No," I said, as I rolled the last bag in. Dean was already behind the bar pouring himself a drink.

"It's true. It was a small part. They offered me private ski lessons, but I had to decline because it conflicted with another shoot. Malibu sunshine? I got a special recipe," he asked.

"Ah, no thanks."

"So what's on our magical too do list?" he asked.

I looked down at the itinerary. We were scheduled for a couples massage at noon ... couples?

"Couples, how sweet," he said as he slipped in beside me and peered down at the pamphlet. The ice rattled in his glass as he took a sip. It reeked of coconut milk and spiced rum. I looked back at the bar. There were small metal bands around all of the bottles. Sensors? How much was this going to cost me? I thought grimly.

"Well, if we're going to make it there in time, we should probably head out now. I'll change quickly. Lets skip the Yoga class and head straight to the pool bar afterwards. I checked the menu while you were fumbling to check us in, they have fusion sliders, my favorite!"

"Sounds delicious," I said.

"This way bellboy," he teased as he walked towards the stairs.

I grunted and followed him, lugging the suitcases behind me.

As I was doing a series of simple calculations, figuring out whether I could carry all the bags up in one trip without breaking my neck, I looked up. What I saw was seared into my memory. From my angle, I could peek under the hem of his summer dress. He was wearing pale white panties, the string thong tucked in between his ass ... and what an ass it was.

"Did you remember to pack your swim trunks?" he asked, peering over his shoulder.

My eyes darted away, searching for something solid to anchor them too.

Had I packed them? During all the confusion I wasn't sure I'd grabbed them.

"If not, I have a spare you can borrow," he said and continued up the stairs.

Spare? I thought as my eye wandered back to his ass. A spare what?

I followed him to the second floor landing. A single door led to a bathroom. At the heart of the room was a bed ... a single bed.

Dean stepped over the thick shag carpet and poked it.

"Looks comfy," he said, smirking.

My jaw clenched as I stared at it.

He looked back at me with a devilish grin. "I'll warn you now, I tend to kick in my sleep."

"That's fine. I'll sleep on the couch."

"After what you've spent, that doesn't seem fair. No, I won't hear of it."

"It's fine, really."

"Suit yourself. I'll get changed quick and we can head out. I could really use a massage, my muscles are like concrete."

I wheeled the suitcases into the room and tossed my small bag onto the bed.

"Leave that one, I'll need it," he said and took the second suitcase from me. "I won't be gone long, tiger" he said, went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

I was alone.

I was still juggling several thoughts, trying to make sense of the strange events that had led me here. I remembered the Burger Bear, my apartment, a barricaded door, a bizarre proposal and eventually my surrender.

... that dress, that floral dress. I still couldn't get it out of my mind. The way the soft fabric danced in the summer breeze, the way it teased me.

I looked down at my small bag. I opened it. Everything had been crammed into a tight ball. I reached in, searched and discovered, to my surprise, that I had indeed packed a swimsuit.

I could still turn back, fake a stomach ache and call the whole thing off. He might not buy my performance, but he'd play along. I couldn't quite explain it, but I knew I was treading down a dangerous path.

"There's a robe on the back door, if you're looking for one," Dean said from the bathroom.

Screw it, I thought, quickly stripped down and leapt into my swim trunks. I pulled the waist band. I felt bloated, soggy. When was the last time I had worked out? if ever ... or swum? I remembered the faint smell of chlorine, the turquoise blue water. The memories were faded, old.

"I feel like a stuffed animal in this thing," Dean giggled as he stepped out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a thick white robe that covered his entire body.

"All set?" he asked.

I nodded, grabbed the other robe and slipped into a pair of flip flops. We left the room, and walked through the hallways. They were difficult to navigate, often changing direction at a whim.

"It's actually quite clever," he said after we took several wrong turns. "The spa was built around the natural formation of the mountain, hence why it feels like it was designed by someone who suffered from a severe head injury."

"Fascinating," I said, as I spotted some of the other guests. They were all paired, and thankfully ignored us as they passed by.

We arrived at the massage parlor. I was surprised, it was not at all what I was expecting. It was small. It looked like someone had lobbed off the front end of a log cabin and glued it to the tail end of the spa. We walked through the thick oak doors. After a brief check in at the reception we were whisked away to a private room with two massage tables.

"Is that an incense candle?" I asked awkwardly as I disrobed.

"Nope, it's actually just the wood's natural saps. We don't use any artificial chemicals. It's all part of our goal to be 100% organic," the masseuse said cheerfully.

"Fascinating," I said again, like a broken record as I laid down on the table.

"Don't mind him," Dean said as he approached the other table. "He's just wound tighter than a yo-yo."

"Hilari ..." I said before being interrupted. The masseuse dug his fingers deep into my shoulders, thawing the aching muscle. I let out a soft moan as all the tension in my body deflated. I melted like butter, pooling on the table as he kneaded me like a lump of clay.

I looked over at Dean. He was face down, naked from the waist up. His hair was swept to one side, his head turned away from me. I followed the plummeting line of his neck. It gradually eased into the small of his back.

One ... two ... three.

I counted every breath, watching as his chest gently rose and fell. My eyes drifted down, peeking underneath.

It wasn't a trick of the light, nor a clever illusion. They, like everything else in the room was natural, organic.

... breasts.

... and they were real.

Chapter Five

"Do you want something stronger?" Dean asked.

"No thanks, it's fine ... just give me a few minutes, I'm almost awake," I said as I squinted in the afternoon sun.

"Suit yourself," he said, leaned back in his wicker chair and took another sip from the fishbowl he'd ordered as a starting drink.

I picked up my cup of coffee and took a sip. It was luke warm, but the caffeine still held a decent charge.

My memory was still foggy, the pieces scattered. I'd passed out on the massage table, lulled into a deep sleep by the masseuse's sorcery. I only vaguely recalled stumbling to the small patio bistro before flopping down at the nearest available table and ordering lunch.

When the goop had cleared from my eyes, I'd taken in my surroundings. The bistro was located at the heart of the spa next to a pool of fresh water that had been gouged out of the rock by natural erosion. A small waterfall spilled over a sheer stone wall, the clear blue water sparkling like diamonds.

"I could listen to that all day. Isn't it so soothing?" Dean said as he'd followed my gaze.

I was mesmerized, my eyes glued to the frenzy of pale white ribbons as they were swallowed by the icy blue water.

"Yea," I whispered. "It's super ..."

I felt something creeping up from the ooze in my belly. I shifted uneasily in my wicker chair, unable to find a comfortable spot. Had this all been a terrible mistake? Maybe I would have been better off just spending the weekend sulking in my apartment with the curtains drawn.

" ... and here we are, sorry for the wait," the waiter said as he broke my concentration. I looked down at the plate placed in front of me. The presentation was amazing, impressive for what was essentially a fancy burger. I looked up. Dean had already dug into his, and taken a large chunk out of it.

"Hand me your phone, I need to take a pic of this," he mumbled.

"What, why?" I asked.

"Because, if you want to attract bees, you need honey. You're back on the market now. But you need to come back, bigger, better. It's time for a rebrand, followed by a soft relaunch, and that means exciting new content."

I laughed, and dug my phone out of my robe's pocket.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works, but here, go ahead," I said, reached across the table and handed him my phone.

"No appetite?" he asked as he lined up his shot.

"I will be once I've woken up," I replied.

He took several pictures from several different angles, hovering over the burger like a big studio director.

I leaned back and studied him again. He really had embraced the role. His make-up was flawless, unscathed by the massage. His lip stick was vibrant like a fresh coat of paint, his eyeshadow seamlessly blended. Had he watched a tutorial? or had he picked up a few trade secrets from the professional make-up artists while on set?

I looked down at the burger in front of me. The thick slab of beef had been grilled to perfection. The toppings were packed tightly between two lightly toasted buns, the thick cheese oozing down its sides. My stomach started to grumble. My appetite had returned

"Do you mind if I interrupt you too?" I asked.

"Be my guest," he said and handed me my phone. I pocketed it and picked up the burger with both hands. It was like a brick. I took a bite.

If there was one memory I could soak in like a warm bath for all of eternity, it would be when I first bit into that burger.

"Will you ever doubt me again," he asked, grinning like a goblin.

"It's a close second to burger bear," I said slyly.

"You're such a terrible liar," he laughed and leaned back in his chair. He was still wrapped tightly in his robe, a sliver of his skin exposed at the neck line. The sight of him on the massage table was still fresh in my mind, but enough time had passed that doubts had started to creep in. What exactly had I seen?

"You still haven't told me anything about the new role you've landed. Any hints?" I asked.

"Well, I could tell you, but I'd be breaking several NDAs and would likely be hunted down by a mob of rabid lawyers. What I can say is it's big, real big. It has the potential to rocket my career back into the stratosphere. I could be lining my shelves with awards if I pull it off."

"That good?" I asked

"That good."

"When's it start?"

"I'll be flying out right after this. We start filming once I hit the asphalt."

"Shouldn't you be ... I don't know, practicing ... preparing, memorizing lines? Whatever it is you acting types do?"

His lips curled up into a neat bow, and he took another sip from his fishbowl.

"After I polish this off, I'm going to go for a dip. Care to join me?"

Join him in the pool, in a swim suit? Who was he kidding? Once he disrobed there wasn't enough acting chops in his tool box to hide the obvious ... he was a guy.

"ahhh ..."

"No excuses, the salt water will do you a world of good. Plus we need to build your appetite up for the main course."

"The main course?" I asked.

"yea, I did a double take when I saw the name. Talk about a lucky break."

He slid the menu over to me. I looked down. It listed all the options for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In tiny letters below was the name of the chef who was preparing it.

"That name looks familiar," I said.

"I'm not surprised. It's as common as a household appliance. He's done it all. Restaurants, cookbooks and a gambit of morning show appearances. He's a real media darling, or was."

"Was?" I asked.

"Yea, he ran into some trouble awhile back, it was all over the tabloids, your cookie cutter controversy. Not quite big enough to be dumped by all your sponsors, but big enough to tarnish the brand."

"So, why's he here?"

"Well, if I was to guess, I'd say he's planning a counter attack. It's a page from the basic playbook. Lay low, wait until the storm dies down, then pop back up in the lime light and pretend like nothing bad ever happened."

"And it works?" I asked.

"More times than I care to mention."

I looked again at the menu. It was odd. If he was such a famous celebrity, why hadn't they advertised it?

"And this is how he's planning to do it?" I asked. "I mean, we're out in the middle of nowhere. Who's going to notice?"

"If I was going to guess, I'd say he wants to make sure he's still got the chops before potentially embarrassing himself on national television. You're probably looking at the prototype of what could potentially be a game changing recipe."

"So we're the guinea pigs?" I asked grinning.

He picked up his burger and stared at it greedily. "For science," he said, and took another chomp out of it. I laughed and joined him.

We continued to eat and chat. I sipped my coffee. I felt loose, the caffeine picking up where the massage had left off.

"Did I ever tell you about the time that I almost got hitched?"

I almost comically spat out my drink. "Ah ... no," I laughed. "I must have missed that one, did it trend?"

"Thankfully, it never had the chance. I won't name names, but it was during the final season of Justice. It's really weird knowing you're working on a cancelled show. With the end in sight, you're on cruise control, focused on what comes next. I'd say our performances suffered, but there were so few people still watching, that nobody would have noticed ... it was that damn monkey. I knew that was a stupid idea," he said, his voice trailing off.

"Anyway, everyone knew I had several movie deals lined up, product endorsements, even the possibility of a spin off series. I knew it, and they all knew it too. Now, I have no proof, it could have been foul play or fueled by alcohol, but I ended up at one of those twenty four hour chapels with one of my co-stars on my arm."

"Did you go through with it?" I asked.

"No, and do you know what stopped me?"

"No, what?"

He sat back into one of his signature poses. I recognized it from the show. He used it when he was about to chew the scenery. Was he even aware he was doing it?

"I have a golden rule. I always keep my eyes fixed to the horizon. It's the star I navigate by. Any time I've had to make a difficult decision, I look there. It's really quite that simple. If I lose sight of it, I know I'm making the wrong choice."

He turned, his eyes fixed to nothing. He spoke, his voice low, raw like the crackling audio from a worn bootleg cassette swapped between loyal fans.

"I don't remember much of that night, but there was a single moment that stuck out like a sore thumb. I was at the altar, about to say "I drool," which I thought was absolutely hilarious, but was also probably still legally binding, when I looked up through the cheap plastic stained glass windows and saw the sun peeking above the desert horizon. I stood there, slack jawed and wide eyed like a zombie and watched as it crept up into view."

"Now, I've seen my fair share of sun rises. I've witnessed plenty after stumbling out of an all-nighter, and what I saw that morning was a pale imitation. I'm not superstitious, but I know an omen when I see one. So, I kicked over the altar and I booked it."

I laughed. "Were they angry?" I asked.

"Furious. If you go back and watch the final season you'll notice we never share any screen time together after episode three. That wasn't a coincidence."

From what I remembered about the series, I had a pretty good idea of who he was talking about, which explained several of the loose ends when the series wrapped.

"So what am I to take away from that other than it's a nice anecdote."

"Anecdote? with a juicy piece of gossip like that you could land yourself a book deal. Well ... maybe not now. But I'm sure it'd still make for a good cringy clickbait article," he said, caught the attention of the waiter as he passed by, and held up his fishbowl.

"A few more of those and you'll sprout gills."

He laughed. "I wish. I could order you one. I think you'd like it. It tastes like cotton candy and melted cough drops."

"Sounds delicious," I said.

We devoured the burgers, cleaning the plates. As it settled into the pit of my stomach, its warmth radiated throughout my body. It was an odd sensation, different from the usual self loathing I wallowed in after downing some cheap take-out.

Dean leaned back and patted his stomach.

"Incredible. I don't know what his secret recipe is, but he should take it to his grave."

I grunted in approval.

As I sat there, my naked skin cooked under the blistering sun like a baked potato. The thick robe was comfortable, but trapped heat like a thermal blanket. I eyed the pool again. The turquoise water sparkled like freshly fallen snow. I licked my lips, they were course, like sandpaper.

The spell was broken by a loud thunk as the waiter placed a second fishbowl in front of Dean.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked.

"I think we're good," Dean said eyeing me like a hawk. When the waiter was at a safe distance, he spoke again.

"You don't need my permission. Go on, dive right in. The water looks perfect."

Sweat pooled in my eyes, stinging them like agitated bees.

"I'm just going to go dip my toes in," I said as I rubbed my eyes. I stood up, wobbled, the blood shifting uneasily as I steadied myself. I pawed at the cobblestone, balancing on my toes as I made my way to the pool. It was empty, I assumed because the other guests had followed the itinerary to the letter. At the steps, I could hear the jets bubbling as they pumped fresh water into the pool.

"Cannonball!" Dean croaked from the table. "Do it, I dare you."

I looked back. He was grinning, his sunglasses perched at the tip of his nose ready to plunge into the fishbowl. I turned and dipped my toe in. The water was colder than I was expecting, frigid but refreshing. I pulled the cord loose, let the robe slip off my shoulders and tossed it onto an empty deck chair.

Every nerve cried out as I slipped into the water, and was then extinguished. I crouched down until only the tiny island that was my head was floating above the surface. I waded further in, pushing through the bulk of the water. When I reached the center, I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the wind whistling through the pines, and the birds playing telephone across the deep canyons.

I opened my eyes and looked up into the empty canvas that was the pale blue sky. I was just a lonely satellite circling it on an endless loop.

Nonsense, I thought.

I focused on the waterfall. The colours bled into each other, rich creams and royal blues. I remembered some vague article about the holistic properties of a waterfall. Was it true? There was one way to find out.