Page 50 of Here for a Good Time

“Ms. Poe! Mr. Zwe!” Instead of waiting for us to step onto the pier, Antonio takes the initiative of jumping into the boat, consequently rocking the whole thing and causing me and Zwe to fall back down onto the bench seats.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, are you okay? Leila will murder me if I’ve injured our guests of honor. ”

As he says it, I hear Leila’s gasp, followed by “Antonio, you’re literally a child!” She crouches down and waves into the boat. “I’m sorry, it’s been like trying to rein in a toddler during the countdown to Christmas. Are you two okay?”

“We’re good,” I laugh as Antonio simultaneously takes me and Zwe in one arm each and gives us a tight squeeze. “We’re happy to see you all, too.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the airport,” Antonio says. He throws a very unsubtle glance at Leila. “I was given chores to do.”

“Chores?” Leila scoffs. “You mean your job ? You’re the grounds supervisor, Antonio.

Your job is to supervise the grounds. How are you going to do that, on the day before our grand opening, might I add, if you’re busy stuffing your face with ice cream at the airport?

We still haven’t finished decorating the reception walkway, or assembled the tent for the beach, or—”

In one whirl, Antonio’s facing her, and grabs both of her shoulders.

“Leils, I know you’ve taught me that it’s not right to tell a woman to calm down so I’m not going to do that, but you need to breathe.

We’ve talked about this. You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm.

You’ve gotta go smoke a joint or something.

It’s still not too late to add a shrooms section to the garden. ”

At that, Zwe and I snort. “Never change, kid,” Zwe says, patting him on the back.

“And it’s okay that you couldn’t pick us up.

Leila’s right, you’re a big-shot supervisor now.

Although—” He pulls back to scan Antonio up and down in an exaggerated manner.

“Your boss lets his supervisors walk around in shorts and a tank top?”

“Thank you!” Leila throws up her hands while Antonio rolls his eyes, the two of them clearly having had this exact conversation before.

“It gets hot! I’m outside supervising the grounds all day!” Antonio argues. “Why are you complaining? I ditched the one I was wearing this morning because you asked. This is one of my good ones!”

“You want me to thank you for not wearing a tank top that says FREE KE$HA? With a dollar sign S ?” Leila asks.

Antonio raises a fist. “You’re welcome, thank you for noticing.”

Leila gestures at him. “If this is what our management team looks like, what will the guests think?”

Straining his neck, he makes a show of peering behind me and Zwe, and then around at the boat. “One problem with that argument—there are no guests!”

“The grand opening is tomorrow—”

“So I have until tomorrow to get dressed—”

“Would it kill you to be dressed today—”

“Do you want me to get up early and do my job or—”

Zwe’s piercing finger whistle makes all three of us clamp our palms over our ears.

“Okay, children!” he announces. “Antonio, no tank top and shorts tomorrow,” he orders, and although the ends of his mouth droop, Antonio gives a small salute.

“And Leila—” He turns to her with that small, amused smile, which is easily one of my top-five Zwe smiles.

“The kid is right. You need to smoke a joint.”

Antonio bursts into laughter. “Don’t be a dick!” I say, smacking Zwe on the arm. “Remember you’re talking to the new head of operations now. Forgive her for wanting to make sure tomorrow goes smoothly.”

Leila puts her hands together in a grateful gesture. “Thank you, Poe. See, this is why I hate working with men.” Darting a glance in Antonio’s direction, she adds, “Boys, even.”

We start heading for shore, and by the time we reach the end of the pier, Leila and Antonio have finished taking us through the plans for tomorrow night’s party.

“By the way,” I interrupt. “How’s your new boss?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Leila nods behind us.

Dressed in blue jeans and a slim-fit white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, six feet of “tall, dark, handsome” personified is jogging across the sand toward us.

“Poe! You made it!” Tyler Tun yells right as he envelops me in a hug.

When we part, I must still have traces of an expression that reads Oh my god, Tyler Tun smells amazing lingering on my face because Zwe subtly rolls his eyes at me.

“How was the journey? I know it’s a bit of a hassle, to say the least, so thank you for coming. ”

“Are you kidding? Free first-class tickets to heaven on earth?” I throw back my head and, for the first time since I arrived, breathe in the air.

It smells of coconuts and salt water and sand and cozy cold nights and sleepy warm afternoons.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Besides, that’s one of the perks of being self-employed.

We gave ourselves the time off.” I know it’s been over a year, but I still feel a giddy thrill at being a “we” in this sense.

“This is my boyfriend, Zwe,” I say, gesturing at Zwe.

“Nice to meet you.” Tyler pushes his sunglasses up and extends his hand. “Poe talks about you all the time. You’re doing a PhD in… I want to say math? Oxford, right?”

Zwe shakes his hand. “Yes. Well, statistics.”

“How are you two liking England?”

“The weather is much nicer in Southeast Asia, obviously,” I say through a grimace, and they return similar Well, obviously expressions. “But it’s been a good change of scenery. I’ve been using ‘writing retreat’ as a general excuse to explore different parts of the country.”

“Speaking of writing—” Tyler’s face explodes into a grin. “Did you see the latest script? I think this might be it.”

“I saw it arrived in my inbox yesterday,” I say. “But we’ve made a deal to not do anything work-related while we’re here, so I’ll read it when we get home.”

“I really need to take a few lessons from you regarding work boundaries. Do me a favor and please don’t tell my wife how good you are at setting them,” Tyler says.

He looks up, squints, and pulls his sunglasses back down.

“Shit, sorry, I just realized I’ve been making my guests stand in the sun while we talk.

Are you okay walking back to the reception area, or should I call for a buggy? ”

“Walking is fine,” Zwe says, and I nod in agreement. “In fact, I’d say it’s welcome after all of that time spent sitting on planes and boats.”

“ Your guests, huh?” I raise my brows at Tyler. “It sounds so natural coming from you. Who would’ve thought Tyler Tun would’ve pivoted from acting to hotel management?”

“Not me,” he laughs. “Or my wife, for that matter. When I told Khin that this place was possibly up for sale at a ridiculously low price, the first thing she asked was if this was my midlife crisis.”

“I would have had the exact same reaction,” I admit.

“To be honest, who’s to say it isn’t?” Tyler shakes his head at himself. “I guess that’s the problem with retiring early. I know, I know, champagne problems. But I was trying to figure out what the next chapter of my life would be, and the way you described this place, Poe, it’s like… like…”

“Like I have a way with words?” I offer.

I love Zwe more than anything in the world, but when Tyler shoots me that movie-star grin, my knees go a little shaky and I know it’s not just because of this heat.

“That,” he agrees. “And when I saw it for myself, I just couldn’t leave it in the state it was in.

To be honest, though, the staff was what sold me in the end.

” He throws that traffic-stopping grin over in Leila and Antonio’s direction, and they both blush.

Staff members drop by the reception area while we’re there, including Sandra and Antonio’s grandfather.

I can’t believe how quickly Tyler managed to redo the whole place.

It looks similar to what it was before, but also not, like a distant cousin of the original resort.

The basic architecture is still standing, but all the expensive marble and fountains are gone.

It’s homier and cozier, like a giant mansion that was built not for show, but to house an equally giant family.

The biggest new installment here is a massive mural of the island painted directly on the wall behind the row of reception desks.

“My aunt painted that,” Leila says when she catches me staring at it.

“No way,” I gasp. “Your aunt painted that ?”

“Yeah, she’s an artist. She used to teach art classes on the mainland,” Leila says.

“She really missed the island, though. When Tyler said he wanted to commission an artist to paint this wall, I knew she’d be the person for the job.

In fact, he loved it so much that he commissioned her to paint individual pieces to be hung in each room.

She got to move back home and make more than enough money to live comfortably through her paintings alone.

They’re even talking about maybe doing an exhibition with the pieces for sale so guests can take home a one-of-a-kind locally produced memento. ”

“That’s so cool,” I tell her, still mesmerized by the island on the wall.

Various layers of paint and textures make up the land, the shades of brown and green getting darker in the mountains and hills to provide a striking contrast to the pastel, nearly translucent blues and greens on the shores. “It’s gorgeous,” I murmur.