We walk up the stairs to our hostel in Barcelona. “I fucking love that place,” Bodie sighs.
“Me too,” everyone chimes in. San Sebastián was incredible. We had the time of our lives, but now we’re back to reality. Well, not really. We are still backpacking in Spain, but what I mean is we’ve returned to work over the weekend before we take off again on Monday.
It’s Friday night, and once again, we are heading out. The party is never ending: always somewhere to go and something to see.
We go back to our room and get ready for the night and go down to the bar to see Eduardo.
“Hey.” Christopher smiles.
“Hi there,” says Basil.
“Hello, Mr. Basil, Mr. Christo.” Eddie smiles excitedly. “I did good.”
I slide into my chair. “Hello.”
“Hello, Hazen.”
I smile at his inability to say my name. So freaking cute.
“I got you all jobs.” He smiles proudly.
“You did?” Christopher laughs. “I knew you would.”
Someone stands at the other end of the bar, and he takes off down there to serve them. We watch him drift in and out of languages as he serves different people.
“He’s so intelligent,” Christopher says as he watches him. “He could be an accountant for the mob or some shit.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Basil agrees.
I get the giggles as I imagine Eduardo working as an accountant for the mob.
He finally comes back to us. “Miss Hazen, you work in a hotel.” He slides me over a card with the address and time I start tomorrow. A split shift, morning and night.
“Eddie, really?” I smile as I stare at the card. “Thank you so much.”
“Mr. Basil, you work on a boat.”
Basil takes the card from Eddie and stares at it. “A boat?”
“Yes, yes. Very good job.”
He slides a brochure over the counter to Christopher, and we all frown as we stare at it. There are pictures of slippery slides and fake mountains on it. “What’s this?” Christopher asks.
“You working at the fun park,” Eddie replies.
“The what?”
“The fun park, with all the children.”
Christopher screws up his face in disgust. “I fucking hate kids, man . . . blah.” He fakes a shiver.
I look at him deadpan. “Aren’t you a teacher?”
“Yes.” He rolls his lips. “Yes, I am.”
Basil studies the brochure intently. “Glad I’m on the boat.”
I smile as I imagine Basil on a boat in the sun all day. “So this is the time I start?” I ask Eddie as I point to a time written down on the back of the card.
“Yes.” He turns to Christopher. “You have twelve-hour shift tomorrow. You start at eleven.”
“Twelve hours?” Christopher gasps. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“You’re lazy,” Eddie replies as he wipes the bar.
“I am not lazy . . . twelve hours is just a very long time.”
Another person walks up to the bar, and Eddie serves them, once again drifting in and out of languages.
Christopher stares at the brochure in front of him. “What the hell would I be doing here for twelve hours straight?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re in the gift shop or something?”
He nods as he thinks about it. “That would be okay, I guess. Sitting down in the air-conditioning for twelve hours, I could totally do that.”
Kimberly bounces in. “Come on, Hazy.”
“Where are we going?” I ask her.
“Bernadette is meeting some guy, and we’re her wingmen.” She pulls me out of the chair. “Catch you boys later?” she says as she pulls me from the bar.
“Bye,” the boys call.
It’s 3:00 a.m. when the girls and I are walking home. Turns out Bernadette’s new friends from Sweden are funny as all hell. It was a great night.
“Hey, you,” Kimberly calls to a group of guys walking in the opposite direction across the street. I glance up to see Basil and Bodie talking and laughing with a group of men I haven’t seen before.
Christopher is in the middle of the group. He has a girl sitting up on his shoulders as they walk along.
She’s wearing light-blue skimpy denim shorts and a tiny black bralette top. She has a baseball cap on and two long dark braids in her hair. She’s gorgeous and sitting on his shoulders with her legs spread around his head like the queen of fucking Sheba. His two big hands are on her calves as he holds her tight.
My stomach twists at the sight. He’s taken a visible step back from me this week since we nearly kissed in the ocean . . . and I hate it.
I’ve kicked myself a million times over. I wish I’d gone there.
I should have kissed him.
I wish I’d thrown caution to the wind and done it. He’s backed away from me anyway now, so what was the point?
Christopher glances up and sees me. He smiles broadly and waves, without a care in the world.
I smile and wave back.
He keeps walking to wherever they are walking to. The girl on his shoulders says something, and they all break into loud laughter again. Deflation fills me.
What did she say that was so funny?
I watch them walk up and disappear around the corner. I wonder where they’re going at this hour.
And that’s that . . . the line in the sand, drawn in IMAX definition. Now I know for certain that he really didn’t care. I was just the closest warm body at the time.
He was horny.
And while I wish we’d gone there, I’m kind of glad we didn’t.
I lie in the darkness and stare across the room at Christopher’s empty bed.
The vision of him with that girl on his shoulders runs through my mind.
I dodged a bullet. I should feel grateful. He’s my friend, nothing more and nothing less, and I shouldn’t be annoyed in the slightest.
Fuck knows why I am.
Tomorrow’s a new day, and I’m going to make more of an effort to meet new people . . . specifically men.
My eyes roam over the empty bed, and I exhale heavily as a nervous swirl dances in my stomach. I just feel better when he’s home.
I glance at my watch. Five a.m.
Where is he?
CHRISTOPHER
I wake to the sound of seagulls fighting, and I frown as I lean up onto my elbows.
Where the fuck am I?
I try to focus my eyes as I look around. The beach is full of power walkers doing their morning exercise.
What fucking time is it?
I shuffle around in my pockets and find my phone: 7:22 a.m.
Shit.
Hayden had to be at work by eight. I was going to walk her to work. I stand and look at the people sleeping on the sand around me. There must be at least ten of them.
What a crazy night.
Then I remember. Oh no . . . I have to work a twelve-hour shift in the gift shop today. I’m as seedy as fuck. What was I thinking, even going out?
One minute we were having harmless shots of tequila; next minute I’m waking up on a beach.
I begin to walk off the beach. “Where are you going?” a girl asks.
My eyes roam over her as she lies on the sand. A vague memory of her sitting on my shoulders floats through my mind. Hmm . . . did that happen?
“Home. Bye.”
I dial Hayden’s number as I begin to walk. No answer.
“Fuck.”
I walk faster. I call her again.
No answer.
I hurry as fast as I can back to the hostel, and just as I approach it, she comes down the front steps.
“Grumps,” I call.
Her face falls when she sees me. “Hi.” She turns and begins to walk up the street, and I jog to catch up with her.
“I’ll walk you to work.”
“No need,” she replies. “I’m fine.”
“I came back to—”
She cuts me off. “I’m fine, Christopher.”
“What’s up your ass?” I frown.
“Nothing,” she snaps as she walks faster.
I nearly have to run to catch up with her. “You really are living up to your name today.”
Her eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Go home . . . or back under the rock you just crawled out of.”
I frown. What?
She’s pissed at me.
We walk in silence for a while, her rushing and me half running to keep up with her. “Did something happen?” I ask her. “Have you had a blowup with one of the girls or something?”
“Oh my god . . .” She rolls her eyes. “Please go away. I am not in the mood for your player crap today.”
I stop on the spot. Huh?
Player crap . . .
The fuck is she talking about now?
A bus pulls up, and she climbs aboard. The doors shut in my face, and I watch it pull away.
Well, that was weird.
She really is fucking grumpy today. I turn and walk back to the hostel and into the room. Everyone is still half-asleep.
“Hey.” I flop down onto my bed.
“What the hell happened to you last night?” Bernadette asks.
“Too many things.” I sigh. I look over at her. “Is Hayden okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She’s in the worst mood of all time.”
“No, she isn’t.” She shrugs. “Why do you say that?”
“She just seemed pissed at me, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “Probably because of the girl you were with last night.”
“I wasn’t with a girl last night.”
“Yes, you were. We saw you.”
Horror dawns.
“I was with a girl . . . in front of Hayden?”
“Uh-huh. You walked down the street with her on your shoulders.”
“Oh . . .” I think for a moment. “But Hayden doesn’t like me like that.”
Bernadette raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“I mean . . .” I frown as I contemplate the answer. “Pretty sure.”
“Men are so stupid.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re all over her all the time, man,” Basil says with his eyes still shut.
“Because we’re friends,” I splutter in my defense. “She’s not into me like that.”
Bernadette rolls her eyes and drags the pillow over her head. “This is why there’s no hanky-panky with roommates, you fucking idiot.”
“I’m not getting any hanky-panky,” I snap.
“Spooning is hanky-panky.”
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I stand in outrage. I don’t have to lie here and take this. “In what universe is spooning hanky-panky?”
“All universes,” Bernadette snaps.
“Women are fucking crazy.” I march out the door and then remember a very important piece of information. I put my head back around the corner. “Trust me, hanky-panky with me feels a lot better than fucking spooning.” I storm into the bathroom. I can’t sleep until I have a shower, so this suits me just fine.
I wash my body with vigor as I mutter to myself.
“She’s the one who didn’t want to kiss me . . . not the other way around. So don’t cry when you see me with someone else.”
Ugh, I’m infuriated.
“What does she fucking expect?” I scrub my skin until it’s nearly raw. “I need sex; she doesn’t. What does she want . . . me to be a fucking priest now?” I keep scrubbing. “And I didn’t even sleep with that girl anyway, for fuck’s sake . . . but if I did, who cares? Not me, that’s for sure.” I wash my hair. “I should march back to the beach and give it to that girl right there on the sand to prove a point.”
I keep washing myself.
“Hayden fucking Whitmore . . . the nun. How dare she be angry with me for being fucking normal.” The more I think about this, the more infuriated I get.
I get out of the shower and wrap my towel around my waist while I shave. I can’t believe I have to go to a fucking fun park gift shop today for twelve hours.
I squeeze the tube of toothpaste, and it gets stuck so I squeeze harder, and it spurts out and goes everywhere.
“Fuck’s sake,” I bark. “I don’t have time for this shit today.” I grab some paper towels and wipe up the mess. I pull on my clothes and walk out of the bathroom to see Eduardo standing by my bedroom door.
His face lights up when he sees me. “Hello, Mr. Christo.”
“Hello.” I force a smile.
“I came to see what you need of me today.”
“Nothing, buddy.” I tap him on the shoulder. “Go home.”
His face falls. “I was . . .” He stops himself and twists his fingers together as if nervous.
“What is it?”
“Could I please look at the phone for a minute? Just . . . quickly?”
“Oh . . .” I shrug. “Yeah, sure. Come in.” I open my bedroom door, and he looks around at everyone sleeping. I go to the drawer underneath my bed and take the phone out. It’s still in its box, and I pass it over to him.
He studies the box and turns it over and looks at the bottom of it.
“Sit down, buddy,” I say. “Take it out of the box and play with it. I’m going to try and have a quick sleep. I don’t start until eleven. That’s Hazy’s bed there. Sit against it if you want.”
He smiles and slumps down onto the floor. He excitedly opens the box and begins to look at everything in great detail.
I lie in bed and smile to myself as I watch him. This kid is the coolest thing in Spain.
A whispered voice wakes me. “Mr. Christo.”
I frown as I stir.
“Mr. Christo,” it whispers again. “You have to go to work, sir.”
“Huh?” I wake with a jump. Eduardo is leaning over me.
“What time is it?” I sit up in a rush.
“Ten o’clock.”
“Oh.” I rub my eyes. “Feels like I only closed my eyes for a second.” I slowly get up and look around and frown. Everyone is still asleep.
The room is spotless.
Clothes are folded into neat piles, everyone’s shoes are lined up, and Hayden’s bed is made. The water bottles are all filled and placed in a neat row by the sink. The phone is back in its box and set carefully on the end of my bed.
“Did you do this?” I ask him as I look around.
He smiles proudly, and I smile too.
“Good job, buddy.”
A little voice from deep inside says, He probably stole shit . . . No, I won’t think like that. Just because he has less than me doesn’t mean he is less than me.
I’m trusting my gut with him. It tells me he’s a good kid.
“I have to get ready.” I walk out to my locker, and he follows me. I take my backpack out and begin to go through it. “What will I wear?” I ask him.
“Clothes.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter. “What are you doing now?” I ask him.
“I’ll hang around until I start at four.”
I glance up at him. “You won’t go home in between?”
“No.”
“What does your grandma say about you being out so much?”
He shrugs. “She’s busy.”
“Hmm, okay.”
Poor fucking kid . . .
“I can do your washing if you want while you work?” he offers.
I smile. He’s trying to get his phone as quickly as he can. “Okay, that would be great.” I take out the plastic bag with my dirty clothes from San Sebastián in it and pass it over to him. “Thank you.”
“Miss Hazen have washing? I’ll do hers too.”
I consider it and then wince. “Women have weird stuff in their dirty washing . . . best to ask her for permission to do that.”
He nods.
I throw on my clothes and brush my hair. “Wish me luck.” I smile.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks for getting me this job.” I mess up his hair, and he swats my hand away.
“Don’t get fired,” he says casually.
“Ha . . . me, get fired? They’ll love me.”
Half an hour later I walk into the reception area of the fun park. “Hello, I’m starting work here today. I was told to be here at eleven.”
The bored guy on the front desk looks me up and down. “Just a minute.” He gets on the radio and then says something in Spanish. Someone says something back to him, and he laughs and hangs up. “Have a seat. Someone will be right out.”
I sit down in the lounge area and look around. This looks all right, actually.
A lady comes walking out. She’s older and tough looking. A take-no-shit kind of woman. “Hello. You must be Christo?”
“Yes.” I smile and stand. I hold my hand out to shake hers, and she frowns at it.
Oh . . . I tuck it away. “I’m Christo.”
“Hello, Christo,” she says in a sarcastic voice. “This way.” She walks off and through a double set of doors.
I roll my lips. I don’t like her already. I follow her out into the park. The sounds of kids’ screams as they come down the waterslides are deafening. There are rides and roller coasters and animals and a million fucking people. Balloons and food stalls. Flashing lights and bells sounding.
Everything is magnified in IMAX.
Ugh . . . this place is my worst nightmare. I hope the gift shop is soundproof.
We walk into a building and down a series of corridors until we get to a locker room.
“Okay, you’re Binky Bear.” She slides a coat hanger along a wire rope that hangs from the ceiling. A huge bear costume is dangling from it.
“Excuse me?” I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“You put it on.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
She widens her eyes and taps the huge bear head. “You’re Binky Bear. Put the costume on and get out there.”
“And do what? Shit in the woods?” I gasp. “I have no idea what fucking bears do.”
“Walk around and play with the kids.”
“I am not qualified to do this,” I scoff.
“You want the job or not?” she snaps.
No . . . no, I don’t.
“Put the damn suit on and walk around the park.”
“And then what?”
“Then you have a break, and then you get dressed into this.” She pulls another coat hanger along the ceiling. A huge disgusting costume comes into view.
“You wear the brown tights and the brown stocking over your head, with the costume as a dress.”
“I am not dressing up like a piece of vomit,” I snap.
“It’s pizza,” she corrects me.
“And I draw the line at a stocking over my head. It’s not happening. No way in hell. I’m not a fucking cat burglar.”
She exhales heavily. “All right, princess.”
I narrow my eyes at this tyrant. “I am not a princess.”
“That’s right,” she replies as she shoves the giant bear head into my arms. “You are Binky Bear and Pete Pizza.” She walks toward the door. “Hurry up. Get out there.” She leaves, and the door bangs behind her.
I look at the stupid huge head, and I drop-kick it hard against the wall. “I hate this prick of a job.” I call Eduardo.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Eddie, I am not in the gift shop. I have to dress up like a motherfucking bear.”
“Oh . . .” He falls silent. “Um . . . what will I do?”
What am I doing . . . this isn’t his fault.
“Nothing,” I snap. “I just want you to know how messed up this shit is, but it will be fine. Goodbye.” I hang up in a rush.
I scratch my head and sit for a while as I stare at the suit. Damn it . . . what do I do now?
Eddie got me this job. I can’t fuck it up.
I unzip the suit and peer in. “Ew, has this ever been washed?” I inhale and wince. “Oh no . . . it smells like ass.” I feel the blood begin to drain out of my face.
I can’t do this.
The doors burst open, and the tyrant comes marching back in. “That a boy.”
I glare at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve come to help you get into the costume.”
“This isn’t sanitary,” I mutter as I step into the bottom. “I need a rabies shot.”
She exhales heavily and turns me away from her and zips up the bottom.
The suit is huge, and I slip my arms into the big goofy paws. “This bear is fucking ugly,” I grunt.
“I know.”
“If I was a child, this would traumatize me.”
“Yep.” She pulls it up over my shoulders and zips up the top.
“In fact, I’m traumatized as an adult,” I continue.
She lifts the huge head and puts it on. My vision is suddenly a tunnel, and I feel like I can’t breathe. “It’s fucking hot in here,” I yell as the walls begin to close in on me.
“You’ll get used to it,” she says calmly.
“Get used to it?” I gasp. “Nobody could get used to this.”
She grabs my hand and leads me out. “You’ll have someone with you for a while until you acclimatize to the suit.” The feet are huge, and I feel like I am walking in huge skis or Moon Boots or something.
“It fucking stinks in here,” I yell.
“I know.”
“If you know, why don’t you wash the fucking thing?” I call. “Stop being so lazy.”
“Listen,” she growls. “Just walk around the park, and keep your dramatics to a minimum.”
“My dramatics are well warranted,” I yell.
I walk out into the blazing sun, and I begin to sweat.
Oh no . . .
It’s hot . . . hotter than hot. Butter-melting-on-a-hot-plate hot.
She introduces someone, although I can hardly see him. “This is Diego.” I think it’s a teenage boy.
He takes my big goofy paw. “This way.” He leads me along.
Kids start to scream. I can hardly see what’s going on out there. I stumble and fall and land on my hands and knees. “What the hell are you doing, Diego?” I yell.
“Oops, sorry,” he says as he helps me up.
Kids are screaming and yelling and clamoring around me. Where are the parents?
I hear a phone ring, and Diego drops my hand. “Just a minute,” he says.
“What do you mean, just a minute?” Kids bunch around me, yelling and trying to hug my legs. I subtly push them off me. “Don’t,” I tell them. “Calm down.”
Through my tunnel vision, I see Diego talking on the phone, totally distracted.
“Get off the phone,” I snap.
He rolls his eyes and turns his back to me.
Fucker.
I feel a swift kick to my shin, and I look down to see a boy. He’s about six. “Watch it,” I warn him.
He kicks me again, and I gently push him away.
A million kids swarm around me, and I’ve come to the conclusion that this suit is hotter than Satan’s asshole.
I’m dripping with perspiration. There’s no air in this thing. I can’t breathe.
Help.
I look back over to Diego. What is that fucker doing?
I feel something being wedged up my ass. “Ahh.” I turn around to see that same kid who was kicking me before. “Fuck off, kid,” I yell. I push him hard, and he goes flying back.
He stands, infuriated. Then he charges me. I push him back. “Diego,” I yell.
Diego is still facing the other way, and he holds his hand up in a coming signal.
The kid pushes me again, and I stumble back but catch myself. He comes at me again and kicks me up the ass, and I snap. I grab him around the throat with my paws. “Leave me alone,” I growl. “Diego,” I cry. “We have a situation.”
Another kid jumps on my back and starts punching the bear head, and then another one and another one, and I stagger around with ten kids on each leg. “Get off me, you fuckers,” I cry with my hands around the first kid’s neck. He escapes and punches me right in the balls, and I snap.
I rip the bear head off. “Diego. Get off the fucking phone,” I yell.
The kids all scream and run for cover.
“You!” I scream to the devil child. “Where is your mother?”
I hear a voice. “You’re fired.” I turn to see the tyrant, hands on hips, looking furious.
“You can’t fire me, because I quit,” I yell. I drop-kick the bear head into the crowd, and the kids all scream. “And I pissed in your suit,” I yell.
Not really . . . but in hindsight I should have.
I storm over to Diego and snatch his phone. “Get me out of this suit before I strangle you!”
HAYDEN
“You did great today, Hayden.” Maria, my new boss, smiles. “See you tomorrow?”
“Thanks.” I smile. “I had a great first day.” And I did too. This job is a dream.
I walk out the front doors and into the street, and I see a man standing on the sidewalk in the shadows, and my step falters. It’s midnight, not the time when people are just standing around.
I hear a familiar voice. “It’s me, Grumps.”
“Christopher.” I frown. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to walk you home.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
He holds something out for me.
“What’s this?”
“I brought your cardigan. It’s cool.”
Oh.
