Page 19 of The Risk Taker
“You okay? You look flushed,” she asks.
“Too much sun, I think. My head feels weird.”
She studies me, concerned. “Let’s cool off inside for a bit, yeah?”
I swallow, averting my eyes from Woody’s muscular ass.
“Good idea.”
7
WOODY
“Beds are done,Nandi. You want me to start on next door?” I call as I straighten the throw across the bottom of the crisp linen bedding so it’s ready for the new hotel guests when they check in.
“A young man like you should have better things to do with his time than hanging out with an old woman.” Her wheezy chuckle travels from the ensuite before turning into a cough.
“Thought you said you’d been to the doctor about that?” I say, walking over to the desk and spotting the bills on top of a note with ‘housekeeping’ scribbled on it.
“What’s your name? Sherlock Holmes?” she mutters good-naturedly. “Take yours and get going,” she adds, poking her head around the bathroom door and gesturing to the cash.
I nod at her, and her kind, weathered face breaks into a creased smile, lighting up her eyes.
“You’re a good man. You don’t need to be feeling sorry for an old woman. Now get out of here before I kick you out.”
“Yes, Boss,” I reply.
I wait for her to disappear back into the bathroom.
I flick through the notes on the desk, counting them. Jeez, for a high-scale hotel, people sure are cheap. I pull a money clip out of the back pocket of my cargo shorts and add a bill to the pile.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask as I pass the bathroom.
“Not getting rid of you yet, then?” Nandi chuckles.
“Not just yet.”
She sighs. “Still got a way to go? Saving for this trip you’re planning?”
I shrug. She knows how it is. Things cost money here. Like her medication for COPD.
And fake passports.
“Well,” Nandi says. “I suppose you’re a pretty sight for an old woman to see every morning. And you do a tight corner with a bedsheet.”
“Try my best.” I give her a smile.
She rolls her eyes with another chuckle. “Go on. Get out before management catch you.”
“Again?” Declan asks as he takes one look at my face.
I ignore him and walk into my small workshop situated farther along the beach from where the retreats are held. It’s little more than an old draughty bungalow that’s missing its bathroom after a storm blew a tree onto it. The hotel didn’t want to repair it and told Declan to use it for storage.
We worked out an agreement that means for as long as I’m here, it’s mine.
I put the piece of driftwood on the workbench, then lean on it with both hands, casting my eyes over the pieces I need to finish working on.
I exhale slowly. “She sounded worse today.”
