The Bad Boys of Eden (68 page)

Chapter Two

“You can’t quit school.”

This was the fifth time my dad had said that in the space of an hour since I’d surprised them by walking into the house right as the two of them had their afternoon swim. It probably didn’t help that I’d interrupted their afternoon delight as well. Despite being married for twenty four years, my parents still had frequent sex.  This was something I really didn’t want to know but it was difficult not to hear the noises late at night and frequently finding my mother’s G-strings shoved in sofas or lying about the pool area.

We were now in the kitchen, me sitting at the breakfast bar, my mom sitting beside me drinking a mimosa, and my dad pacing the room like a caged animal. He looked funny doing it because he wasn’t a big man by any stretch of the imagination.  He was five foot six and had no muscle mass whatsoever.

“Dad, it’s a complete waste of money for me to go. It’s not going to help me one bit to find a job.”

“And what kind of job are you going to get?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He shook his head at me. “That’s your problem. You have no direction in life. You just flit around from day to day without a care in the world.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what do you want to do Ivy?”

I looked down at the counter and my hands which were playing with a gum wrapper. “I don’t know.”

He threw up his hands. “It’s impossible talking to you.”

“Carl, just relax okay?” my mom finally interjected.

“You indulge her too much,” he said to my mom, “You always have.”

My mom put her arm around me. “Well, she’s our only baby. If I can’t indulge her, who can I?”

He glared at her, but she waved her manicured hand at him as if to shoo him away.

I smiled at her. She had always been my champion even when I knew I didn’t deserve it. Like when I crashed the car into a fire hydrant three years ago after a night of partying. My dad had fought to get the DUI charges dropped but had wanted to take my driving privileges away for six months.  I had been lucky and despite the fact that I screamed at him about it, I knew deep down he was right and had made a good decision. But my mom went and bought me a new car like three days later and gave me the keys in secret.

When my dad had confronted her about it, she told him that the whole incident was punishment enough, that I had learned my lesson.  She’d been right, I had, and I didn’t drink and drive again, but I remember them fighting about it for weeks.

I sensed there was going to be another fight about me any minute.

“Look,” I said, “I won’t quit college altogether, but I am taking this semester off. I need to figure out some things.”

My dad opened his mouth to argue I was sure, but my mom stopped him with a very indignant look.  “I think that’s fair. Carl?”

He sighed. “Fine. But you aren’t going to laze around for the next four months doing nothing. I will find you a job.”

My dad was a television commercial director. He also did music videos for a few obscure bands.  I could just imagine the job he’d find for me.  Set prepper or something like that. I guess I couldn’t complain too much.  At least I didn’t have to work at some fast food restaurant or retail store.

“Okay. Deal.”

My mom kissed me on the head. “Good. Now that’s done, I can continue to pack.” She slid off the stool and set her empty glass in the sink.

“Pack?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

“Your father and I are going on a holiday.”

She left the kitchen to head to the stairs to her room. I followed her out.

“When?”

“Day after next,” she said.

“But I just got here.”

“Well, it’s not like we knew you were coming home.”

She had a major point there. “Where are going?”

“To a place called Eden.”

“What’s Eden? Is that like an old person’s resort or something?”

“It’s
not
an old person’s resort.” She smirked. “How old do you think I am, Ivy? Jeez.”

I laughed. She was right. She wasn’t even fifty, and she looked and acted like she was twenty still. To my dismay most times.  Every time I’d had a party or boys over, she would prance around in her tiny bikini and flirt like gangbusters. It was embarrassing as hell. Especially when a couple of those boys proceeded to talk about the MILF in graphic detail at school to other boys.  I’d put a stop to that when I secretly took a picture of one said boy’s less than impressive junk and passed it around school. The boy was not happy. But at least he stopped talking smack about my mom.

“Then what is it?” I plopped down on the bed as she flitted about in her walk-in closet and pulled out several outfits.

“It’s a private island off the coast of Florida.” She folded a colorful sundress into her suitcase.

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to be invited. And
you
were not invited.” She packed three pairs of sandals.

“Who invited you?”

She shrugged. “The owner of the resort I suspect.”

“And who’s that? Someone you and Dad know?”

She stopped packing and looked at me. “You are being awfully nosy.”

“I just want to know. It just sounds so weird.”

“Why weird?”

“I don’t know.  Sounds like a cult or something. Are you sure it isn’t some scientologist thing?”

“No, Ivy, it isn’t scientology. Jeez. Where do you come up with these things?”

“It happens, Mom. Especially in the entertainment business.”

“Your father is
not
in the entertainment business.  He isn’t McG.” She gave me a look.  “Even if he thinks he is sometimes,” she mumbled.

I watched her as she continued to pack her suitcase, folding some clothes in paper and rolling others so they didn’t wrinkle.  She packed fifteen outfits at least and ten pairs of shoes.  For most people that would be a week’s worth of clothing, but for my mom it was probably just a few days. She liked to change her outfit at least twice a day, sometimes three times or more depending on the circumstances.

“How long is this trip?”

“Five days.”

“That’s a lot of clothes for five days, Mom.”

“Well, they have socials at night so I need a different outfit for each of those don’t I?”

“Is this a couples resort?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t know a lot about the place.”

“You’re taking a trip to an island resort you know nothing about? That sounds kind of reckless to me.”

She waved those long bedazzled manicured nails my way. “Don’t be silly. It’s a very posh place. Check out the invitation we got.” She pointed to the dresser near the balcony doors.

I got up and walked over to the dresser.  On top lay the invitation that was the size of a postcard. I picked up the thick linen paper and looked at the words elegantly scrawled in gold-embossed script. It read
Invitation to Eden
.  Then beneath that in smaller print,
attendees Mr. and Mrs. Carl Watts
. At the bottom in very fine print but still pretty and gold-embossed were all the particulars. Private plane from Miami, cottage on the beach, all food and drinks included.

This was a place I needed to go. A week of doing nothing but lying on the beach with a drink in my hand. No cares. Nothing to worry about except getting sand out of the crack of my ass. Just sun and fun and maybe an island fling or two.  It was just what I needed to get my life in order.  I had to go.

“Can’t you pay for another ticket to go?” I looked at my mom.

She clucked her tongue. “That’s not how it works, Ivy. You have to be invited. We didn’t plan to go, it just came as a surprise.”

“Well that’s just stupid.”

“It’s just stupid because you can’t come with us.” She walked into her ensuite bathroom.

She was right. I hated that I couldn’t go with them. There had to be something I could do about it.  I left to go to my bedroom and I took the invitation with me. My mom wouldn’t miss it right now.

I booted up my laptop and sat on the bed with it. I googled the
island of Eden
.  There were basically only two listings about it. One was a travel guide for the resort on the island.  It had pictures of the place – an imposing medieval looking castle as the main resort and a bunch of cottages on the beach near the startling blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean.  The reviews of the place were ambiguous and didn’t say much of anything about the place, except how ‘magical’ it had been. In fact every review on the site used that term.

The other listing was a Vanity Fair article from a few years ago about a billionaire named Theodosius Vardalos. He was the man who bought the island and made it into a private resort. There really wasn’t much else about him or Eden, except that it was supposed to be a place where dreams come true.

What a bunch of hokey crap.

I scrolled for more, but there really wasn’t anything of use. So I decided to go through the images.  There were surprisingly few pictures from the island that people had posted. I would’ve thought if the place was that amazing, there would be thousands of photos bragging about that. But if I counted there were no more than forty.

I clicked on each one, studying them.  Not sure what I was looking for, but I just wanted to make sure that my parents weren’t going to some cheap dive place that they’d be in danger of being mugged or stolen from. My parents weren’t staggeringly rich but they did pretty well and I didn’t want to see them being taken advantage of.

And I was looking for a way to get an invite.

Each photo was of pristine clear blue waters, white sand, and happy people. There was none of inside the castle type resort.  I thought that was weird considering it was a castle. I mean, the interior had to be all gothicy and cool.  There was one picture of an excited couple in front of the marble-like stone steps leading up to the main doors.  One of the women in the photo was holding up her invitation.  I zoomed in on it.

Then I grinned.

There was a phone number on the bottom of her invitation. It must’ve been a confirmation number or something so if people needed to cancel or change their plans they could.  I didn’t care what it was for; I was going to use it.

I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number. It was a long one with zeroes and ones in front of it.  So their head office had to be in Europe somewhere.

A woman with a thick accent answered on the third ring.

“Hello Ms. Graham. This is Nicole. How may I be of service?”

Oops.

“Ah, this isn’t Ms. Graham.”

“Then to whom am I speaking?”

“My name is Ivy Watts.”

“Did you receive an invitation from Eden, Ivy?”

I wanted to lie, but I suspected she would know the truth. She probably already inputted my name into her computer system and knew there was no Ivy Watts in their database.

“No, but I was hoping there was a way I could get in.”

“How did you find out about Eden?”

“My parents have an invitation.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Carl Watts?”

“Yes and I was hoping that I could tag along. They have a beach cottage, so you wouldn’t even need to book me a room. I could sleep on the sofa or even on the floor. I’ve slept in worse places.”

“I’m sorry Ivy, but our selection process is very rigid and discerning. Those who receive invitations, do so because they are in need of this place. Not just anyone can come to Eden.”

“Look, Nicole, I
need
this trip.  More than my parents do. They are wealthy and happy people.  Their lives are perfection. What could this island possibly offer them, except a fun time?” I couldn’t stop the snide remarks. I didn’t like how this woman was talking to me, like I was an indignant child having a tantrum.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Is this Eden like a therapeutic place for couples or something? Is that why I can’t reserve a spot?”

“In a way.”

I rubbed at my nose, then mumbled, “Perfect. Just another kick in the ass that I needed today.”

“I’m sorry Ivy…”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just having a shit day, you know? And I saw pictures of this place and I thought heck yeah I could really use some fun and sun on some beautiful island away from all of this crap I have to deal with.”

She didn’t respond, so I just kept my stream of consciousness going.

“I got dumped by this guy today.  He was cheating on me. And I don’t want to admit that it really hurt. People think I’m all tough and cynical, you know, but I’m not.” Angry tears were starting to fall again. I wiped at them. “And I quit college too. I just don’t want to be there. It makes no sense. I mean, I don’t even know what I want to do with my life. And I miss my friends and my family, and they’re all mad at me, well my dad is, he thinks I’m just wasting my life and that I’m not focused and I won’t amount to anything. And my mom probably thinks I should just find a rich husband and have babies. She’s always going on about how pretty I am and I should use that to my advantage.”  I took a shuddering breath.  While I’d gushed all of that out, I ended up sitting on the floor, my back against the wall.  My knees were up and I had my arm wrapped around them.  Tears had spotted my legs.