Miller sat up as Billy and her companion approached the bar. He felt light-headed looking at her. Mendoza was bang on; she was stunning. His eyes moved to the man and he took in the styled hair, the smooth shaven skin and the haughty elegance of his bearing. He hated him instantly. Hated his clothes. Hated his obvious wealth. Hated his age. He looked back at Billy and saw she was looking at his drink with an amused expression.

"Are you up to your old tricks, Mendoza," she asked, in Spanish.

"Simply trying to salvage a wounded heart." He replied pointedly.

Miller watched the exchange pleased to see that Mister Gentleman's Quarterly didn't understand either.

Billy flushed slightly and avoided Miller's eyes. "Two vodka martinis, por favor."

"Si, senorita. Immediatamente."

Billy sat on a stool facing Miller and her companion sat between them, with his back to him, blocking the view. She hadn't even suggested that she knew him and he felt small and angry. This was her at work. This was ignoring him because she was too busy 'escorting' to even pretend she knew him. He took a long sip of his drink and instantly regretted the act.

The liquid seared its way to his stomach and then returned with volcanic vengeance in the form of a projectile spew of blue liquid all over the back of the man's white blazer. Miller staggered from the stool toward the pool clutching his mouth and was only rescued at the very last moment by a strong hand on his arm. He spun around and found Billy glaring at him as she hauled him back to the bar stool and stuffed a handful of napkins in his hand to clean up the mess he'd made on his face and clothes.

Winston was up and spinning around with his arms hung out, cursing and shouting "Jesus Christ, you- you . . . moron!" The man shrieked, as he ripped off his blue stained jacket and waved it out at arm's length. The crowd on the patio had quieted when the shouting started and all attention was on the pool bar. Murmurs of surprise and confusion hung in the air.

Shelia could barely conceal her surprisingly secret pleasure in seeing Winston humiliated in front of everyone but she also knew he would never let it rest there. It was not a good place to be. She set her drink on the tray of a passing waiter and drifted away from the crowd and off the patio.

Glenda turned from the group she was with to watch Gary, standing with another couple, as he in turn watched Shelia leaving the patio and taking the walkway past the resort stores. She also noticed the quickly shared glance between them-guilt with a whipped cream topping. Hector had been right and she began to consider how best to capitalize on the situation. Gary shuffled his feet and showed a nervous smile when he saw her looking at him and strolled casually over to stand next to her.

"Looks like Mister Big is a very unhappy camper."

"It would appear."

"I'm not getting very far with his assistant; I don't think she's gonna come up with much that'll help after all." The deliberate reference to Shelia almost made her laugh. His pathetic attempt to make his actions sound like a business plan was priceless.

"I imagine she will provide you with something." Glenda set her empty glass down on a patio table and picked another from a passing waiter. Gary shot her a glance. "At any rate, I think his business talk is done for the evening," she said, referring to the irate Winston Graves across the pool. "I won't be learning much from him the rest of this evening," She drifted away leaving Gary alone and flustered.

********

"Good evening, Hector." Glenda smiled, coming up beside him.

"Senorita." He removed the freshly lit cigarillo from his mouth, wet his lips and glanced about guiltily. Helen was close by, anxiously diverting staff to various operations as she awaited the appearance of Carlos.

"Shouldn't you be down there calming the guests?" Glenda asked.

"Senor Estrada is taking charge in this case." They watched as Estrada joined Helen and held a hurried conversation then Carlos dashed toward the pool bar with a pair of waiters in tow.

Glenda stirred her drink slowly with a finger. "What happened to your hand?"

Hector blushed, noticeable even with his dark skin. "Nada. I banged it accidentally."

Glenda nodded. "Anything new on our earlier discussion?"

"Nada- nothing, Senorita. I have not seen them together since." He started to say something else but was halted by her hand on his arm.

"I'd bet money you could do that tonight . . . either her place or his."

"Please, senorita Weiss. I have already embarrassed myself and insulted you; I prefer to have things out of my hands."

"Well now, Hector, that's interesting because I'm sure with just a little persuasion we could get things back in your hands." Her fingers traced a slow path through the hair on his arm and she felt him flinch.

"I'm not sure . . ."

"I think you are, Hector. I know I am." She looped her arm through his and smiled seductively. "Would you escort me to my suite, we need to go over the wording in my letter to Senor Estrada?" Hector deflated, looking nervously about and finally allowing himself to be led away.

Across the pool Winston was still storming about in small circles, flushed and angry, spittle spraying with every string of curses and threats aimed at Miller. Mendoza was on the telephone and seconds later, Carlos Estrada arrived quickly down the steps and around the pool, two young men in his wake, both carrying towels and a clean jacket.

"Senor Graves, I am mortified. Please, give me your jacket and take this one. We will have it cleaned or replaced immediately and you have no further expenses to consider during the rest of your stay at Windy Palms." He turned a stern look at Billy who simply raised her chin in response. He waved the two young men forward and they began dabbing Miller and the mess around the bar counter.

"Senor Hunt, I think it would be appropriate for you to apologize to Senor Graves then take your leave of the party. Behaviour such as this is unacceptable here."

Miller gawped at the group looking at him. His eyes found Billy and he detected a fleeting hint of sympathy before she helped Graves into the new jacket and led him around to the other side of the bar.

"Fine. Fine then. Sorry pal," he called after them. "It was all my fault, okay?" He turned to Mendoza and shook his head then he faced Estrada and offered a more sincere apology along with a very hasty explanation.

The manager closed his eyes and dipped his head.

"Senor Hunt," his voice was soft and low. "Senor Winston Graves is an important resident. He has expressed an interest in making much needed investment in the resort. As you can appreciate, his well being is of paramount importance to all our people here."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry my 'investment' of a week in your lighthouse doesn't measure up." He pushed past the manager and made his way off the patio and down to the beach.

The partial moon did little to provide Miller with any solace as he scuffed through the sand, shoes and now a very wrinkled jacket dangling from his fingers. He made his way to the dock and walked out to the end where he sat with his legs hanging over the water. It looked oily black where there was no moonlight and he felt it matched his mood perfectly.

On the horizon he could see the fairy lights of a cruise ship as it headed south from the mainland. He should have taken a cruise, he thought. At least his accommodation would have been in with the general population. More lights moved across the sky as planes crossed the water to other exotic locations and he sighed hugely, his mind conjuring up an image of Billy in her white dress and perfect makeup.

A rueful chuckle. That he would be lucky enough to meet and be liked by a woman like her was nuts. She was just part of the resort's joke being played on him because he was a nobody. He smiled dourly into the dark ocean, remembering the mess on Grave's jacket and he shook his head; the drink had certainly lived up to its name. So far all the 'special' drinks had done that in one way or another he mumbled and he let his head drop to his chest.

He could still taste the residual flavour on his lips and decided that, with the proper awareness, it might be a pretty good beverage after all. His attention was distracted and he didn't notice the approach of soft steps until something prodded his back and he turned, startled. He looked up at Billy leaning on one of the dock posts with her high heels hooked on her fingers over one shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

The meager light from the moon managed to lift golden highlights from her hair and her face glowed with a soft blur within its fluffy cloud. Her gown glimmered in the moon's reflection.

"What do you care?" He turned back to the ocean, his heart pounding with sudden hope.

"As a representative of the resort, it's my job to care about the guests." She moved and he turned again to see her strolling barefoot back down the dock.

Miller climbed to his feet and followed. "Hey, whatta you mean, representative of the resort? I thought you were here on holiday too." He moved fast enough to catch up with her and she stopped, facing him.

"My holidays are representing the resort. You asked what I did and I told you I was an escort."

"Yeah, and that you worked for some agency that hired you out to- to guys like that asshole tonight." She tilted her head, waiting. "What?"

"I was working, Miller. The agency knows my father runs this place and they take advantage of that fact. So do I, actually. Where else could I have all this and get paid too." Her statement was deliberately provocative. Intended to sting . . . and it did.

"So all this, be friends with poor Miller, was resort business?" She pinched her lips together and started walking again. "And your father approves?" She continued toward the end of the dock. "Hey, wait a minute." He hurried after her and grabbed her arm, pulling her around. "Why did you bother with me at all?"

She pulled her arm free and stared at him. The light barely lit her face but it still was enough to reveal a glisten in her eyes and he stared back in blank surprise. "My father suggested we soothe your disappointment over the room. There was no storm damage, he needed your unit for someone else . . . a bigger spender." She stepped down onto the sand and made her way across the beach toward the patio.

The remark hit like a punch and he sagged against a piling as he watched her go, watched her white dress until the shadows took over and she was gone, a beautiful ghost swallowed by the night. He held his breath a second as she reappeared in the rainbow of lights on the patio and then he lost her again. I knew it! Just another bit of promotional bullshit to keep guests happy. He hung his head and felt a hard lump forming in his gut.