meltmade
A family holiday had been a long time coming. Now their father had retired, and for the cold August, Simon had arranged for the accommodation, plane tickets, and four weeks' stay at one of his favourite destinations. They settled in comfortably. Their father doled out free advice and therapy and prescriptions to their co-holidayers. Simon invited his father and sister to dine with the heirs and heiresses of family fortunes. Aqua and gold were the 'in' colours this season. Fox wore green. She clashed wonderfully with the others. She saw that the ladies were hot for Simon. He bed-hopped in the bungalows near the man-made pools and islands. Their father chose a log cabin near a natural beach, somewhat set apart from other forms of housing. Fox liked the hotel and its suites, finding it hilariously and artificially microcosmic, with shops and tennis courts and bars and ballrooms hidden on obscure floors.
They dined on a yacht. A young woman in a tiny aqua dress asked Simon where he was from, and when he answered, "Geneva," she spoke about how much she loved France. Fox opened her phone and recorded her speaking. Everyone was highly drunk and talkative. The woman swapped seats with Simon, to sit next to Fox.
"What are you up to?"
With a sleight of hand, Fox switched her phone with her iPod.
"Music videos. Madonna with Gorillaz. Have you seen it?"
The woman smiled and laughed and Fox shared earbuds, allowing her new friend to choose a video while she borrowed the woman's clutch purse, without consent, and sorted through her recreational drugs and assorted accessories. There was a miniature spray bottle of mace, and a half-used packet of the pill in a side pocket. She found none of it very interesting, and replaced the purse in the woman's lap before her hands returned there to search for lipstick. She wanted a swim.
"Simon, I'll be at the rock pools. Tell father?"
"Tell him yourself, he's over there, with Ms Grey."
As Fox vacated her seat, it was taken over by other women, golden and aqua, and Fox imagined her brother being consumed by zombie lovers. She interrupted her father.
"I'll be at the rock pools."
He took her aside, conspiratorially.
"Ms James has been poisoning Ms Grey."
"I don't believe you."
"I'm fetching my bag, and I'll examine her tonight. I know it. She's being poisoned. And she knows that Ms James has been having an affair with her husband."
"Be careful, father. Your blood pressure."
"Have a good night, sweetie."
Fox's face twitched. Her father wouldn't use a word like sweetie.
She entered the hotel lobby, wanting to retrieve her favourite green bathing suit and towel. Hosts, like ghosts, fell into step with her, wanting to please her. They would buy swimsuits from the shops for her, if she would like to shop. They would have a drink with her, if she wanted to relax before bathing. They would swim with her, if she didn't want to be alone. She refused, elegantly, and they thinned out as she went deeper into the hotel, as though they were communicating with each other: "The lady in green does not need anything. Stop." Drunk men infested the halls and venues near the mosaic mirrored elevators, Fox's favourite set of elevators, which were situated dead center in the hotel. The men were unpleasantly drunk, and their gathering had an unpleasant theme, and Fox had a glimpse of pornographic material displayed on the screen of a nearby auditorium, and a flash of cameras on flesh in a nearby ballroom. She paralysed a man who tried to take her. As his mates created a scene, she caught an elevator to the twenty-first floor. Nuisance men rode in the elevator with her, convincing her to join them with the use of their hands and arms. She broke five little fingers and five men got out on the next level. She apologised to the elevator host for her violence, but he seemed to have seen it all before.
"No cameras here, ma'am," he said. "I'd already called security, and they would have done worse than break fingers."
"Thanks," she said, and she had already stolen his phone, transferred his phone number to her own, and replaced his phone in his pants, before they reached her floor. She could have just asked him for it, but some habits are hard to break.
Her father called to say that he had examined Ms Grey, and that there was a serious virus.
"Visit Ms James," he commanded. "Find out what her motive is."
"Okay, papa."
Fox used the front glass elevators, which were not as pretty as the mirrored ones, to return to the pools. Around three AM, after some time spent in gorgeous pools and spas, she visited the bungalow complex of Ms James and her family. She could see one of Ms James' daughters, in an aqua bikini, roasting inside a sunbed on a moonlit patio. Another daughter was at the lounge room bar, also in an aqua bikini, and gold high heels, entertaining her friends with cocktail olives and suggestive mimes. Fox chatted with Ms James and indulged in a berry daiquiri before leaving for a few hours of sleep.
A knock on her door awoke her at eleven, but it was just a host checking if she would like a private scuba lesson at twelve or two. Fox deferred the lesson until the next day, but accepted an invitation to a private dancing class in the evening. She also invited the host to share her breakfast, which he had buzzed up, and he graciously obliged in a pre-midday seduction. And she stole his phone number before bidding adieu. He left shaking his head at the surreality of the hotel life.
A second knock on her door revealed her father, sweating, although this was more related to his choice of a tweed suit in glorious equatorial weather rather than to any real emergency. He unbuttoned his jacket, untucked his shirt, and lifted it to show her his chest, with red marks at regular intervals across his pectorals. Fox let her eyes cry while she listened to his theories of a virus, and Ms Grey, and a conspiracy, and betrayal, and hatred, and how he had performed a self-immunisation by using a sample of Ms Grey's blood, and then he produced a vial, and asked his daughter to do the same, and asked her to get out of there. Fox agreed to his demands and he hurried away, to inform Simon, and so before Fox left for an afternoon in the rock pools, she quickly sent an email to their family physician, requesting his presence.
They dined on a yacht. A young woman in a tiny aqua dress asked Simon where he was from, and when he answered, "Geneva," she spoke about how much she loved France. Fox opened her phone and recorded her speaking. Everyone was highly drunk and talkative. The woman swapped seats with Simon, to sit next to Fox.
"What are you up to?"
With a sleight of hand, Fox switched her phone with her iPod.
"Music videos. Madonna with Gorillaz. Have you seen it?"
The woman smiled and laughed and Fox shared earbuds, allowing her new friend to choose a video while she borrowed the woman's clutch purse, without consent, and sorted through her recreational drugs and assorted accessories. There was a miniature spray bottle of mace, and a half-used packet of the pill in a side pocket. She found none of it very interesting, and replaced the purse in the woman's lap before her hands returned there to search for lipstick. She wanted a swim.
"Simon, I'll be at the rock pools. Tell father?"
"Tell him yourself, he's over there, with Ms Grey."
As Fox vacated her seat, it was taken over by other women, golden and aqua, and Fox imagined her brother being consumed by zombie lovers. She interrupted her father.
"I'll be at the rock pools."
He took her aside, conspiratorially.
"Ms James has been poisoning Ms Grey."
"I don't believe you."
"I'm fetching my bag, and I'll examine her tonight. I know it. She's being poisoned. And she knows that Ms James has been having an affair with her husband."
"Be careful, father. Your blood pressure."
"Have a good night, sweetie."
Fox's face twitched. Her father wouldn't use a word like sweetie.
She entered the hotel lobby, wanting to retrieve her favourite green bathing suit and towel. Hosts, like ghosts, fell into step with her, wanting to please her. They would buy swimsuits from the shops for her, if she would like to shop. They would have a drink with her, if she wanted to relax before bathing. They would swim with her, if she didn't want to be alone. She refused, elegantly, and they thinned out as she went deeper into the hotel, as though they were communicating with each other: "The lady in green does not need anything. Stop." Drunk men infested the halls and venues near the mosaic mirrored elevators, Fox's favourite set of elevators, which were situated dead center in the hotel. The men were unpleasantly drunk, and their gathering had an unpleasant theme, and Fox had a glimpse of pornographic material displayed on the screen of a nearby auditorium, and a flash of cameras on flesh in a nearby ballroom. She paralysed a man who tried to take her. As his mates created a scene, she caught an elevator to the twenty-first floor. Nuisance men rode in the elevator with her, convincing her to join them with the use of their hands and arms. She broke five little fingers and five men got out on the next level. She apologised to the elevator host for her violence, but he seemed to have seen it all before.
"No cameras here, ma'am," he said. "I'd already called security, and they would have done worse than break fingers."
"Thanks," she said, and she had already stolen his phone, transferred his phone number to her own, and replaced his phone in his pants, before they reached her floor. She could have just asked him for it, but some habits are hard to break.
Her father called to say that he had examined Ms Grey, and that there was a serious virus.
"Visit Ms James," he commanded. "Find out what her motive is."
"Okay, papa."
Fox used the front glass elevators, which were not as pretty as the mirrored ones, to return to the pools. Around three AM, after some time spent in gorgeous pools and spas, she visited the bungalow complex of Ms James and her family. She could see one of Ms James' daughters, in an aqua bikini, roasting inside a sunbed on a moonlit patio. Another daughter was at the lounge room bar, also in an aqua bikini, and gold high heels, entertaining her friends with cocktail olives and suggestive mimes. Fox chatted with Ms James and indulged in a berry daiquiri before leaving for a few hours of sleep.
A knock on her door awoke her at eleven, but it was just a host checking if she would like a private scuba lesson at twelve or two. Fox deferred the lesson until the next day, but accepted an invitation to a private dancing class in the evening. She also invited the host to share her breakfast, which he had buzzed up, and he graciously obliged in a pre-midday seduction. And she stole his phone number before bidding adieu. He left shaking his head at the surreality of the hotel life.
A second knock on her door revealed her father, sweating, although this was more related to his choice of a tweed suit in glorious equatorial weather rather than to any real emergency. He unbuttoned his jacket, untucked his shirt, and lifted it to show her his chest, with red marks at regular intervals across his pectorals. Fox let her eyes cry while she listened to his theories of a virus, and Ms Grey, and a conspiracy, and betrayal, and hatred, and how he had performed a self-immunisation by using a sample of Ms Grey's blood, and then he produced a vial, and asked his daughter to do the same, and asked her to get out of there. Fox agreed to his demands and he hurried away, to inform Simon, and so before Fox left for an afternoon in the rock pools, she quickly sent an email to their family physician, requesting his presence.