Read Online The Resort by Bentley Little - Free Book Online Page B

Owen discovered as he dangled his own toes, and though he knew the best and quickest way to get used to the water was to jump in all at once, the three of them opted for a more gradual approach, sitting there and allowing their legs to slowly stir the water in an effort to acclimatize themselves.
    A moment later, David’s parents passed by on their way to the restaurant for a late breakfast or early lunch or brunch. Owen was amazed by how casual and unconcerned they seemed about their son. They’d both been under the impression that David was back in their room watching television and were surprised to see him here, but aside from a perfunctory greeting, they didn’t stop to talk, didn’t even seem to give a shit where he was or what he was doing, and the second they were beyond the shallow end of the pool, David was on his feet facing their retreating backs, both middle fingers raised high in the air.
    Owen and Curtis looked at each other. Their parents might have been incurable doofuses who embarrassed them more often than not and put far too many restrictions on them in comparison with the parents of their friends, but at least things had not deteriorated to this extent. David was grinning, as though the whole thing was hilarious, but Owen thought it was kind of sad. He remembered an antidrug commercial he’d seen where a bunch of kids pissed and moaned about their too-strict parents, recited a litany of offenses, said “I hated you,” and then looked into the camera and said, “Thanks.” He’d always kind of felt that way himself—angry at his parents for their micromanagement of his life, yet at the same time grateful that they cared so much—and this split-second glimpse into David’s family dynamics only reinforced his feelings.
    â€œHey,” David said, fingering his earring, “why don’t we see who can get kicked out of the pool the fastest?”
    â€œI don’t want to get kicked out,” Curtis told him.
    â€œMe either,” Owen admitted.
    â€œOkay. Let’s see who can do something outrageous and be the first to get a warning.” He glanced around. “They must have lifeguards around here someplace. Or some kind of hotel worker who can lecture us.”
    â€œAnd it has to be on the slide,” Curtis said, getting into the mood. “No harassing people or yelling at kids or splashing old women. It’s for a trick or something you do on the slide.”
    David nodded. “Deal.”
    The slide.
    Owen watched an over-the-hill jock careen down on his ass, hands in the air, whooping all the way, before landing above that irregular spot on the pool floor.
    The body.
    â€œPussyboy?” Curtis prodded. “You in?”
    â€œYeah.” Owen nodded. “I’m in.”
    David went first and, as agreed, Owen and Curtis sat on the edge of the pool and watched from the sidelines. At the top of the slide, David stood for a moment, then shouted “My balls!” at the top of his lungs and, melodramatically clutching his groin, slid face-first all the winding way down to the water.
    No one even noticed. There were no reprimands over the loudspeaker, outraged security guards did not meet him at the pool’s edge, and the swimmers and sunbathers surrounding them did not look up at David’s cry.
    â€œStrike one,” Curtis said as David swam up. He dove in and with long even strokes headed for the recessed steps in the faux cliff, which he climbed quickly. Reaching the top, Curtis stood for a moment at the head of the slide in a classic surfer’s pose—knees bent, arms stretched out for balance—before shoving off and riding to the bottom, standing all the way.
    Suddenly the piped-in music stopped, and an echoing voice came over the hidden speakers: “Please remain seated on the slide. Any guest who stands on or misuses the slide will be barred from using the pool for the rest of the