Gallivanting on Guam. Dave Ph.D. Slagle

dressed and come out to the living room” I say. Claire kisses me on the cheek and gives me a broad smile.

      “Come with me” she says, walking towards the back of the house. I follow Claire past a few closed doorways and into a bedroom. The room reminds me of a college dorm with single beds on opposite sides and clothing strewn about the place. Bags and bags of new clothes, most still have the tags. There are at least a dozen shopping bags from stores like Louis Vuitton, D&G, Fendi, Burberry, Macy’s and other high end retailers.

      “This is my room sugar. Jenny and I are roommates, two peas in a pod.” She says walking into the bathroom with the towel still wrapped around her body. Moments later she walks out, sans towel, now wearing a pink bra and matching thong panties.

      “Do you two spend all of your money on clothes?” I ask.

      “No silly, we just take advantage of the sales. Besides, there is no sales tax on Guam so we are saving way more than if we went shopping back home.” She says, pulling on some shorts.

      “Do all the girls from C’est La Vie live here?” I ask.

      “Most do but not the locals. Natasha always has about ten girls living in the house at any given time. You know that most of them are from Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, China or the Philippines. Right now Jenny and me are the only American girls. Well at least Jenny looks American. Natasha told me that I have to pretend that I ‘m from China.” She says.

      “Ah, that explains everything Lily, Miss Lily from Qindao.”

      ‘Why yes, I suppose that does, doesn’t it” she says pulling the tag off a new HIC blouse and pulling it on over her head. “Ok honey, let’s go sit a spell and have tea with Natasha.”

      Another Saturday morning in bed with Claire is our normal routine and today was a normal Saturday for us but at noon we finally left my apartment to drive over to Mangilao for a dance performance by Natibu Halau. Natibu is an award winning hula halau. The cultural dance competitions among the Pacific islands are intense and Natibu is the top ranked halau from Guam. After the Natibu performance Claire and I have about two hours before I need to drop her off for another night of work at C’est La Vie and right now my only desire is for Claire to call in sick but typically she can earn anywhere from five hundred to a thousand dollars on a Saturday night. It would be stupid to ask her to give it up tonight. At least we have time for dinner at the Grill restaurant inside of the Santa Fe hotel. It’s owned by one of the members of Tropics Gym so even though it is crowded, we have no trouble getting a secluded table on the patio overlooking Hagatna Bay. The dinner is complimentary and the setting is superb. I couldn’t have asked for a better night. Sitting seaside with the full moon reflecting off the waves I catch a glimpse of satisfaction in Claire’s eyes.

      “Every time we go out” she says, “every single time, you always end up taking me to someplace divine. That hula show was great, the drive around the island and this dinner” she stops herself and looks out, over the waves, into the darkness of the night. I think I know what she won’t say. I reach across the table and taker her hand. She shakes her head and slowly pulls her hand away from mine. Before I can speak she enthusiastically blurts out; “Hey let’s do a shot! Let’s do some shots together before I have to go to work.”

      I want to say no. I want to go back to a few minutes ago and ask her to finish her sentence but it’s too late. She is already asking the waiter to bring the drinks.

      “Hold on y’all, we should just go over to the bar. Sweetie, can we do a shot and a beer? How about just one shot and one beer before you can drop me off at work?” she asks.

      One shot becomes two and we are sipping our San Miguel chasers when Claire tells me that back home she would be “shootin’ whiskey chasin’ it with Lone Star.” I try to imagine being at a bar in Dallas with Claire and maybe Jenny too. Just a normal night out, like normal people do. A night where she wouldn’t have to pretend she is a girl named Lily from Qindao to flirt with men and get them to buy her overpriced drinks and sing karaoke. Claire finishes her beer by chugging it and slamming the bottle on the counter.

      Dropping her off at Natasha’s house suddenly feels strange. Standing at the front door, Claire looks me in the eye before wrapping her arms around me and kissing me. Shit, Natasha would be pissed if she saw us kissing at the front door but damn Claire tastes like cinnamon. The gum she was chewing must have been cinnamon and her hips are pressing, grinding into me. This wouldn’t feel so awkward if we were in the house, maybe even in Claire’s room but kissing at the front door is breaking some kind of house rule.

      “Natasha will be pissed if she finds us kissing out here” I say.

      “Honey, I was just thinking the same thing but dang it if you aren’t just too tempting. But if I take you inside, I won’t let you go and then I will miss work. That would be a lot worse. Now kiss me goodbye before I am really late.” We begin kissing again and continue to kiss as moments turn into minutes. We kiss until I notice Jenny, standing in the doorway behind Claire.

      “Y’all break it up! Y’all stop!” Jenny says, pulling Claire apart from me. “Claire, we are gonna be late. Y’all are fixin’ to ruffle some feathers. Best be on our way so Natasha won’t go flyin’ off the handle again.”

      “Bye, I have to go, bye.” Claire says, kissing me on the cheek.

      Claire and Jenny are still standing at the door waving, visible in my rear view mirror. I honk twice as I am driving away. I’m tired. In the last two days I have only had about six hours of sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday and I won’t see Claire until Monday night so at least I can sleep the entire day.

      The shriek of my alarm jolts me into another Monday morning, another day of training clients. Picking up my cell phone I see that there are a few missed calls, no messages, but it looks like Claire tried to call me a few times. The calls came in about three thirty this morning but she knows that my phone is off when I am sleeping. After I shower and get dressed I notice the message light flashing on the phone in my living room. Someone must have called my landline last night. I didn’t hear it because I set the tone to silent a few days ago when Claire was here. I didn’t want to be interrupted by my parents calling at three in the morning. That would have been an irritating situation. My parents always want to check in but they have an uncanny knack for calling at the most inconvenient time, like when I’m fucking Claire and it doesn’t help that they can’t figure out the time difference. They always call between three and four in the morning. Sure enough the time stamp on the call is three thirty three this morning. But the message is not from my parents. It’s Claire and Jenny laughing and saying that they . . . damn. I have to play it again. After listening to their message a second time, I realize that they are drunk, really drunk. They must have had a busy night at work. They are incomprehensively giddy and talking over each other. Playing it again, it sounds like they are saying goodbye to me. Fuck. Playing it again I realize that they called me from the airport. They are on their way back to Texas.

      Claire’s voice is sincere; “Hey sweetie, sorry I didn’t get to say good bye in person. Honey, I had such a great time with you but I have to go home now. Cest La Vie.”