A Risky Bet

Four and a half months later… She floated in the pool on the shell of a giant ivory clam. The pink and green geometric pattern of her swimsuit contrasted with her lithe, golden limbs. Her black hair fell to her shoulders, a few strands floating in the water. She wore sunglasses and had red-polished toenails. She was fast asleep. As Stavros watched how the swimsuit lifted her breasts and outlined her hips before disappearing between her thighs, he grew aroused. He fantasized about jumping into the pool and approaching her, taking her in his arms, like an ancient god stealing a nymph, and possessing her on the wicker sofa that sat in the shade behind the curtain of water at the far end of the pool. The only sound in the high-walled garden was that of the waterfall, which flowed from the edge of the ivy-covered trellis that served as a roof over the bar area. The sound of the water muffled Stavros's sigh as he set down his toolbox, which contained power tools, a sledgehammer, trowels, and adhesives. He straightened up and took another look. Maybe playing the role of a pool maintenance man wouldn't be so bad. The night before, I had been cursing Sebastien vehemently in a tiny, stuffy, non-air-conditioned bachelor pad. Her two-week challenge had begun, and her new home was above a coffee roastery. The smell was brutal. She didn't know what was worse: opening the window or closing it. She'd left it open while comparing what she had at her disposal with the photo of Antonio from two weeks earlier. At least, thanks to his friend, he knew what the challenge would entail. Since Antonio had been sent to Milan, Stavros assumed he'd be sent to Greece. And there he was. He didn't mind losing the yacht. Besides, Sebastien's grand gesture was something he could do, too. He'd jumped off so many cliffs and airplanes that he shouldn't have hesitated to step off the ferry that had taken him to the island where he was born. But he had done it. And it seemed to him that he was a coward. He'd forced himself to disembark and walk to the apartment, where, like Antonio, he'd discovered he'd been given a prehistoric cell phone and two hundred euros. However, while Antonio had been given warm clothes, he'd been given shorts. He was supposed to live two weeks without his fortune or his reputation, but it seemed he would also have to live without his dignity. At least his swimsuit wasn't like the loincloths so popular on European beaches. His uniform was tacky: white-and-yellow striped shorts with a matching yellow T-shirt. Stavros read the logo printed on it, in Greek and English, and felt offended by both: Zante, Pool Maintenance . Sebastien had told him to clean up his house and take a vacation, and had sent him to work in pool maintenance. She had three contact numbers on her phone: Sebastien's, Antonio's, and Alejandro's. She had sent Antonio a photo of what was in her apartment with a message: Is this serious? Antonio had answered him: If the result is anything like mine, there are still many surprises waiting for you. Antonio had discovered he had a son. What bigger surprise could there have been? Stavros having a child on the island would be a miracle, as he'd left at twelve and, by then, had only kissed one girl. Upon arriving in America, risky behavior became the norm. At fourteen, he lost his virginity to an older girl from his school who liked to wear black eyeliner and dark red lipstick, as well as to younger boys interested in learning how to please a woman. Her favorites were the ones always looking for a fight, and he was one of them.