| Straight: Celebrity: Seeing John 4: Island of Desiree 2 (1/8) |
 4 votes |
|||
Share This Story: BlinkList - del.icio.us - Furl - ma.gnolia - Spurl - Yahoo MyWeb - StumbleUpon |
||||
|
That afternoon John and I hopped another plane and a boat, which had me seasick, much to John’s amusement. “You have a serious fear of water, don’t you?” he asked me as he put cold compresses to my head. “It’s really bad,” I sighed apologetically. “My sis took me to see Jaws when I was four. My mom thinks I’ve been traumatized ever since. I‘m not sure, really.” “Well, I’ll be sure to get you some pills for the way back,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “I will feel better as soon as we reach land,” I told him. “It’ll go away within an hour if I don’t move anymore.” He kissed my nose, and I chuckled, “Sorry.” The boat pulled into the beach, and we could see huts in the distance, one larger than the rest off to the right. Gold sand gave way to green trees and lush hills beyond that. It was pretty, and once again, I was committing things to memory. John looked at me as I pulled my pack onto my back. “Need help?” “I’m okay.” I struggled with it, but then it finally evened itself out. He frowned. “The hell you put in there?” “The essentials,” I nodded. I had put together my own survival kit, and hoped it would be enough. As we neared the huts we saw a few people already there. They looked like they just arrived, too. There were four couples, including us. Two couples looked like fish out of water, while one couple were about our age and looked up to task, at least physically. A man emerged from the largest hut. He stood a few inches taller than John and was at least twenty-five pounds more muscle. His eyes were gray—silver when any light hit them, and his thick black hair fell past his shoulder blades. He wore black military pants and boots, sporting a bare chest that even John would have to respect. He stood proudly and expectantly on the veranda of his house. Everyone gravitated toward him like a pack to its leader. John and I hung back and looked on. “Good afternoon,” the man’s voice was deep. “Welcome to the Island of Desiree. I am Draco Donovan, your guide…and leader.” His eyes rested on us, why I didn’t know. I shifted uneasily as he smiled at us. “I enforce the rules, help with problems and concerns, and if needed, issue orders in emergencies. I will also coordinate activities if we have time.” He paused and smiled, more at the ladies it seemed. “Now, your living arrangements. The first hut belongs to Chief and his mate. The second belongs to Leo and his. The third belongs to Sir Jeremy. And by request, the fourth, to Lord John and his.” I looked at John, who pursed his lips in displeasure at being singled out. “Take time to settle in, and look around. Food is being brought in for your first night on the island,” Draco went on. “We will have a spread out here for you. Dinner is at sunset. Thanks.” John led me to the last hut. It was basically two rooms—a bedroom and front room separated by a dark curtain. The |
  |