ALICE Ch 325

“Dear god,” Clarkson murmurs gravely. His eyes are serious, and his expression is grave. “It’s like a Bugati Veyron beside…”

“Another Bugatti Veyron,” Richard Hammond replies, equally intent.

“Budge, you bloody idiots.” James May crowds in from the side. The three of them peer through the window. Across the spa area is a hot tub, and Glynda Darcy is sitting in it. Her bikini is conservative, but that hardly matters when this sort of… engineering is on display.

“Reckon we’ve a chance?” Clarkson murmurs.

“Don’t even joke,” Hammond chides him at once. “We shouldn’t even look. They’re pretty young.”

“Glynda’s not,” Clarkson retorts.

“Don’t let her hear you say that. I heard she’s mates with a load of old IRA blokes what blow torch your face off.”

“What’s she doing in there, anyway?” James May sniffs. “Tubbing with all these younger birds? Vivien Corbin sort of thing to do, isn’t it?”

Clarkson’s expression becomes pensive. He puts his hands together and narrows his eyes. “Professional development,” he says finally.

Hammond tears his eyes away from the busty blonde’s cleavage. “Mate, what’s that even mean?”

“I shall not elaborate,” Clarkson replies, very aloof.

“We should go,” Hammond insists.

“No, no. Let’s not be hasty,” May counters distractedly.

“He’s right. We have a moral obligation here,” Clarkson says sagely.

Hammond is incredulous. “We what?”

“We must watch over them. For their safety.” Clarkson grimaces at Hammond, looking almost apologetic. “This is Italy, after all. Never know what sorts of unsavory characters are lurking about these places.”

Wide-eyed, Hammond turns to May.

“He’s right,” May says without hesitation.

“What are you doing?”

They all turn, and even Hammond has to look down at the tiny figure that is Valeria Flores. She stares at them with her large, serious, unblinking eyes.

Moments pass.

“Keeping vigil,” Clarkson says finally. “Italian men are not to be trusted.”

Flores takes that in. “OK,” she says, and goes on her way.

“That girl’s not quite right, is she?” May asks, watching her go.

“She can bloody drive, though.” Clarkson turns to the window. “Hello. What’s this?”

FF1

Sun may as well not have bothered with a bikini, but Glynda’s too mature to judge based on the aggressive, pornographic skimpiness of her bathers. What Glynda can’t wrap her head around is that Sun has nothing else. No phone, no towel, no robe, no bag. Where’s her room key? She strolls across the entire spa area with herself covered by the equivalent of dental floss. Wearing something like that to swim or be in a tub is one thing, but she must have walked the halls and taken the elevator in this same state.

None of the others show any surprise at her appearance. It’s clear that she’s expected, and Sun’s body is obviously not new to them.

While Sun is skinny to the point of boniness, she still occupies space, and the tub is full. Julieta comes in tighter against Glynda’s side, and Ingrid obligingly moves closer on the other side of Lotte. Sun slides in. Lotte wiggles, then brings her arms out of the water and spreads out, putting them around Glynda and Ingrid.

Glynda raises an eyebrow. Lotte just returns her look blankly.

“Stuff went well today, Glynda,” Sun says in a businesslike way. “No problems. Very smooth. Colby’s happy.”

“That’s good to hear,” Glynda says, genuinely grateful. The information doesn’t matter, but it’s very sweet of Sun to try to put her at ease.

“Everything will be fine,” Lotte says confidently, giving Glynda a reassuring squeeze.