A View of The Lair Through a Cabana Boy's Eyes

posted by Joanie T

The place was a mess.

Not a surprise since his employers had held another one of their launch parties, Ricco thought, as he lifted another batch of margharita glasses from the industrial dishwasher. He set them down on the far end of the bar, picked up his Egyptian linen cloth and began polishing. The Banditas were very particular about spots.

Morning duty was a mixed blessing really. Lots to get in order; sweeping up debris, blender checks, chandelier repair. All work and little fun. He knew there was lots of exciting stuff going on in The Lair. Had to be with these creative types. Their imaginations are limitless and a little scary. He'd seen the looks on the party event staff's faces; befuddled, euphoric and occasional out right shock. Yep, those crews had the hardest job. Keeping the Banditas and their Buddies well stocked with an endless variety of alchoholic concoctions was a challenging task. Not to mention snacks, music, dancing lessons. Those conga lines were killers.

Maybe he should have taken that job at the post office.

A smile tugged at his lips. Nah, that would have been the polar opposite of this job. Day in day out sorting of envelopes vs. constant partying and never knowing what would happen next, which Bandita would require personal assistance. To be called by one of the Banditas? THAT was a coveted job.

Ricco glanced down from the bar situated on the mezzanine level of The Lair. He’d been told when hired by that fiery red headed Bandita JoMama that this was a club for a sedate, demure ladies group.

Hah!


There was more to it than that and his suspicions were being proven everyday. He was a second level cabana boy. He supposed he should be offended by being called a boy but when that Cassondra said it—purred it—he didn’t mind…even when she sashayed around all armed and ready. He knew weapons and that Bandita was lethal.

The required uniform…if black pirate pants and loose cotton shirts could be called that…and the daily mandatory workouts supervised by the Bandita known cryptically as AC were a bit much but hey, he liked keeping in shape.

He barely kept the Waterford flute in his hands from crashing to the floor at the loud crack coming from the exercise room. Ok, so that crop was concerning.

Nope, the Lair was definitely not your average club. For one thing it spread out in multi levels deep into the earth, up a mountain and he suspected had secret tunnels to the ocean. You had to be high level among the crews to descend into the depths. He swept his gaze over the gauze draped party room below. Oh, yeah, he wanted to advance.

Several of the third level guys were sweeping the floor which was a challenge as there were still Banditas and BB’s recovering from the last launch party for “Dark and Deadly.”
Ricco laughed out loud. Yeah, that about summed it up the world of The Lair.

The central floor area had a handful of silk covered chase lounges in a rainbow of colors. He recognized Duchess Hotdayum and Duchesse Snorkdom from the uninhibited way they were sprawled on the furniture with their pinkies crooked out. No etiquette involved there rather it was their trademark “C’mere cabana boy” signal. He smiled to himself. He’d been privileged to that before.

In the far corner that tall guy, Sven was working on his eighteenth massage. Poor guy looked exhausted but Ricco didn’t miss the heat in his eyes when he looked at that Aussie Christine. Even from up here, he could hear her murmur something about a "Wicked Little Game." It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Sven's frequent “Da’s” didn't just mean "Yes, Mme."

Ricco heard a rumble of thunder and cast a wary look to the balcony suspended in the air by what looked like clouds. He’d never figured how they did that but he wasn’t about to ask the goddess who was stretched out on it—on a cloud? This Bandita meant business with a capital B. He made a hasty check of the sangria, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the cabinet well stocked with her favored tropical blend. A shiver of excitement shot down his spine when he found her studying him with those midnight blue eyes. Not always good to gain her attention, not with those mammoth gladiators guarding her like Ft. Knox gold.

Caught in her gaze, he almost missed the one named Demetrius lifting his shield in silent salute to the Duchesse. The subtle nod they exchanged made his brows raise.

“Are you ready to par-tay?”

Ricco’s attention snapped back the hallway. No Hank Williams Jr. but a trio of Banditas rushing into the bar. Susan, Beth and Kirsten. Sweet, angelic smiles…and a glint in their eyes that set his nerves on edge.

“Plenty of wine, strawberries, mangos for the margaritas?” This from the one called Tawny or “Blaze” as she was nicknamed sauntering in behind them. Ricco cleared his throat at the sultry look she sent him, almost losing another glass.

“Don’t forget the appetizers,” called the Texan Bandita Suz. Ricco narrowed his eyes. Was that a rope she was twirling? Her avid gaze swept over him. His mouth went dry.

“Mimosas,” trilled Kate as she swept by with her witchy friend. “Don’t forget the mimosas. And appletini's. My guest needs appletinis!”

Ricco’s eyes widened at the woman riding a small dragon swooping in from the doorway. “Diet Coke for me,” called Nancy. She waved at Trish who’d just driven in with another multi-contracted deal with Donna and Christie. Those two called most of the cabana boys “Duke.” Strange.

The boys below were scurrying to finish the clean up directed by a tall, lithe Bandita with a brilliant smile and a gorgeous Chico’s jacket. She glared up at the goddess. “Don’t even think about it.”

Man, they were all here. Anna with those hockey hunks which he could take in a minute if it weren’t for those sticks, the other Anna from Oz who could barely carry all her awards but was still calling for a scotch on the rocks and cherry ripes and Tim Tams. Dang, the shipment of those hadn't arrived yet.

He was jotting down a note to rememdy that when a sultry voice asked, “Got anything, cold?”
Ricco raised his head at the murmured voice to stare at the elusive KJ. “I’ve just arrived from an expedition and..” She raked him with her hot gaze. “I’m thirsty.”

Ricco gulped.

“I’ve got turtles!” chirped frequent guest PJ.

“Eat ‘em fast,” said the dude in BDU’s as he checked the perimeter. “Me and my boy gotta get the place fastened down.”

He shook his head at the rooster following the guy around with a rucksack strapped to his back.

A flash of light caught Ricco in the eye as more guests began to arrive. It was a never ending party in this place, he mused as he broke out more ice. No other job like it.

“Cabana boy?”

He looked down at the Duchesse who crooked her finger at him.

Ricco grinned. Nope, no other job like it in the world.

While Ricco is busy…er, at his job. Who else is arriving today for the party? Any other cabana boys out there?