Deborah finished cleaning up the kitchen, gathered her old clothes and pyjammas and stuffed them into a plastic bag. She went to the bathroom door and called to Grace in the shower.

"I'm off, Grace. I have to do some work at the hotel, I am a partner, regardless."

Grace turned the water off and stuck her head out. "Listen, Deb. Last night was great and I won't say it didn't stir some thoughts but I think we should give it a pass. You need to be with Gordon and I think you know it."

"I'm glad you brought that up because I was going to say that my adventure into that area has been satisfied. I really enjoyed it as well but it's not for me in the long term. As for Gordon, well, there's nothing tying us together in that way. We have the business and we get along well running it so let's leave that as an open door yet, okay?"

"That's your business, Kiddo. See you later, take care."

"You too, Grace. Love."

Deborah took her plastic bag and let herself out into the rear parking area to her car. When she pulled into the parking lot she saw the locksmith's van and wondered what was wrong now. Something Gordon couldn't handle obviously. She came through the back onto the patio and saw the workman on one knee doing something at the glass door of one of the suites.

"What's going on?" She asked Gordon without any preamble.

"Welcome back," he said sarcastically. "This gentleman locked himself in the room and we're trying to get him out."

The locksmith looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "We?"

The man in the room was pounding on the door, his face redder than if he'd spent the day in the sun. Gordon was waving and bobbing about trying to keep him calm.

"How long has he been in there?"

"Since nine-thirty."

"My God, that's over two hours. Why can't you open it?" She said to the locksmith.

"I can, the problem is the door's jammed for some reason and that I can't seem to fix."

Deborah looked at the door, at the raging bull behind the glass and then at the track. She bent down and pried something out of the track and pulled on the door. It slid back like melting butter.

"What the hell!" Gordon stared. The locksmith stared, and Mark came through the opening as if catapulted. Arms flailing, lips pulled back in a crazed rictus, he powered past the group and before he could gain control, plummeted into the shallow end of the pool, showering his wife with water. She screamed and jumped out of the lounge and trod on the top of her huge hat, crushing the straw permanently.

"What was it?" The locksmith asked.

Deborah handed him the screw she'd seen and took her bag of clothes to the laundry area.

"I'll be damned." He chuckled and put it in his pocket. I'll get the bill ready he said, sauntering up to the office, ignoring the man sitting in the shallow end with water up to his nose.

Gordon helped Mrs. Mark pick up her wet hat and book and watched her totter off to the room, the wet spots on her bikini very revealing. He glanced down at Mark in the pool and figured the man wouldn't slip under and drown so he went to the office.

"You didn't fix the whole thing, Deborah did." Gordon complained, looking at the charge.

"Time is money, Gordo." He chewed a toothpick. "Weird one though, eh? He musta tried yanking it open and jammed the latch. Then he broke it off. Christ, he was some mad, eh?'

"Yeah. I'm gonna hear about that later too." He wrote out a check and handed to the locksmith.

"Thanks pal. Catch you again." The office door closed and Gordon went through the house and out to the laundry.

"That was pretty snazzy, finding that screw."

"It must be a girl thing, looking for what doesn't seem sensible."

"I wonder how it got there?"

Nita dragged the vacuum around the corner and stopped as she saw Deborah and Gordon standing in the laundry.

"Somethin' wrong with this machine." She said. "The thingy on the bottom keeps flappin' loose."

Gordon took it and lifted it onto the folding table. "Shit."

"What?"

"Screw's missing." He looked at Deborah and then at Nita.

"What did you do with it?"

"Locksmith took it. I'll have to try and find one that will fit. Son-of-a-bitch."

"Don't you go blamin' me, Mr. Hardy. I just vacuumed the room like I always done."

"I can imagine." He carried the vacuum inside and left the women alone.

When Deborah came in he was sitting on the sofa with the TV on and the sound off. A woman was whipping something brown in a large bowl while she told the camera something. Bits splattered on her apron and she lifted her head and laughed, pointing the big spoon at the audience.

"Have a nice time last night?"

"As a matter of fact." She looked out at the patio and watched the man clamber slowly out of the water and flop on a lounge. A moment later, his wife came out and stood over him, hands on hips, and looking angry. He pushed at the air with his hand and she bent down, said something in his ear, and stomped back to her room.

"What did you do?"

"The girls all went out for dinner and then we went to Santa Greco for drinks afterward."

"El Greco. The stud hut." His voice was a mix of snide and hurt.

"You said it. Some of those guys are so hot." She wet a finger and touched her leg, hissing."

"Must have been to be out all night." He used the remote to kill the TV and went into the office.

"If you must know, I spent the night with Grace. I figured you be like this and I didn't want to ruin what had been a fun evening with the girls."

"Have you had any lunch?" He asked from the office.

"No."

"Want me to order something or . . .?"

"I'll make something." She went to the kitchen; any defensiveness she had prepared slid away leaving her feeling a little guilty about Grace.