BORACAY ISLAND, PHILIPPINES
Once we land in Manilla, we take a hopper flight to Caticlan, and then a short bus ride to the jetty port. Out the window, I watch locals harvest rice in the endless rice patties or pedal their bikes alongside our bus.
Finally, we arrive at the port. I step outside and I'm greeted by a gentle, sweet-smelling sea breeze. The air is moist and warm, and despite the last few days, my muscles relax. I lift my head back, gazing into the sky, a cerulean blue. Palms wave beside bamboo-thatched huts lining the edges of the sand road.
Just ahead, the ocean slices off the horizon from the harbor where we will take the fifteen-minute boat ride to Boracay Island.
"I feel like I'm a world away from home." I eye the crystal-clear water.
"Seriously. This place is incredible." Jake shoulder's the new duffle bag he bought at the airport. "Better than on TV."
"I hope you're right about this resort, hermanita," Javier says, leading the way onto the ferry. "We just spent a huge amount of MaxLife's money."
"My dad is worth any amount of money," I say.
But the reality is what if we arrive at Surfside Resort and Spa and find no leads? What if it's a dead end and here we are heading toward an island at the far reaches of Earth, hanging out at a gorgeous resort, wasting time and money?
I push those thoughts away as we settle at a table on the ferry and begin making our game plan.
"I'm thinking we should separate once we exit this boat," Javier says. When I begin to resist, he holds up his hand. "Hear me out. Whoever was following us knew which rooms we were in because they trashed Jake's room and left possibly poisonous food outside of your door. They also knew which van we would be leaving and when we were departing."
"But won't they be looking for six of us, rather than three?" I note. "And how could they possibly know we are here?"
"Maybe," Jake says. "Unless they saw us part ways at the airport."
"That's unlikely," I say. "Besides, they wouldn't let us get this far."
"Regardless," Javier says. "If Jake is correct about Zhang Lau being the owner of this place, we're entering our enemy's own territory. We need to go to the extreme to stay low-key. My suggestion is to take on alibi names and only use only cash while at the resort."
The engines for the boat roar to life and soon we're zipping across the Indian Ocean, heading for the nearby island. Though we are under a covering and sitting at a table, the wind blows across the deck, forcing us to pull in closer so our voices don't spill onto other tables.
"Here's what I was thinking," Javier says. "The two of you should be a newlywed couple and I'll be there on vacation from a business trip."
"Married?" I laugh.
"Woah, man, aren't we a little young to be married?" Jake's eyebrows lift at the suggestion.
"You are both eighteen, right?" Javier says. "So for this trip, let's say you're twenty. That's believable. You can say you were so madly in love that you couldn't wait another day to be apart."
"Why do we have to be married?" I ask. "That's ridiculous. Why not just be a dating couple?"
"Because whoever bombed us in Dhaka won't be expecting it if they follow us here," Javier says. "They'll be looking for three singles traveling together but staying in separate rooms. And they definitely won't be looking for a married couple. Plus, I'd feel better about you not being alone at night. Just keep your hands to yourself, Jake. No messing around." Javier's expression turns dark, and he glares at Jake.
I glower at him. "I'm not rooming with him." Jake has one elbow propped on the table and is grinning wickedly at me. "Look at him. He's smirking like the devil himself. Besides, I can take care of myself. I don't need to be babysat."
"I promise to keep my hands to myself." As if to prove his point, he lifts both hands in the air. "But Javier is onto something. It's safer this way. Besides, we won't be there long. A night...two at the most."
I cross my arms, eyeing the two of them.
"We'll make sure the room has a couch," Jake adds.
"Which you'll sleep on," I say.
"Which I'll sleep on," Jake repeats.
"Fine. I guess."
"Good," Javier says. "I'll try to get a room as close to you as I can. When we arrive, we need to make no eye contact. Only text messaging."
"Sounds doable," Jake says. "My main goal is to get into the main office and do some research on their system."
"I like that," I say. "Maybe we can get an idea of why Mr. Bosu came here and where this Zhang Lau might be holding my dad."
"Good," Javier says. "Once we get settled in our rooms, we'll do some surveillance and figure out when would be the best time to access the resort's files. Also, keep an eye out for a place we can meet should we have to talk in person."
The Surfside Resort and Spa is even more quaint and romantic than I imagined after seeing it in Mr. Bosu's dream. The taxi drops Jake and me off at a rounded white building tucked into a thicket of bamboo and palms. Plumeria and hibiscus grow along the stone path leading up to the front doors. I lightly touch one of the plumeria's petals, thinking how Mom would love the flowers here. Then guilt stabs me. I can't think about her right now.
"Well, darling," Jake says, a twinkle in his eyes. "Looks like we've arrived."
I roll my eyes. "You're not going to call me darling during our entire stay here, are you?"
"You mean during our entire honeymoon." He wraps his arm around my shoulder and grins down at me. "Would sugar be better?"
"Ugh." I shrug out of his arm and grab my carry-on, but I can't help but smile a little. As difficult and awful these last few days have been, having Jake here has kept me sane.
Besides, without him, I wouldn't have gotten this far in finding clues to Dad.
We traipse into the lobby of the resort where calm, lilting music is playing. A woman with long, braided black hair, wearing a traditional dress sashays over to where we are standing. She holds out a tray with glasses of juice, a wedge of orange pinned onto the edge of the rim. We both take a glass.
"Maligayang pagdating sa Pilipinas," she greets us, dipping her head in a bow before leaving.
"Thank you," we both say.
The juice is sweet and fresh. I could guzzle it in one gulp.
Jake moves up to the counter and smiling at the clerk, says, "Good afternoon, my wife and I are here for our honeymoon. We would like to get a room."
"Excellent," the clerk says. "If you will give me your credit card and passport, I will get you processed."
"We'd like to pay in cash in advance," Jake says, and I pull out a stack of US dollars. "And Laura, my wife, is rather famous and would like our names to remain anonymous. This would be our gift to you for keeping it quiet."
"Oh!" His mouth widens into a big O shape when Jake passes him a couple of hundreds. "A movie star. Of course. I can absolutely accommodate you."
"Great." Jake beams and then pulls me in close and wraps his arm around me possessively. This time I smile and play my part.
"You'll be wanting one of our special rooms for newlyweds," he says with a wink.
"Well, we are newlyweds." I bat my eyes up at Jake. "Aren't we, sugar cakes?"
"Err..." Jake says, clearly flustered. "Yes. Definitely."
"Excellent." The clerk prints out a receipt once Jake pays for the room. Then he passes over an old-fashioned metal key, the layout of the hotel, and a printout of the daily activities for the week. "Your bungalow is just out these doors and down the path on the right. It is number five. Congratulations!"
"Bungalow?" Jake questions.
"Thanks!" I take the handouts and key. "You get the bags, sweet cakes."
"No problem, darling," Jake says and trails after me.
I refer to the map as I meander my way out of the lobby, taking in the natural wood floors and walls, and cream-cushioned furniture. When I step outside, the area is oddly familiar. A bamboo-roof pool bar sits on a huge deck area with white umbrella tables. A pool glistens a bright sapphire with guests swimming in it while others sunbathe on lounge chairs. Palms and pockets of flowers are tucked along the perimeter to provide the feeling that we've been transported to paradise.
"This was one of the areas that Mr. Bosu ran through in his dream," I say excitedly.
"Except there aren't tangled vines and fences," Jake points out.
He's right. There are only beautiful gardens here and a band is playing fun, carefree music by the bar. Beyond the pool area, lies the beach and ocean. The sky is already hugging the water in a swirl of pinks, oranges, and purples.
"This place," I say, breathlessly. "It's so romantic."
"Too bad we can't enjoy it."
My face blushes bright red at his inference. I quickly refer to the map again. "Looks like the bungalows are in that tree area by the beach."
We discover the line of huts propped up on small piers over pearl-white sand. I clamber up the steps of Bungalow 5, insert the key in the lock, and step inside. A giant king-sized bed fills nearly the entire room. To the right is a chaise and a dresser where I set down the papers the clerk gave me. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room with a Jacuzzi tub, glass-walled shower, and a vanity with silver, fluted edging. Vases filled with fresh-cut plumeria are scattered about the room, their smell intoxicating, and a bowl of assorted exotic fruits that I have no idea what they are rests on the bedside table.
Jake whistles as he ventures inside, dropping the bags by the door. "This place is sweet." His eyes make a quick scan of the room, but when his gaze lands on the giant bed, his face flushes. My face burns over the situation we have gotten ourselves into.
"So this is your room." I tease and point to the bathroom, trying to lighten the tension.
"Hilarious." He leans against the doorframe, his hair falling into his eyes. More than anything I want to go and wrap my arms around him. "How about you take the tub and I'll take the bed?"
We stare at each other for a moment. The memory of our brief kiss in Bangladesh is at the forefront of my mind. What would it be like to kiss Jake without holding back? To let go of all my inhibitions and tuck my body into the folds of his arms. Since our last kiss, I've dreamt of kissing him more times than I'd like to admit. Dreams are always wild, but they're fleeting, a tease of what reality holds.
An expression crosses his face. Is that yearning? Desire?
"Maybe we can decide later," Jake finally says, looking away.
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Good idea."
What is wrong with me? I need to stay focused on our plan and finding my dad. Not mooning over a classmate I hardly know.
"We should've gotten two rooms." I cross my arms, hating how uncomfortable this all is, and yet even more so how the idea of being here with Jake sends shivers of excitement through me.
Jake picks up a piece of fruit from the fruit bowl and takes a bite of it. "Not bad."
"I'm starving. How about we freshen up? I could really use a shower after that explosion. I feel so grungy, and the airport bathroom just doesn't cut it. Then we could go have some dinner."
"Sounds great to me." Jake throws himself on the bed, leaning against the pile of fluffy pillows with a sigh.
"That's my bed you're getting dirty."
He takes another bite of the fruit. "A little dirt won't hurt these sheets."
I huff and march over to grab my bag before locking myself in the bathroom. Having a hot shower transforms me into a new person. When I change clothes and finally exit the bathroom, I feel as if I've escaped the horrors of the bomb.
Almost.
When I step into the cool air-conditioned room, the lights hadn't been turned on and the glow of sunbeams cascades through the slatted blinds. Outside, waves crash against the beach, and the fan above whirls. It's so peaceful.
Jake is fast asleep, his chest rising and falling, fruit still in his hand and resting on his chest. My heart pangs for him. Seeing him this way, he looks different. Less guarded. Vulnerable. I pad to the bed and slide next to him, wondering if I should wake him or let him sleep.
I trace the lines of his face with my finger, noticing each freckle, the scruff growing on his chin from not shaving, the indent of his earlobe. The smooth curve of his lips.
No. Do not look at his lips!
I shake his shoulder. We need to get some food and do some surveillance. This isn't a vacation, after all.