Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable by Emily Kimelman Read Free Book Online

a lot of questions about my drunken night with Alejandro and I needed to clear my head. I pulled on my jogging shorts, a sports bra and white tank top. Grabbing my iPod shuffle and headphones, I attached Blue to a leash and slipped out the door in my bare feet.
    It was a gorgeous day, the sun was bright, the sky that incredible blue and the Caribbean, well, it’s the Caribbean, isn’t it? I walked away from the bungalow toward the main building of the hotel letting my body get used to the idea of moving rather than drinking. I hit play on my shuffle and White Snake’s “Here I Go Again” filled my ears. I started to pick up my pace, jogging right at the line of the sea, avoiding the water but taking advantage of the hard-packed earth. Blue kept pace with me, my slow jog equivalent to his walk.
    I’ve had a lot of drinking partners, I thought, as the song made me run faster.   But none quite like Alejandro. Firstly, I’ve never sipped tequila on a suede couch with a Mayan. Let alone a Mayan who admits, but only in the strictest of confidence that his cousin is “not like other girls.” He seemed to believe that there was something unnatural about her.
    Before I could finish my thought the music picked up and I stopped thinking about Alejandro, the tequila, his couch, the case and my life. I raced past the main building of the hotel, my heart pounding against my chest as I maneuvered around children building sand castles and overweight tourists lying out, scorching their skin in an attempt to get that healthy glow.
    Blue and I were past the hotel and the crowds when my breath gave out and I had to slow down. I jogged slowly, trying to keep running but looking down at Blue, I knew that I wasn’t going any faster than a slow walk. I took huge, heaving breaths as the song faded away.
    Before the next one began I looked up and saw that I was passing Alejandro’s house. There was no one out on the patio and all of the glass doors were closed. I wondered if he was out jogging like me or if he slept in. Perhaps he was already at work. We’d arranged to meet for cocktails on his sailboat at sunset. He’d asked me toward the end of the night. And as I remembered it, looking up at his empty house, I thought there might have been a note of desperation in his voice, a plea in his eyes.
    My lungs recovered and George Michael and Queen started to play Somebody to Love . This song is hard for me to hear but I listen to it anyway. I picked up my pace leaving Alejandro’s house behind. The beach ahead of me was deserted as my feet pushed through the sand. Blue picked up his pace to keep up with me. And then the beat started and I could hear the crowd clapping. It starts soft but then builds. This version was recorded live soon after Freddy Mercuries death and you can hear the desperation in Michael’s voice. And the crowd responds, yelling back at him. All of them are pleading to find love.
    I dropped to the sand and started doing pushups, feeling the sweat dripping down my face. The burn in my arms makes it easier not to cry. It’s not that I’m so desperate to find somebody to love or that I’m so lonely I’ll start crying on the beach. It’s that prison cell he talks about. Mine is filled with images of my murdered brother and although I spend most of my time out of the cell, it still owns me and no matter how far I run or how many pushups I do, I can’t ever seem to escape.
    I rolled onto my back and started doing crunches. The sun was bright and I could feel its heat on my face. My abdominal muscles burned as I brought my chest and knees together over and over again. When I could not stand it one second longer, I ripped my headphones out of my ears, and standing up, raced toward the sea. Blue followed, his tail high with excitement. I ran through the shallows, my feet splashing water up into the air. Reaching the breakers, I dove headfirst into a wave.
    The cold water felt amazing on my hot face. I rose back to the