Crystal clear turquoise waters adorned a pristine beach made up of white sands. The peaceful lapping of the waves and the occasional bird cry was the only noise for what seemed like miles. Nearly overhead lay the sun, its harsh rays invigorating and filling an empty blue sky.

From the beach, a wooden walkway that led to multiple overwater bungalows jutted out. The bungalows themselves branched out from the main walkway and were made of light-brown wood with thatched roofs. Each bungalow had its own patio from which a shallow seawater pool was accessible.

Back on the beach, several hundred feet left from the bungalows was a lounge beach chair. The chair lay under a white umbrella upon which Archibald, in white shorts dotted with blue splotches, was laying. With one hand behind his head, the other hand held a Poco Grande glass within which a piña colada with a pineapple wedge lay untouched. Its yellow hue combined with the condensation on the glass accentuated the slightly tanned yet fair hand that held it.

Archibald’s usual neat swept back hair had become slightly messy and around his chin, a slight stubble had formed. His unkempt appearance along with the combination of tinted sunglasses, earbuds, and lax posture made it clear that Archibald was truly relaxed.

“It’s been a week since I got here, the overwater bungalow is certainly a first for me...This is just what I needed though. No people I know, exquisite scenery all around me, and as much delicious food as I want. On the topic of food, I should think about what I’m going to get for dinner. Hmm, today I think I’ll probably order myself some ornate crayfish and scallops. Ooh, and also a Mediterranean vegetable wrap to go along with it…” Archibald’s thoughts trailed off as he absentmindedly ranted to himself.

Stirring from his restful position, Archibald took a sip of his piña colada before putting it down on the ground beside him. Putting his now free hand behind his head Archibald pondered to himself over what he would set about doing later. About how he could best utilize this rare personal time.

Gazing out at the ocean’s clear waters he pondered, “Hmm, I haven’t gone fishing yet. True, it's usually illegal to fish off the resort's coast without the permission of the management. But I bet I can get them to give in…It’s simply a matter of how much it’ll cost. Maybe a couple grand? I’ll have to call…”

The concierge system at most high-end resorts and hotels was quite insane given the customer had money. Drugs, escorts, hell maybe even illegal fishing trips, you name it and you could buy it with enough money and Archibald reckoned he had enough for this short excursion.

Besides, the risk was low. Archibald doubted that events like this were rare. After all, the rich loved exotic experiences, and money was a perfect tool for that.

Deciding on it, Archibald pulled his right hand out from under his head and took his phone out of the front pocket of his shorts. Opening the resort’s online homepage, Archibald soon found the reception desk number; he quickly memorized the number and dialed it.

The phone rang a few times before the call was picked up and a feminine voice, so slightly accented that it was impossible to distinguish the origin of the accent, was heard.

“Hello, you are calling Four Seasons resort, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering If you could link me to the manager of the resort. I’m a guest here and I have something to bring up with them. Check for Alden in your system if you need to.”

“Oh, there’s no need sir. Is there anything I can help you with today? I’m sure we can fix any issues that you may have.”

“No no no, there aren’t any issues. I just have some business with the manager.”

“Alright then, I’ll connect you right away. Have a good day.”

“Mmm, you too,” Archibald tersely replied. Usually, he would talk to the concierge, but he wanted to be more cautious for a possibly illegal matter such as this.

Directly dealing with the manager would rope them both in should the transaction be made. The manager would make some hush money and the fishing trip would be funded and occur without a hitch. A win-win. Instead, if he went straight to the concierge and, no matter how unlikely, they suddenly found a righteous bone in their body, then any manner of detrimental things could happen to him. The manager had a reputation to uphold with the resort's customers, but the concierge didn’t. It paid off to be cautious, maybe not this time, but eventually, it would.

The phone rang for only a minute before it was picked up again and a congenial yet deep voice was heard.

“Hello Mr. Alden, how may I help you?”

“Straight to business, I like that,” Archibald nonchalantly remarked. Pausing briefly, “I wonder If five thousand would be enough to get myself a canoe and some fishing gear I could use to fish off the resort's shore for the day.”

“Mr. Alden,” the manager paused, “we always try our best to satisfy our customers, but this matter is…”

Archibald abruptly cut the manager off, sweetening the deal “Ten thousand.”

“Ah… the gear will be sent to your room then. It shouldn’t take more than an hour. Enjoy your trip, Mr. Alden, no one will bother you.”

“I will. Charge the payment to my tab.” Archibald hung up. The matter settled he put his phone back in his pocket and moved his hand back behind his head. “Just have to pass the time for a bit then,” he relaxedly thought. He didn't really care or put much thought in to the deal, even if it was exorbitantly expensive and basically a rip-off. He was here for new experiences that would calm his mind and he had no problem throwing away some money to get them.

Staring off at the cloudless horizon Archibald’s gaze slightly blurred as he involuntarily recalled the nightmares that he had been having every night since he had decided on this trip. He could never quite recall what happened in them. Instead, the only evidence he had of the nightmares were the puddles of sweat and near heart-attack-inducing heart rate he had when he woke up.

Getting slightly frustrated at the recollection of his lack of quality sleep Archibald’s expression turned bitter. “Fuck this recurring nightmare, I better not have some sort of mental illness. Stress has got to be the issue. I can only hope that with all this indulgence and relaxation that it goes away by itself sooner than later, I’m damn near traumatized by the sight of my bed every night.”

Thoughts focused on the matter of his nightmares; Archibald inadvertently recalled the word Vardure, his expression turning incredulous. Murmuring in his heart, “And what’s with this random fucking word. It’s the only thing I remember and all searches online just auto-correct to verdure, the fucking color of vegetation. Is my mind playing some kind of sick joke on me? Was I traumatized by grass when I was a kid or something?”

No matter how much Archibald sarcastically joked, however, the ominous and foreboding feeling that he got whenever he thought about that word was increasingly distressing. Instead of going away, the feeling had only gotten more intense. Its mere recollection made him paranoid and jumpy like he was anticipating some fatal danger.

“Enough!” Archibald mentally exclaimed, “Enough already… I need to change my train of thought.” Forcefully calming his expression, Archibald shifted his hands and grabbed his piña colada from off the sand next to his chair.

Taking a sip, Archibald distracted himself by focusing on the taste. How it was just the right sweetness. How the flavors of pineapple, creamy coconut, and rum merged seamlessly together to deliver just the right tangy sweetness with a kick of alcohol. The condensation on the glass cooling his hand, Archibald’s body slowly loosened, his worries and tension slipping away as he revealed a satisfied smile.

“This is the taste of relaxation right here,” revealing a contented smile, Archibald turned his gaze to the seemingly endless ocean and murmured, “and that’s the sight of freedom. Truly, my current worries are nothing but a drop in the ocean of life,” he thought pensively.

Stolen story; please report.

Soon Archibald had finished his piña colada and had placed the empty glass onto the sand next to him. Satisfied with the view, he pulled his gaze away from the ocean and gradually closed his eyes. He planned to sneak in a quick nap before his stuff got delivered.

The cool sea breeze in tandem with the peaceful lapping of the waves soon sent Archibald into a light nap, a limbo where the nightmares didn’t occur yet he got some semblance of restful sleep. Each slap of the waves on the shore was a metronome that dragged him deeper into sleep. The distant seabird cries a lulling song…

…

Abruptly from Archibald's earbuds, he heard “You’re getting a call from Mother, you’re getting a call from…” Archibald's eyes shot open, slightly red and clearly furious. He slammed the power button down on the phone. “Fuck! I can’t even get a good rest in!” He exclaimed mentally, his surprise and frustration seemed like a hot ball that was burning in his chest.

Calming himself down forcefully, Archibald took slow and deep breaths. “I should have remembered that I had my earbuds in,” he paused to compose himself and call back, “better be something good” he muttered under his breath.

Archibald took his phone out of his front pocket and dialed his mother back.

As soon as the phone rang it was picked up. His mother’s authoritative voice seeped through his phone's speaker immediately.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

Hearing the accusation and bluntness in her voice Archibald quickly woke up and struggled to come up with what he hoped was a believable answer. His mother was notorious for her punitive measures towards what she saw as disrespect and Archibald wasn’t looking forward to possibly having his accounts frozen in a foreign country.

“I was going to answer, It’s just that my phone was in my back pocket and I accidentally pushed the power button when I went to grab it. Anyway, I called you back immediately, so no harm no foul.”

“Mmm, anyway accept the facetime request. Your father and I are…”

Archibald stopped paying attention to her words, too relieved that his impromptu lie worked and that he wouldn’t be facing any repercussions.

“I said, did you hear me?”

Abruptly taken aback by the forceful tone, Archibald realized that he had just ignored her again. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire” he mumbled in his heart. Hoping to salvage the situation from worsening he hastily responded.

“I heard you. I’m answering facetime right now. The connection here’s bad is all.”

Archibald hastily accepted the facetime and was briefly stunned by what he saw. His father and mother were sitting next to each other at the family house in New York. He wasn’t expecting to see his father today, and certainly not with his mother. Their schedules nearly never lined up.

His mother and father looked like they hadn’t aged a day since he saw them a few months ago. How they handled the stress and long hours was both a mystery and a miracle.

His mother, Cassandra Alden, in particular, was still a stately yet beautiful brunette. Her personality showed on her face, humorless and authoritative. She carried herself with an air of importance and superiority, traits gained through a life of constant success. Standing only two inches shorter than Archibald at five foot eight, she had loomed over his early life through a mix of harsh discipline and absence.

His father, Earnest Alden, on the other hand was downright imposing. His countenance was aloof and imperious under which a deceptively cunning personality lay. His stature instead matched his countenance perfectly. Standing at six foot four, his father was the patriarch of the household, and of his company. His say was the final say in nearly all matters in Archibald’s life.

Looking at his parents was like looking in a mirror, it was uncanny. He near perfectly took after his mother’s countenance and gray eyes. From his father, he took after his imperious facial features and ambitious disposition. He was certainly their son and he had inherited all the troubles and benefits alongside it.

Archibald’s thoughts were interrupted by the gravelly and commanding voice of his father.

“Your mother’s been elected to be on the board of directors recently, this means that we will have more say in the direction of the company." His father paused, his piercing blue eyes seemed to travel through the camera, “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of how critical a time this is. You will keep yourself out of trouble and out of sight. Don’t do anything that gives her competitors an advantage. Do you understand?”

“I understand father, just look behind me. I predicted this would happen, so I had already got myself out of dodge.” Archibald lied through his teeth, he rarely kept up with his parents’ matters.

Laughing humorlessly Archibald’s father pointed at Archibald through the camera, “Don’t think I don’t know that you don’t keep up with our business. You are lazy and immature, skimping on the classes and opportunities to get ahead that our position offers you. Pathetic. If you had paid attention and pulled this move after careful observation I would have congratulated you. But instead, it was out of a lack of work ethic.”

Archibald was briefly taken aback by the insults toward his character, but the surprise quickly went away. He had gone through what seemed like hundreds, if not thousands, of lectures like this. He was beyond questioning his personality and decisions based on the insults and admonishments of his parents. Hell, if there was one thing they taught him, it was to be resilient.

Pausing, Archibald’s father took a sip from a glass of water, his countenance perfectly still, “No matter, however. Being on the board of directors is only the beginning. Your mother needs leverage over the other directors. That is where you will come in. Do you know a Mallory Sweeney, she is in the same cohort as you in university.”

Archibald's face and voice unchanged by the previous attack on his character, he calmly replied, “No, I don’t think I recall knowing a Mallory Sweeney. After all, there are thousands of kids in my year. Why? Is she someone important?”

“Yes, she is someone that you will get close to when class resumes. Find out about her parents' personal life, their business plans, habits, hobbies, and political connections. Find anything that could be used as leverage. Better yet, don’t wait until school starts. You start immediately. I’ve overlooked this outrageous waste of time you call a vacation for too long.”

Sweat pooled at Archibald's hands and back, his vacation plans on the brink of disaster. Outwardly his expression was a picture of calm, inwardly his mind was racing. “Think, think, think. How do I get out of this situation? I know my father respects independence and confrontation, but how do I twist that in my favor and get at least an ounce of leverage? Fuck it, I can only hope to lie my way out of this.”

Mentally crossing his fingers, Archibald calmly replied, “I can get close to Mallory Sweeney, but not now. No, this will be a deal. Without me, you have no chance of getting close to her,” Archibald paused to gauge his father’s reaction, he would be damned if he believed that he was the only means his father and mother could use. Seeing no reaction he continued, “Instead as a trade for me doing all the legwork, I get to enjoy the last few weeks of my summer how I like it. Besides, If I tell Mallory what you two are planning, that wouldn’t work out smoothly for you would it.” Archibald knew how paper-thin his argument was. Simply put, he had no real power in this situation. His parents controlled his funds and they had far more options than just reaching out to him.

His father dreadfully paused for what seemed like ages, seconds passed like hours. Suddenly his father broke out into a deep barreling laughter before saying, "Finally showing some spine to me! I will only overlook it this time as it shows an aspect of maturity and growth.” His father abruptly stopped laughing, his expression hardening into a cold sneer, ”Next time however, If that pitiful amount of leverage is all you can muster when speaking to me, you will say goodbye to far more than mere weeks of vacation. Do you understand?”

Maintaining his calm, Archibald nodded and replied, “Of course, I understand.”

“As you should,” His father's countenance returned to its usual indifferent and aloof state. “Your mother wishes to speak with you.” The phone was passed off to his mother.

“You heard what your father said. But what I expect is success. You will not try, you will succeed. Fail to do so and you will lose access to any funds and I will personally see to it that you don’t step a foot outside if it’s not to improve your skill in business or engage in productive work.” His mother pointed at the screen, directly at Archibald’s face. “Clean yourself up, you tarnish the Alden reputation simply by walking around. Enjoy yourself in the Maldives, you will be put to work once the school year starts.”

Still maintaining his indifferent expression, Archibald replied, “Of course I will succeed. No need to worry. I will see you then.”

“Good.” Archibald's mother hung up, and he let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Archibald reflected indifferently, used to the overbearing attitude of his parents, “What a wholesome family reunion. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they caught on to my slacking. No matter, I won’t change my plans because of it. I just have to somehow get close to Mallory Sweeney so that my freedom isn’t totally stripped from me…” His thoughts trailed off at the thought of how to accomplish this sudden goal. He wasn’t concerned about the moral implications, after all, it was business and he valued his personal freedom far more than the career of some random high-level executive and her daughter's feelings.

Closing his eyes, Archibald took a few deep breaths, trying to return himself back to a vacation mindset. Speaking out loud to himself, he reflected on what his plans were. “Ah, now I remember, my fishing trip should be possible any minute now. Just have to wait for the gear.” Archibald opened his eyes and checked his phone and saw that it was 1:54 pm. It had been almost an hour since he called the manager. “Any minute now.”

Archibald put his phone back in his pocket and returned his gaze back to the ocean and its endless horizon. Muttering in his heart, he felt a bit pensive, “Oh, to be like the ocean.” Soon, Archibald let his thoughts drift, not entirely focused on one train of thought.