And then…
What do we want most in life?The things that ignite our wildest imagination or the things that ping our deepest longings?
You’d think a woman who lives her life as a rolling stone would go with the daring option each and every time.But lately I’m not so sure anymore.Maybe I want more than I think I want.Maybe the safe choice for me is the crazy option.
Who am I really, a woman who comes from nowhere and is willing to head anywhere?
I still don’t have the answer.
So I push away from the table and go in search of a total stranger whose problems somehow seem easier to solve than my own.
CHAPTER 19
THEVENTANACANYONLUXURYRESORTand Spa definitely takes the “luxury” part of its name seriously.Daryl and I depart Bart’s already impressive estate to wind higher and deeper into the mountains.Basically, we exit his over-the-top wrought-iron gate to drive by even larger, more impressive entrances to private abodes, each doing their best to out-money their neighbors with their increasingly elaborately executed demands for others to keep out.
Based on real estate alone, money flows up in Tucson, and at a staggering rate.
Daryl and I are suitably awestruck as we finally roll between two towering, hand-carved granite formations that appear to both melt into the landscape and command high dollar at the next auction for modern art.
I wonder what this is like for the resort’s refugee employees.Some of whom came from such rough circumstances that this must seem incredibly wasteful, while others, such as Sabera, whoprobably vacationed at the Afghan version of hot spots, must experience it as salt in the wound—oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Good news, Bart’s crazy expensive black sedan blends right in as we cruise through the entrance gate/artistic statement.Immediately we behold a sprawling three-story complex, constructed of pink adobe cubes that make it appear to be at one with its mountainous backdrop.Based on the fact no one would ever choose this layout for their actual home, I’m willing to believe some top-notch architectural firm was paid an obscene amount of money for a Lego-like design Nageenah’s toddler son could’ve managed.
Daryl doesn’t speak so much as cluck his tongue.I get it.
The wide main road curves up to the front gates of the largest building—the main hotel/spa/resort structure.Four other vehicles are already queued up for pickup/drop-off under the misted portico manned by three red-jacketed valets wielding bottles of water.All the easier for us to bypass and continue deeper into the property as if we have every right to be there.
We pass a pro shop bordering the first eighteen-hole golf course, then an impressive but not massive building that strikes me as maybe a separate event space.
We roll by more ridiculously green fairways.The sheer amount of irrigation required to maintain so much lawn… Daryl is already shaking his head.
We curve around to the rear of the property.Here we discover a long expanse of townhouse buildings, constructed in batches of five, that appear to be carved out of the hillside itself.Then, finally, a squat mound of a building with multiple doorways, protruding decks, and a designated swimming pool.I’m guessing the longer-stay apartment option.
Daryl coasts our way to the end, then pulls into the last parking spot.
“Townhouses or apartment building,” he states.
“Surprise me.”
We both peer outside, where the thermostat has already topped ninety and we can watch the heat rise off the dark asphalt in iridescent waves.
“Ready or not,” Daryl begins, as I declare, “Fuck me.”
We both push open the doors and leave our lovely air-conditioning behind.
It takes a bit to clear the apartment/long-term rental building.First we can’t access the locked gate, but instead must fuss around the beautiful manicured grounds with their mix of babbling water features, hard-core ancient saguaros (complete with personalized bios), and spicy mesquite trees while waiting for some golf-clad male or bouncy Lululemon female to return.
Daryl’s intimidating bulk and swarthy appearance actually work to our advantage.People take in his sharply tailored black suit, then my grungy attire, and immediately assume he’s a bodyguard and I’m eccentric new money.Given that makes me the power player in the couple, I’m all in.
Finally, we gain entrance.We roam a private pool complete with a waterfall and half a dozen cabana boys serving a parade of bored parents and hyper children.All the better for us to drift on past, slipping inside the building, down the lower-level hallway, then the second floor.
Unfortunately, nothing appears wrong with any of the units.Each door has its own light.Nor do any locks appear to be forced, though I’m guessing Sabera has the ability to digitize a key card for her personal use.
We exit the apartments, head for the larger townhouses.I’ve already sweated through my fancy microfiber hiking pants whileDaryl appears completely cool in his buttoned-up black suit.If I ever needed proof he wasn’t human…
The townhouses all have a few steps leading up to a front stoop.Some are kitted out with colorful planters and bright furnishings.Others are completely barren.The rentals.We hit them first.
Not the first building, but end unit second complex.Barren porch.A certain feel of benign neglect.And, ding, ding, ding, a porch light missing its bulb.
