Synopsis: A beach bum stumbles into Bikini Beach. During his stay, he offends some of the staff with his comments about the landscaping. Anya and Grandmother need to figure out what's up with the guest before he offends even more people.

This is a repost (first on BCTS) that appeared long ago on another site. The Chronology page shows where this fits in the timeline.

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Vicki sighed as she glanced one more time around the parking lot. It was after lunch, so business was slow. That made her job boring. It wouldn't have been so bad, she thought, if things either slowed down or picked up. If it slowed down, she could get some serious studying between the infrequent customers. If it picked up, she wouldn't be able to study, but she'd at least be busy enough to be distracted. Not like now. If she picked up her book to start studying, she'd get a paragraph or two into the text, and then the inevitable guest would show up. If she ignored her text, the time between customers seemed interminable.

Just as she expected, at the expected interval, she spied a figure ambling slowly across the parking lot, the figure blurred by the wavering distortion of heat rising from the hot asphalt. Still, even with that, she could tell it was a man from the way he was walking. She watched with interest as the man came closer.

As he drew nearer, Vicki sensed that he wasn't simply taking a short-cut across the parking lot. With the construction going on on the park expansion, there wasn't much of a short-cut any longer. No, she reasoned, he was coming to the park. She started to push away the boredom so she could be the happy smiling representative of the park that the boss demanded.

Vicki fought to contain her emotions as the man approached. He was a slob, she thought. Old pants, with tattered legs and a couple of holes. Fatigue pants, perhaps? A worn T-shirt with frayed sleeves. The man had an unkempt moustache and a stubbly beard, as if he hadn't shaved for four or five days. His hair was medium length, but unkempt, as if he'd made no effort to control it with a comb. He wore glasses - small round lenses in worn metal frames which seemed that they should belong to a bookkeeper, not to a beach bum. That was the phrase Vicki was searching for - beach bum. With his heavily tanned face, the guy looked like a homeless beach bum. It was impossible for Vicki to fix his age - he could have been twenty or he could have been thirty-five. She simply couldn't tell.

"Can I help you?" Vicki forced a smile as the man approached the window.

The man seemed lost in thought. "Yeah," he said simply. "A friend gave me a ticket, so I thought I'd spend a little time at your park." He handed the pass to Vicki.

Vicki groaned inwardly. She'd expected the man to be poor and unable to buy a pass, or to be put off by the membership requirements. In either case, he would have left. But he _did_ have a legitimate pass.

"Swipe the pass at the gate, then go to the men's shower on the right. After you change, remember to take a shower. Health department regulations, you know," she added.

The man glared at her, perhaps angry that she was implying something. But Vicki continued to smile sweetly. The man shrugged, then took the pass and ambled toward the gate.

**********

The girl walking down the path was so highly distracted that she bumped in to Liz, who was walking back to the Junior Life Academy to teach swimming lessons. "Excuse me," Liz said as she turned to the girl, forcing herself to be polite even when it had obviously been the girl's fault. "I didn't mean to bump into you."

"S'okay," the girl mumbled, still gazing around the path. She shook her head. "What kind of theme is this supposed to have?" she asked absently.

Liz frowned, then remembered her manners and forced a smile. "To the right is the Tropical Islands theme, where everything reminds you of a tropical paradise. To the left is the Old Man River theme, based on the old plantations and lazy rivers of the deep South."

"Hmmph," the girl snorted. "Are you sure that's what it's _supposed_ to be?" she asked caustically. She wandered off, leaving Liz standing, mouth agape, too stunned by her attitude and words to reply.

**********

Norma watched as another couple stepped to the top of the Lava Run. One of the two girls held her mat easily as she waited for her turn. The second, however, held it close to her, using it almost like a shield to hide her body. Norma smiled to herself - it was obvious that the second girl was really a guy who'd been changed for a visit to the park. When Norma gave them the signal, they flopped onto their mats and slid down the waterway.

Another pair stepped up behind them. Norma gave them a quick glance to make sure they would be okay on the ride, then she glanced down toward the bottom, watching for the 'all clear' signal.

"Hi, Norma," one of the girls called. Norma turned and looked at the smiling girl, trying to figure out who it was that recognized her.

"Don't you recognize me?" the girl asked, displaying her body like a model on the stage. She was exceptionally curvy and buxomy, with blonde hair to boot. "It's me - Greg."

"Greg?" Norma asked in a hushed voice. "Anya didn't tell me you were going to be here today."

"It's a surprise. Where is she, anyway?"

Norma shrugged. "I don't know."

The second girl sighed heavily, attracting attention. "Is it time to go yet?" she asked in an impatient voice.

Norma bit her tongue. The girl looked very unpleasant. "No. I'll let you know when it's safe," she said, guarding her words and tone.

Greg tried a different tack. " It'll only be a few seconds. You might as well enjoy the scenery while you wait."

The girl snorted again. "Why? What am I supposed to enjoy?"

Norma's mouth dropped open. "The ... tropical atmosphere," she stuttered. "It's a relaxing atmosphere."

The girl scowled. "Yeah? Well it reminds me of a tropical paradise about as much as a cactus reminds someone of a jungle. The theming really bites."

Norma sat, stunned beyond words. The girl stared at her for a moment, then saw the green flag and flopped on her mat. "It looks clear to me," she announced as she started down the slide.

**********

Jenny wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and took a long sip of lemonade. "Thanks, Belinda," she said to the girl who'd brought her the drink. Jenny was sitting on one of the verandas overlooking "Ole Man River", the lazy tubing waterway in the Wild River Fun section of the park. It was shaded, and a fan overhead turned lazily, adding a bit of breeze to the porch. With the lemonade, it was just the thing for cooling off after a hard job.

"What a dump!" a girl passing by muttered loud enough for Jenny to notice.

Jenny sprang to her feet, nearly spilling her lemonade. "Excuse me," she called to the girl as she double-timed to her side. "Did I hear you right?"

The girl stopped, then stared evenly at Jenny. "Did you hear me call this place a dump?" she asked without flinching.

Jenny scowled and nodded. There was something about this girl's attitude that bothered her. "Yeah, that's what I thought I heard."

The girl shrugged. "Well, your ears check out okay." She turned to leave.

"Wait a sec," Jenny grasped her arm lightly. "What do you mean? Don't you like the rides? Do you have some complaints?"

The girl sized up Jenny as a fighter sizes up an opponent. "You work here or something?"

"Or something."

"You responsible for the theming and atmosphere?" the girl asked bluntly.

Jenny stiffened. "No. I'm the one who makes the rides run. You got a problem with the rides?"

The girl laughed, surprising Jenny. "It's not your fault, then." She turned and marched off, leaving Jenny stunned in her wake.

**********

Anya poked her head into the office. "Grandmother," she called, "we've got a problem."

The old woman looked up from a trade journal. "You mean the 'guest' making all the rude comments?"

Anya nodded, half smiling. "I thought you said your magic was rusty and useless."

The old woman smiled. "I'm getting practice keeping up with you." She looked impassively at Anya. "So?"

Anya smiled. "I think I’m going to find this guest and have a chat with her. Find out what her complaints are."

Grandmother nodded. "Before she upsets the whole clientele?"

"Yup." Anya ducked back out the door and walked briskly toward the park. Without pausing to think, she turned toward the Tropical Lagoon; her magic was guiding her steps toward some unseen disturbance. As she walked, she considered what the staff had reported to her. The guest was extremely caustic in her comments about the park. Anya had to figure out how to defuse the client's apparently bad attitude.

Her steps took Anya to the lagoon, a large body of water surrounded by white beach, lounge chairs, and palm trees. Among the palm trees were hung many hammocks - the clientele seemed to love the feel of the hammocks swaying in the breeze. Anya slowly approached one of the hammocks.

"Hi," Anya said as she approached the girl. "Are you enjoying your stay at our park?"

The girl lowered the top of a magazine she was reading and peered over her sunglasses at Anya. She shrugged visibly. "It's okay - considering."

Anya felt annoyed by the way the girl was acting - so superior and snotty. "Considering - what, may I ask?"

The girl stared evenly at Anya for several seconds. "I suppose you work here, too."

Anya nodded. "My grandmother owns the park. I help her manage and operate it." She saw the girl frown. "And we do our best to make it the best water park in the country."

The girl shrugged. "Well, you're not doing a very good job, then, are you?" She disappeared behind her magazine.

Anya took a deep breath. This girl's attitude was downright hostile. "If you don't mind my asking," she said, forcing herself to remain calm, "it would help us improve the park if you told us precisely _where_ you found it ... lacking."

The girl looked back over the magazine. "Are you serious? You want to hear what I think is wrong?"

Anya nodded. "How can we make it better if we don't listen to our customers?"

The girl laughed. "That's a new one. Listening to customers!" She shook her head. "Okay, then, I'll tell you what I _know_ is wrong. Your theming sucks."

Anya drew back as if struck. "Excuse me?" she asked, not sure if she'd heard the girl correctly, but knowing inwardly that she had.

"The theming sucks," the girl repeated. "It bites. It's inadequate. It's sloppy. It destroys the setting. Okay?"

Anya clenched her teeth. This girl's attitude was beyond annoying - it was getting downright irritating. "Grandmother hired the best construction company to build the park."

The girl laughed. "It's not the construction. It's the atmosphere." She saw the puzzled look on Anya's face. "It's the final touches, the details, that make or break the theme and mood. And you've got the details wrong. It looks fake."

Anya frowned. "Funny, but you're the first patron who's complained about the atmosphere."

The girl laughed again. "Probably because you haven't had any professionals visit the place."

Anya started to answer, but she stopped short and her eyes narrowed. She ... sensed ... something. "You're talking about the landscaping, aren't you?"

The girl smiled. "Took you long enough to figure it out. Which is why you didn't see it. You're oblivious to the obvious. And I bet you were going to brag that the theme park association or whatever the hell is the trade group has recognized your park for having outstanding rides and character, right?"

Anya nodded and pulled a nearby chair closer. "So what makes you an expert on landscaping?" she asked as she sat down. "And what do you think is wrong?"

The girl sighed. "Look at these trees. Palm trees, right?" Anya nodded. "But they are species indigenous to North America, not to the tropics, and especially not to the Pacific islands. There should be some coconut palms in the mix, too. But you don't have any." The girl glanced up at Pele's Mountain, the hill which held the rides. "Look at that so-called mountainside. It doesn't look anything like a tropical mountainside. Where are the exotic plants? Where are the orchids and bromeliads?"

Anya frowned. "We've got the wrong climate here," she protested. "This isn't a tropical island. Just a facsimile."

The girl shook her head, sighing. "Typical attitude of a suit. Even if you're wearing a bikini instead of a suit." She took a sip of her drink. "Whoever did this didn't spend any time thinking about the climate and the plants. It's so _simple_!" she spat. "There are dozens of tropical species from all over the Pacific islands which could _thrive_ in this park. If you only took the time to find them, design the landscaping properly, and take care of them."

Anya frowned. "This is a water park, not a greenhouse. If we spend all our money on landscaping, we'll end up out of business."

"Typical suit," the girl sneered. "Watch the bottom line first, and save a few bucks by cutting corners at the customers' expense."

Anya took a deep breath to control her rising frustration and anger. "Who the hell are you anyway?" she demanded.

The girl laughed, obviously unafraid of intimidation tactics and bullying. "No one important. Just a _girl_ out for a day of fun."

"Well, it sounds like you're not having a very good time if the park is so poor, then."

The girl stopped, then she looked at Anya and smiled. "You're good," she observed, "but I'm not going to fall for that one."

Anya closed her eyes for a moment and reached out with her senses. The girl watched her, wondering what was going on, as a knowing smile slowly spread on Anya's face. Anya opened her eyes again. "Are you really happy, Trevor J. Farrington the fourth, bouncing from odd job to odd job, living the part of a homeless beach bum?"

The girl started, then she smiled and began to laugh. "I should have expected something like this. I mean, I come to a water park and I get changed into a girl. So why shouldn't the staff read minds, too?"

Anya drew back, startled. "You're ... very unique."

The girl smiled. "You mean weird?"

"Touche," Anya nodded. "Not like most people I know."

The girl shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, I guess."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't really care, and no one really cares about me."

Anya frowned. "You mean, no one cares about what _you_ want."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"But ... you're content? Even now, after being changed into a young lady?"

The girl started - a tiny bit. "Yeah, I guess so. I wander around, I do what I want. I guess it's okay." She sighed. "I didn't want all that stuff. I didn't want the money, or the mansion with the maid and chauffeur. I didn't want the ritzy schools. I didn't want the executive job in Dad's company."

"So, what did you want?"

The girl laughed bitterly. "That's funny. After all these years, would you believe that's the first time anyone asked me what _I_ want?" She looked curiously at Anya. "You want to finish? Or should I?"

Anya raised an eyebrow. "It's your story." This girl was getting less predictable by the moment. Truth be told, almost nothing could have distracted Anya from hearing the rest of the girl's story.

"Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your so-called friends are only treating you nice because of your family's money? What it's like to feel like you're in a glass cage, on display?" The girl sighed. "I _know_ that I was popular in school, but only because of Dad's money. I went to expensive schools, hung out at the country club, met the right people. But you know what? I never really cared. My folks hated the people I liked. They thought I should have friends named Ashton and William - not Rocky and Bubba." She took a sip from her glass. "I just didn't want to go to college, settle down in a smothering world, marry Buffy and have the requisite 1.85 kids, drive a Mercedes or Lexus, hang out at the yacht club and country club, and then die in a suit on the top floor of a corporate prison." She shook her head. "Does that sound like living to you?"

Anya shook her head. "Not really."

The girl cocked her head to one side. "You seem to be awfully interested in my life. Why?"

Anya smiled. "You're one of the more fascinating people I've met in ... oh, a long time. Not everyone has the courage to say no to pressure from their parents and peers."

"I dropped out of college and joined the army." The girl laughed. "I bet Dad nearly had a heart attack."

"And?"

The girl shook her head. "I hated it. The discipline wasn't bad, but I had to fight. I ... had to kill some people." Her words tailed off, and a haunted look appeared in her eyes.

"Oh." Anya didn't know what else to say.

The girl recomposed herself, seemingly upset at her momentary lapse. "I deserted. Dad's money and political connections fixed that. I went back to college, then I dropped out again. I've been wandering ever since."

Anya frowned. "But what about your folks? Don't they wonder about you?"

The girl laughed again, a bitter hollow sound. "They don't really care about me. Only about their image." She shook her head. "Every so often, one of their spies comes around to find me. That's when I move on." She smiled. "You know, I like living for myself, free and easy and unattached."

"Nobody's puppet, you mean."

"Yeah," the girl laughed. "I like planting and growing. Whenever I need some money, I can find some work gardening or tending a nursery. Growing things, not destroying them."

Anya winced. The time in the army still hurt; it was a deep festering unhealed wound. "So now what?"

The girl frowned. "I don't follow."

"What do you do now? You need food, money. Even a hermit has to eat. What are you going to do now?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Things seem to take care of themselves."

Anya knew she had to play this just right. Despite the girl's attitude, there was much troubling her. "You told me that the landscaping is wrong. I could get you some work laying out some better landscaping. Especially for the new area we're adding."

The girl shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a corporate stooge."

Anya smiled. "We're not exactly your typical corporation. Not unless magically altering customers has become the norm for corporations."

The girl frowned. "It might work out. But only part time." Then her frown deepened. "What about my folks? I'm not sure you want to deal with his lawyers and hired political guns."

At that moment, the old woman walked up and eased herself into a chair. "I think I've got some tricks and allies that can deal with your father's resources."

The girl started, but Anya's smile reassured her. "I'd like to introduce my grandmother, who owns this park."

The girl cautiously extended her hand. "Hi," she said simply.

Grandmother shook her hand. "Since you know we can read minds, you shouldn't be surprised that I was kind of listening in." She smiled. "So what about it? Do we have a deal?"

The girl thought for a moment, then she shook her head. "No. It's about time for me to move on - before the next spy comes to report on me."

The old woman smiled slyly. "What if we could arrange that your father's spies never found you again?"

The girl looked puzzled for a moment, then she frowned. "You mean - make this," she glanced down at her feminine body, "permanent?" She shook her head. "Isn't that kind of ... extreme?"

"Maybe. Or not. Depends on how you look at it." The old woman smiled. "So far, it seems that you're not too disturbed at having been changed."

"Yeah," the girl observed, "but I figured it was temporary. I don't know how, but that seemed ... logical ... to me." She saw the answering nod. "But permanent?"

Anya nodded. "You'd get a chance to start over. A whole new life, without being chased. You could do whatever you wanted."

The girl looked thoughtful for a moment, then she slowly shook her head. "I'm not sure. I guess ... I don't think so."

The old woman nodded slowly. "It's your choice."

Anya glanced at her grandmother, surprised. "But ... " She stopped when she felt Grandmother's hand on her arm. "Would you consider spending a few days to help us with the landscaping?"

The girl looked at her for several seconds. "Let me think about it. I'll let you know before I leave tonight." She rose from her hammock and strode slowly into the warm water of the lagoon.

Anya shook her head. "I don't understand. It was everything she wanted - to be free of her past, to start over."

The old woman sighed. "No. To her, it would be running away again." She shook her head. "Did you notice something? When she came to the park, she was belligerent, even arrogant?"

Anya nodded. "Yeah." Her brow furrowed. "But then, when she realized I was really _listening_ to her, she changed."

The old woman nodded again. "I would guess that Trevor's parents, for all they gave him, never gave him the time to _listen_ to him. When she realized that you were actually interested in what she was saying..." Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. "She's a very troubled girl. She needs to heal herself."

Anya frowned. "You ... aren't going to try to ... persuade her?"

The old woman recoiled. "Anya! I thought you were the one who kept telling me that _I_ couldn't interfere!"

Anya sighed. "I know. But ... he needs some tranquility. Some peace. Some ... freedom."

The old woman nodded. "He's a very troubled person. We can't make him accept what _we_ think is best. That's what you say, isn't it?"

Anya nodded sadly. "Yeah. I guess it is. But ..."

Grandmother sighed. "It's hard sometimes. To know you can help, but to let the person choose to not be helped." She stood. "You've been teaching me well, young lady. Now, what do _you_ see?"

Anya closed her eyes for a moment to focus. "He'll help us with the landscaping," she said softly, "because nice peaceful gardens are important to him. Even if he doesn't stay to enjoy the tranquility himself. Then he'll move on - as Trevor. Just like he always has." She shook her head as she watched the girl swimming lazily in the pool. "Ironic, isn't it? He is so determined to make a peaceful garden for others, when he needs it so much more himself."

Grandmother nodded slowly. "It's not for us to understand."

FIN