3. Isla
ISLA
“You’re here!” Megan squealed as Isla rolled her suitcase through the door of the Paris Las Vegas suite.
The blast of cool, air-conditioned luxury barely eased the travel fatigue pressing behind her eyes. The suite was bright, polished, too perfect—much like the five smiling faces waiting to pounce. The replica Eiffel Tower loomed beyond the window, a gaudy reminder of exactly where she was.
Subtlety, thy name is Vegas.
Isla sucked in a deep breath and surveyed the smiling faces of “the Squad”—her five closest friends from her years at Trinity All-Girls Preparatory, the exclusive boarding school her father had shipped her off to in Connecticut during high school, when Mum had finally relented to his pestering to put her in a “place that will expand her possibilities.”
“There they are,” Isla said as brightly as possible, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stopped in the foyer.
Megan—the bride-to-be and the only reason the Squad had gotten her to agree to come to Vegas in the first place—came at Isla with arms outstretched and wrapped her in a bear hug. “I’m so happy you made it. I kept telling the girls I really, really wanted you here!”
Isla returned the hug and then looked beyond her toward the other women gathered on the couch. Somehow, if it was possible, none of them appeared to have changed. Like, at all.
They probably haven’t.
A voice from an adjoining room filled her with relief. “Is she here?” Her best friend and former roommate, Davy, hurried out, jet-black hair streaming behind her.
Even in high school, Isla and Davy had bonded over being the outsiders among their blue-eyed, blond classmates.
Both of their fathers were English, but unlike Isla’s Costa Rican mother, Davy’s mother was Indian.
They’d clung to their shared love of film and acting, a friendship that had followed them well past graduation—Isla to London’s theater and film scene and Davy to the BBC.
Isla grinned at Davy. “How’s the jet lag?”
“Oh, I have the worst jet lag,” Piper said from the couch.
Out of their group of six, Piper was always the most likely to insert herself into a conversation, though it was always harmless.
“I spent last week on the coast of Croatia, and I swear, it was exhausting coming back to Greenwich, let alone here.”
Exhausting? Must have been rough alternating between cocktails and yachts.
“Oh, Bobby and I went there last year,” Blair said, stretching back on the pristine white couch.
Even from here, the giant diamond on her hand sparkled.
That was a wedding Isla had missed. Blair and Bobby had done a destination wedding in Bora Bora— say that five times fast— where the rooms they reserved for their guests cost four grand a night.
Isla could practically feel her bank account clenching at the memory of receiving that invite.
Fortunately, running La Hacienda full-time gave Isla a better out to some of these invitations now. It was an upgrade, at least, from having to claim the poor starving actress card.
As the other girls resumed their conversation, Davy joined Megan.
The three of them exchanged a smile, and for the first time all day, Isla felt a shred of genuine excitement about this trip.
Davy and Megan had gotten her through most of the roughest parts of high school.
“I’m really so glad you could come.” Megan reached over and squeezed Isla’s hand.
“How’s the hospitality industry treating you? ”
“It’s great. Insanely busy,” Isla said. “Rainy season will be coming up in a couple of months, so things will slow down then, but it’s been a wild winter. Lots of honeymooners and special events nonstop.” She glanced back at her suitcase. “Where should I put my stuff?”
“You’re rooming with me, of course.” Davy took the handle of the suitcase. “Come on, I’ll show you where to stash everything.”
Isla followed Davy into the bedroom she’d come from, glad for the excuse to put her things away before she really faced the rest of the Squad—and their inevitable questions.
Love life?
Nonexistent.
Career?
Busy. And not her first choice, but hey—at least La Hacienda still belonged to her family.
Skincare routine?
Tears and sunscreen.
“Oh my God, I have never been so happy in my life to see your face,” Davy breathed as they stepped into the room. “If I have to hear one more word about ‘Bobby’ or tennis matches or their new diets, I might actually scream.”
Isla smiled and set her carry-on on the made bed in the room.
It had been ten years since they’d finished high school, and she hadn’t spent much time with the Squad since then.
She knew they had her back— sort of —but she had always felt.
..different to them. “How much of this bachelorette party do we all have to spend together?”
“Too much. But I’ll do my best to keep my complaints to a minimum.
” Davy sank onto the bed beside Isla’s carry-on.
“But seriously, last night. My God, Isla. We went to one of those hibachi places, and I have never been more embarrassed to be out at a restaurant with people—and that includes being with my mom, who returns every meal she gets. First, every single one of them had special, off-menu requests. Then Kelsey told the chef—after he’d already started cooking—that she had a shellfish allergy, even though she doesn’t.
She just thinks shrimp juice is ‘gross.’ That was fun. ”
She flopped onto her back.
Isla sat beside her. “Makes you wonder what we thought we had in common in high school, doesn’t it?”
Davy shook her head, pursing her lips emphatically as she scowled at Isla. “No, I know exactly what you had in common with them. You’re a trust fund baby too, even if you pretend not to be.”
“If by trust fund baby, you mean I’ll inherit some money from my father when he dies—assuming my stepmother doesn’t spend it all first—then sure, I’m a trust fund baby.” She nudged Davy. “And you’re acting like your dad isn’t Greenwich’s top plastic surgeon and your mom their top cardiologist.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me.” Davy covered her face with her hands.
“I have to hear about what an absolute disappointment I am every time I go home. If you’d just gone to medical school like we planned.
..” Davy shook her head bitterly. “My mom still wants to send me to India to become a doctor.”
“At least you’re still chasing what you love. I bailed the second I had to pick between my dreams and my mother’s.” The words sat heavy in her chest—heavier than she expected. But it felt so good to tell someone.
She couldn’t tell Callum that, of course. Callum had shelled out the money to save the inn from financial ruin when Mum had gone bankrupt. And he’d done it, in large part, to save the only childhood home that Isla had ever really known.
He’d done it for Isla, not for Mum.
But after having walked away from acting almost twenty months earlier, if she had to make the same choice all over again...would she?
She’d loved acting. Few places felt as comfortable as a stage did for Isla. Like another home, really. One I gave up. And because the film and theater worlds in London were more closely linked than they were in Hollywood, she’d seen some success in both.
Isla had been at the cusp of something, too. The audition before she’d gone to Costa Rica for Elle and Quinn’s wedding—when everything in her life had changed—had been one for a film where the producer had personally invited her.
And when the producer had called her to tell her he wanted her for the part? She’d felt like such a flake for turning it down.
Just that easily, she’d left behind a lifelong dream. She’d told herself she was all right with it—and maybe she was—but damn if she didn’t miss the excitement of creating.
Davy was quiet.
Too quiet.
Isla had seen that look before. The way Davy bit her lip, eyes just a little too shiny.
“What is it?” Isla asked gently. Davy had just started a job at the Travelog Channel—a huge promotion. “Did something happen?”
With a sharp sniffle, Davy blinked back tears. “No. Not yet. But I’m one bad pitch away from getting fired. My boss called me into his office last Friday and told me that if I didn’t have an innovative idea on his desk when I return from this trip, I may as well pack my things.”
Oh no.
“What? Davy! What about the cheese adventure?”
Davy sat, shoulders slumped. “Turns out they did that exact segment four years ago. Cheese capitals of Europe. Tanked harder than my high school math scores. So not only did I pitch something that’s already been done but I also pitched a failure of a concept, too.”
“I know of an exciting boutique inn in Costa Rica that would be happy to host you for a travel docuseries.” Isla slipped her arm around her shoulder with a comforting squeeze.
“Do you know that I tried to pitch something like that to them? Antony said I had to do better than a Costa Rican inn and rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at me in a meeting. In front of everyone, Isla. I almost evaporated into my seat I was sweating so badly.”
“You can’t let him intimidate you. You’re good at this. This is what you were born for—you said it yourself.”
“Oh, who am I kidding? My parents sent me to school hoping I’d get an MD and an MRS., and so far, I’ve failed on both accounts.
I’m a has-been wannabe filmmaker who can’t even pitch a tantalizing idea to keep my entry-level job at the Travelog Channel.
This isn’t National Geographic, Isla. They give shows to influencers on a regular basis.
Most of our shows are on YouTube—only a few make it to the cable channel or get picked up by a bigger network.
The only film that got me noticed was because you starred in it, and you’re so freaking beautiful that no one was paying attention to the filmmaking. ”
“Stop it.” Isla shoved her away. “Listen, this is what we’re going to do. Between scheduled selfies and whatever horrors Kelsey has planned, we’re going to brainstorm ten killer ideas. Minimum. Okay?”
“Okay,” Davy answered tearfully, clearly unconvinced.
Isla stood, determined to cheer her up. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“Silver dresses, dinner, Chippendales show at nine thirty, then time in Ellis Island Casino.” Davy sighed with about as much enthusiasm as Isla felt.
“Sounds like we need to pre-game.” Isla unzipped her carry-on and pulled out a bottle of tequila she’d picked up duty-free at the airport. “To solving our problems,” she declared with a confidence she didn’t know she possessed.
“How much of that bottle do you think it will take before I believe it?” Davy groaned.
Isla poured two shots and raised hers with mock solemnity. “Let’s find out.”