Chapter 40
BARB ENTERS THE LOBBY OF the Inn-on-the-Beach, marveling at how different it looks now that’s been completely redone.
Despite its location right near the water, the motel was a hole when Barb was a kid, and that was being generous.
But the beach, along with its infamous boardwalk, has been a primary revitalization project for the town council once Wonderland was sold, and every establishment has benefited from the makeover.
Marketing for this particular motel has been quite savvy, too.
Barb hadn’t realized how the popular the place was on TikTok until she’d watched Jasmine Hugo’s videos promoting the place in exchange for a free weekend with her girlfriends, one of whom never showed up.
Barb waits patiently behind the counter while the front desk clerk assists another customer.
She’s not sure what she’s hoping to find, but she did notice in Sydney Carlisle’s missing person file that Officer Evans never did stop by the motel where the former reality star was headed.
Probably because Sydney likely never made it all the way to Seaside.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask questions and have a look around.
“Checking in?” the clerk asks, and Barb approaches.
“Hi, Clark, I’m Barb. I write for the Chronicle here in Seaside,” she says to him, her voice extra warm. “I’m looking for a guest who was supposed to stay here last week. I’m hoping you can tell me if you’ve seen her.”
The pink at the tips of his ears spreads all the way down to his lobes. “Was the reservation under her name?”
“No, it was actually under her friend’s name, Jasmine Hugo, and there were going to be three of them—”
“Oh, those girls,” Clark says with a quick nod.
“The influencers. The owner comped them a room in exchange for PR. They were really . . . friendly.” His cheeks are beginning to match his ears.
“There were only two of them, though. They kept waiting for a third girl to show up, but I heard she never did.”
Barb leans on the counter. “Were you working that weekend, Clark?”
“Just for a few hours, the evening they checked in,” he says.
“Jasmine and her friend—Bunny, I think her name was—came in a few times to see if their friend had shown up yet, but she never did. They were pretty worried about her. Still, you’d never know it from their TikToks.
” The color in his face deepens. “I mean, it’s their job to look like they’re having a great time.
Not that I’d normally watch that kind of content or anything. ”
“You’re allowed,” Barb says. “You’re an adult, same as they are.”
He swallows and nods.
Barb had watched the short videos that both Jasmine and Bunny had finally posted this morning.
The two girls had spent most of their time at the motel pool wearing various bikinis—all gifted by the swimwear brands, of course—while mouthing words to trending audio and performing trending dances.
In between, there was plenty of footage of their room and the motel grounds, as well as posts of what they ate at the little diner attached to the property.
They seemed to have skipped Wonderland altogether.
Barb didn’t blame them. If your friend had gone missing, the last thing you’d be in the mood for is a roller coaster.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure how influencers did it.
Freebies aside, the job seemed exhausting.
Barb shows Clark the clerk her phone screen, where she’s saved a picture of Sydney that she screenshotted from one of Jasmine’s TikToks. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but just in case, you never did see this woman anywhere in Seaside, right?”
He takes a cursory look. “Nope. And trust me, I would have remembered because I used to watch her on Showgirls.”
Realizing he’d just admitted out loud that scantily clad girls are, in fact, the exact kind of content he watches, his cheeks turn purple.
He clears his throat. “I did overhear them talk about a rest stop, though. Apparently she was taking the Wonder Bus here?” He shudders.
“I wouldn’t recommend that. My sister did that once and said there were a lot of sketchy people on it. ”
Barb nods. “It’s a cheap way to travel.”
“They haven’t found her, have they?”
Before she can answer, a singsong voice calls out behind her, “Clark, my little honey bun, I’m going to need more towels, but the big fluffy kind. You don’t need to do it now, but can you have them in my room by the time I get back from dinner later?”
Barb freezes. She’d know that voice anywhere. Turning around, she comes face-to-face with a woman she’s only ever seen on TV, who appears to be as glorious in person as she is on the screen.
It’s the queen of Trophy Wives herself. Here. In Seaside.
Cecily Monaco, even taller and thinner in real life than she appears on television—which is saying something, considering how statuesque she in on Trophy Wives—reaches into an Hermès Birkin handbag that’s likely worth more than Barb’s car.
Pulling out a twenty, Cecily places it on the counter and slides it toward the clerk.
“And, just letting you know now, I have to check out tomorrow promptly at nine to catch my flight back to Toronto,” Cecily informs Clark. “The Portland airport is only an hour from here, correct?”
“Thirty minutes,” Barb blurts, the words out before she can stop herself. “You can sleep in.”
Cecily turns, fixing her gaze on Barb. “And I certainly will. We can never have too much beauty sleep, am I right?”
“Never, though some of us need more of it than others,” Barb says, doing her best to remain calm even though she’s talking to Cecily fucking Monaco. “And by us, I mean me, because you’re Cecily Monaco and you’re perfect.”
“Perfect?” Cecily cocks her head and smiles. “How lovely of you to say. And you are . . . ?”
“My name is Barbara. My friends sometimes call me Barbie, but I don’t really prefer that, because I never liked Barbies growing up and, oh god, I’m talking too much, but I am such a huge fan of yours.
I’ve seen every episode of Trophy Wives and you are such a boss.
I . . . I actually used to know one of your costars.
Nicolette and I—you know her as Cole—grew up together.
God, I can’t believe you’re actually here, and it’s so great to meet you.
What are you doing in Seaside? Not that you’re not welcome here, we love visitors, but it’s . . .”
She hears a chuckle come from behind the desk and forces herself to stop talking. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that clerk she thought was awkward is now watching her make a fool of herself.
“It’s lovely to meet you, too,” Cecily says, extending her hand gracefully. “You’re a friend of Cole’s, you said?”
Barb actually didn’t say that, but this is neither the time nor the place—nor the person—to explain that.
Instead, she nods. “My house is across the street from her house, which is where her brother lives now. I’m actually babysitting his cat.
Ray’s cat. Actually, I’m supposed to bring him back today. Sorry, the cat, not Ray. Dexter.”
Cecily’s smile is patient. “And your name is Barbara. But if you don’t like being called Barbie, then what should I call you?”
“Whatever the fuck you want.”
Cecily throws her head back and laughs. “Barb it is. Oh god, I love small towns.” She claps her hands together, looking genuinely delighted. She looks over at Clark. “Don’t you just love small towns, Clark?”
The clerk frowns. “Well . . .”
“So what brings you to Seaside?” Barb asks again. “Not that it’s any of my business, but we don’t exactly get a lot of celebrities here.”
“Well, that would be our mutual friend, Cole,” Cecily says. “I’m here to support her. I don’t know if you read the tabloids—and god, I hope you don’t—but she’s been going through a bit of a rough time. She’s at, you could say, a pivotal point.”
Barb blinks. “I’m sorry, what?” she says, her throat going dry. She stares at Cecily, hoping she misheard. “Cole’s actually here? In Seaside?”
“She’s staying here at the motel,” Clark says from behind the desk. “Everyone’s been talking about her. About all three of you, actually, because of Trophy Wives and Criminal Confessions . . .” His voice trails off.
Feeling like the wind has been knocked out of her, Barb leans against the front desk for support.
Usually she’d know things like this before anyone else, but since quitting Reality Bitch, she hasn’t been paying attention to the latest celebrity news.
And she hasn’t stopped into Lucky’s today, either, which is where all the best Seaside gossip is shared.
“I’m actually on my way over to Ray’s house—which I now know is right across the street from your house—to have dinner with them all,” Cecily says. “Oh, honey, you must join us.”
Barb forces herself to straighten up. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, intrude,” Cecily says, her eyes sparkling. “Please intrude. That’s the whole point of small-town life, isn’t it?”
She isn’t actually wrong.
“I’ll see you there,” Cecily says, and her tone leaves no room for argument.
Resigned, Barb nods. There’s no way to avoid Nicolette, not in a town like Seaside. They’re bound to run into each other sooner or later, so she might as well get it over with.
They walk out of the motel lobby together, and Barb watches as Cecily slips into the front seat of a shiny black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows parked a few spots over from hers. The fact that she’s driving herself around town only makes her more impressive.
“By the way, when’s the last time you saw Cole?” Cecily calls out before shutting her door.
“Twenty-five years ago,” Barb calls back. “Maybe you could let her know I’m coming?”
“Now why would I do that?” Cecily says with that infamous Cheshire cat smile. “That would ruin the surprise. If you’re a fan of the show, then you know I love a good reunion.”
Normally Barb does, too. But there’s no way this will be a good one.
The last time she and Nicolette were together, they were screaming at each other.