Chapter 31
Thirty-One
ISABEL
I knew we would eventually take a private jet to the Aranazes’ private island, but I’m still shocked when I finally see it in the hangar.
It’s much smaller than I expected. I’ve watched so many YouTube videos to prepare for this, my first flight.
Smaller planes, I’ve learned, mean bumpier rides.
Bigger planes are supposedly more stable and harder to toss around.
I’m nervous as hell, but Kieran doesn’t even look perturbed.
The roar of the engine is deafening. I’m grateful to be ensconced inside the jet, away from the noise.
There, Luz pulls me aside and sits me down next to her, taking my bag from my hands and dropping it by my feet.
Natalia claims the seat next to Chiara, who, as expected, parks herself right across Cisco.
I catch Kieran’s eyes and offer him a small shrug.
At least the flight’s less than an hour long.
“So,” Luz says to me. “I was thinking. Has your mom ever given any thought to opening her own store?”
Boy, has she ever. It’s been Mama’s dream for as long as I can remember. We used to play pretend with my toy register—as a kid, one of my dreams in life was to be a cashier. I nod at Luz, unable to speak when the plane starts to taxi.
“Okay, ‘cause my parents are on my ass about me working for the family, and the only way I can get away from that is if I start my own business. Do you think Tita would be interested if I invested? I can probably get my parents in on it; they’ll want to set me up so I’m not dead weight, and anyway if I don’t get a choice about going corporate, it might as well be in a field I’m interested in. ”
I grip the armrests of my seat as the plane picks up speed, preparing for takeoff.
“Yes, please,” I squeak. My eyes clench shut as the plane tips upwards. Nobody warned me about the pressure. It’s like an elephant pinning me down into my seat.
“You are saving my ass here, Sugar,” Luz says. I can barely hear her over the engine. The floor vibrates under me, and I fight the urge to curl up in a ball to counter the pressure.
“Can you please stop calling me that?” I squeak.
Luz pats me on the head. “But you’re so sweet.”
“I know. But it’s just—”
She waves a hand in my face. “Say no more.” The plane equalizes and I finally catch my breath. Luz has a sympathetic look on her face. “First time?”
I nod.
“I underestimated you, Sabs. That’s what Rocío calls you, right?” I didn’t realize she noticed. “Don’t look at me like that. I pay attention.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re a tough girl,” Luz says to me, tapping my chin with her index finger.
She leans in and whispers, “Don’t let Nat get to you, okay?
Seriously. I know she can be a bitch, but I promise she’s a real softie on the inside.
I’ll put in a good word for you, too.” She pats my cheek this time, then spends the rest of the flight scrolling through her phone.
I don’t move an inch, sweaty palms gripping the armrests.
* * *
It’s a short flight, and still my friends (really—can I call them that?) play a game of musical chairs, swapping seats this way and that.
The only two people that don’t move are Kieran and me, as if we both understood that if we so much as sat near each other, the secret would come tumbling out of us, in words or in looks.
It’s only near the end that I muster the courage to even move, and just barely—to get my notebooks from my bag.
When Luz gets up to use the loo, Natalia plops herself down next to me. I have my journals stacked on my lap, my pen perched over the page.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“My journal?” I’m almost hesitant to tell her I keep one, in case she uses it against me.
“No, I know that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I would have thought she was annoyed, if not for the playful smile on her face. “I keep one too. I mean—what are you writing?”
Natalia keeps a journal? It seems unfathomable to me that she would have thoughts to write down, much less reflect on. Then again, I mustn’t forget that who she is to me isn’t the entirety of her being.
“I’m writing about my surroundings,” I say. “It’s a grounding technique. This seat is leather. This floor is carpeted. It helps me hone my descriptive prowess, too.”
Natalia points at herself. “This girl is hot.”
I chuckle. “Sure.”
She pokes at the rest of the notebooks under the one I’m using. “And these?”
“These,” I say, shutting the cover of my current one to show her the others, “are my other journals. This one’s my book journal, but I also write about the occasional film and series I watch.
This one is my ideas journal. Any random ideas I get: for essays or poems or stories, I jot down here.
This is my journal-journal”—I hold up the notebook where I was practicing the grounding technique—“and this last one is my commonplace book.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s... everything goes, basically. Quotes I like, recipes I want to try. Other random lists. It doubles as a bullet journal.”
“The DIY planner,” she says. “Luz got super into that in college, then burned-out trying to design it.” She snorts. “Seems counterintuitive, no?”
“I keep mine simple,” I say. “I can’t keep up with all the pretty designs either. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Natalia smiles at me. “I like your handwriting,” she says.
“Don’t read what I’m writing,” I chastise playfully.
She rolls her eyes. “The sky is blue. The clouds are white. Hardly anything worth reading in there.”
If she only knew.
* * *
The island of Oikos is a tropical paradise of white sand and aquamarine waters.
Tropical buildings with cogon roofs dot the scenery as we’re driven by staff on a golf cart from the landing strip to our villas.
Trees give way to the view of a polo field on our left where several caretakers are walking horses.
I’m stunned by the beauty of the place, how expansive it is, but I really shouldn’t be surprised.
The Aranezes own the premier real estate company in the Philippines; they would have had nothing less than perfect for their own personal getaway.
Near the front, Natalia prattles on about the architect who worked on the island. Cisco is deeply engaged in conversation with her.
There’s a sign that says NO BODYGUARDS OR MAIDS BEYOND THIS POINT.
Just past it, our villas sit on raised platforms with stepping stone paths over the grass between each one.
In the center of it all is a long stretch of a dark teal pool, with a little waterfall on one end.
It is by far the most extravagant place I’ve ever been.
“Miss Aranaz.” A uniformed woman arrives, carrying a tray filled with glasses of lemon iced tea. “Welcome back.”
“Hi, Babette,” Natalia greets, taking a glass and sipping. We all follow her cue.
“We’ve prepared the villas for you as you requested.” Babette sets down the tray. “You, Luz, and Ravina are sharing Villa Natalia, of course, and I’ve made sure to add extra pillows in your bedroom as is your preference.
“Your friends, Chiara, Erin, and Ravina are in Villa Mercedes. Cisco, Bo, Jaime, and Kieran are in Villa Augusto.” She looks up and smiles. Before I can question it, Chiara is speaking up.
“Wait, what about Isabel?”
“I—Isabel?” Babette stammers. A look of panic flashes in her eyes. “There was no—no mention of an Isabel.”
Natalia sighs. “Last-minute addition. I forgot to tell you. Maybe you can set her up somewhere in your quarters? There’s space, right?”
“I can have Housekeeping arrange Villa Paloma—”
“That really won’t be necessary,” Natalia says with a laugh. To me, she adds, “Even I don’t get my own villa.”
“We’ll just share rooms, then,” Chiara says. “It’s really no problem.”
Natalia furrows her brows. “Are you sure? Villa Mercedes has single-bed rooms only.”
Chiara shrugs and squeezes my hand. “We can snuggle, right?”
“I’ll have extra pillows and sheets delivered to your room right now,” Babette says, clearly relieved to have had a solution offered up so quickly. Something tells me she’s been in the Aranaz line of fire enough times to fear it.
We break off toward our separate rooms.
“Thanks,” I whisper under my breath to Chiara. I’m sweaty from nerves; not even the breeze blowing in from the beach cools me.
“It’s getting ridiculous,” Chiara replies. It’s a relief to know that someone other than Kieran has noticed how the others, particularly Natalia, have been treating me.
Our suitcases are already waiting for us in our room, all dark wood with a queen-sized bed made up like it would’ve been in a hotel. We have our own private bathroom and a view of the road. Chiara immediately draws the blinds and turns to me.
“Okay. First thing’s first: we’re changing into our bikinis.”
Can’t argue with that. I’m at the beach so rarely that all I want to do is dive right into the waters.
It seems the others had the same idea. All of us girls are sporting our brand-new bikinis.
I’ve never worn a string bikini before, much less a red one as skimpy as this; part of me feels like my boobs are gonna pop out at the slightest movement, but maybe that’s part of the appeal?
When I mention this, Chiara offers me some fashion tape.
You would think as my mother’s daughter I would know what that is, but she and Erin had to show me how it works. Life changing, really.
When we head to the beach, everyone else is already there, lazing around on woven lounge chairs or kicking a football around near the water.
Kieran looks up; distracted, Cisco kicks the ball between his legs.
“Shit,” Kieran blurts out. He hesitates, doing a double take before deciding to chase after the ball.
My whole body warms at his reaction; knowing that I caught him off guard like that by just wearing a bikini makes me feel immensely powerful.