Chapter 2
Rose thought they should complain. Even if she and Edie only had a tent for the weekend, it was a luxury tent, and so it should really have air conditioning.
“It will be fine, trust me,” Edie said. “I stayed in a tent just like this in Morocco, and they really cool down at night.”
“You’re also used to the heat,” Rose said, fanning herself. “I’m going to have a stroke. I need to change into my swimsuit.”
“That’s fine. No one expects us to wear any more than that the entire time we’re here, anyhow. But how are you not used to the heat when you live in L.A. half the time?” Edie asked, tipping her suitcase onto its side and unzipping it.
“Because I have air conditioning!” Rose said.
With all the flaps down on the tent, Rose stripped out of shorts and tank top and replaced them with a green bikini and a sheer white wrap that she loved for the way it clung and wrapped around her legs in the wind.
Edie did the same, dressing in a more intricate black strappy number with geometric shapes covering her breasts and groin.
“I love that on you. Are you wearing that all day?” Rose asked.
“Yeah, I got it sent to me specifically to wear on the first day. They’re paying me a crazy amount every time I post for them on Insta.”
Rose nodded approvingly, and Edie led the way out of the tent.
She zipped the door flap up along the front and pressed the padlock to her wristband, engaging the mechanism inside and changing the light from green to red.
They both slipped on their oversized sunglasses and headed toward the closest bar, one of many along the beach nestled between bushes with brightly colored red and orange and even purple leaves—or so Edie thought.
When she asked Rose to stop in front of a larger bush that provided a backdrop for a selfie for both of them, she realized that the colored leaves weren’t leaves at all, but the veiny petals of tropical flowers.
Rose drew her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and reviewed the photo.
“That’s mint. Post it,” she said, and then stepped over the threshold of the open-air bar.
The women turned heads upon entering. Edie suppressed a smile.
Everyone here was beautiful, being either models or children of famous actors blessed with good genes or the money to look like they had good genes, but she and Rose were unmatched in their radiance.
Edie was darker than Rose, but both women had completely clear skin and sharp, angular bone structures that allowed them to set fire to the camera with a coy look or simply warm it with a gentle smile.
If someone asked Edie if she liked the attention, she demurred, but in truth, she loved it.
She only felt that she wasn’t supposed to, but she recognized both their beauty.
They built livelihoods based on their looks, meaning a typical day involved looking into mirrors or at pictures and videos of themselves and finding and memorizing the right poses to sell the hot product of the week.
It wasn’t vanity, she thought, just subjective truth: She was beautiful.
They both were. But people thought less of models when they acknowledged their own beauty, especially as Black women, and so she and Rose both pretended not to notice the eyes lingering on them as they approached the bar for drinks.
The counter of the tiki bar wrapped around a central island of glass bottles such that it was approachable from all sides of the wall-less structure. A white guy with a strong jawline in a Hawaiian shirt approached them from behind the bar.
“Mojito, please,” Rose said.
“Same for me.”
The bartender’s charming smile grew to a full-toothed grin, and he pointed a finger at Rose and bounced it for a moment before pointing at Edie.
“I love your accents. Let me guess where you’re both from. Tell me about yourselves, what’s your name?” he said before placing his palms on the bar to plant himself in the conversation.
Rose smiled, fluttering her eyelashes against her cheeks. Edie knew this meant the intrusion irritated Rose.
“My name is Rose Turner. I’m a model, I’ve been on the cover of British Vogue twice, and I love to swim,” She punctuated her sentence with a practiced smile, which the bartender returned.
“I’m gonna say … Liverpool?” he guessed.
“Obviously,” Rose said.
“Ah!” He beamed and turned his attention to Edie. “Okay, round two.”
“You’re going to guess the city I’m from?” Edie felt more willing to play but didn’t think he stood much of a chance with her.
“I’m going to try, yeah. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well,” she said, sweeping her braids behind her shoulder, “my name is Eden Lee, but I go by Edie. I’m also a model.
I’m the face of Beaty Beauty and … I hope to have a really good time here.
” Edie also ended with a smile, unsure of what else to say.
Rose gave her a knowing glance, knowing the bartender had no clue where Edie hailed from.
“Hmm. I’m not catching much of an accent, but …” he rolled his theory around on his tongue for a moment, lifting his eyebrows to show his concentration. “Are you from Australia?”
Edie laughed. “Yes, I am. But Straya’s a big country.”
“You’re right, it is, and I said I was going to guess the city. So, then, I’m gonna say you’re from Perth, but I bet you’re not, are you?”
Edie shook her head and laughed. “Other side of the country, mate. I’m from Brisbane.” Her words were thick with a caricatured Australian accent. Edie rarely said things like “mate” to strangers, but this was all an act—like everything on the island. It’s what the moment demanded.
The bartender hung his head but didn’t seem at all put off at getting the answer wrong. Edie noticed his gelled quaff of hair didn’t move at all. When he looked up again, he was still all toothy smiles for the women.
“Well, Edie stumped me, so both your mojitos are on me. Thanks for playing, ladies, I’ll get those right up.”
The bartender walked away to the other end of the bar to prep their drinks, and the women exchanged glances.
“At least our bevvies are free,” Edie said.
“I can pay for my bevvy. I don’t like having to play for it, just give it to me,” Rose said.
Edie wasn’t surprised about Rose’s position, but she didn’t quite agree. She appreciated the bartender trying to get to know the patrons, and she didn’t get the impression that he was putting on just to talk to celebrities or millionaire clientele.
“Mojitos for Rose and Edie,” he said with another smile, setting down the drinks in front of them as he said their names.
“If he’s never done a toothpaste ad, he should really look into it,” Edie said privately to Rose.
Rose rolled her eyes. It didn’t impress her that he remembered their names or that he was charismatic, but Edie leaned forward rather than taking a sip of her drink and layered on a thick accent that normally took four drinks to come out.
“What’s your name, mate?”
“My name is Austin,” he said, putting his hand to his chest.
“Where are you from, Austin?” she asked, taking a sip of her mojito.
“Originally, I’m from a small town in Colorado called Twin Springs, but I live in New York now.”
She nodded. “Are you a model in New York?”
Austin laughed at that, like he got that question a lot.
“Nah, I’m an actor. That’s why I’m interested in accents.
I want to be able to expand my range, you know, play anybody from anywhere.
Australia is hard because the accents aren’t very regional, you know?
But when I first heard you talk,” he turned his attention again to Rose and switched into a dead-on Liverpool accent, “you were a bit easier, but, of course, not the thickest Scouse I’ve ever heard in my life. ”
Rose raised her eyebrows this time. “Not bad, Austin. Not bad. You sound a bit like my brother, actually.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Austin put his hand to his chest again and gave a small bow.
“Thank you, Rose, I appreciate that. You two just let me know if there’s anything else you need, and I’ll be back around to check on you soon, okay?
” He gave another dazzling smile and sauntered away to help another group of women who walked up to his side of the bar.
Edie and Rose sipped their drinks and took in their surroundings.
Some people in the bar weren’t immediately identifiable but many of them were from tabloids and TikToks and TV shows.
As models, the two women were accustomed to the rich and famous but that didn’t dampen their curiosity as to who else got the mysterious email inviting them to the island.
So far, they couldn’t determine the pattern by which people were invited.
Rose figured someone mined or sold their data, but Edie suspected something more direct; someone likely paid someone else to get the names of exclusive guest lists and picked people either randomly or by some unknown method.
For instance, it was well established that most A-list actors hadn’t gotten the invite but a handful of beauty bloggers had.
Not all their old friends from boarding school received an invite nor did everyone at the modeling agency.
Rose’s model ex, Grady, publicly turned down the offer.
He was a known party boy who Edie assumed would have accepted the invite without a second thought, unlike Edie’s ex-girlfriend, Meggie, who accused Edie of caring more about what Rose thought than anything else.
Remembering this, Edie tapped on Rose’s hand.
“Did I tell you that Meggie is going to be here?” she said.
“Not that bitch,” Rose said, putting down her drink to take in the gossip. “When did you hear that? Did she text you?”
“No, she posted in her stories about it this morning when she was on the plane.”
“Well, don’t worry, this island is big enough for both of you.”
Edie hoped so. Her ex, Meggie, just got her big break as a supporting actress in an Prime original show.
As far as Rose and Edie both getting invites went, they chalked it up to the three campaigns they shared together on Beaty Beauty in the last year and being arguably the two biggest names out of all the other people involved said campaigns.
Dumb luck allowed them to come together, but if the people behind the festival expected any of the villas and tents to be rented by friends, they needed to do their research and invite at least some people who obviously knew each other.
Neither Rose nor Edie paid for their accommodations; Beaty paid for everything in exchange for the women creating Beaty-approved content.
And if their employer believed the whole festival wasn’t a scam, then who were they to distrust them?
Rose brought up this last point in New York, when Edie tried to back out last minute. The Lees, especially her dad, thought it was all a bad idea and actually called Beaty irresponsible for sending any of their models without verifying the details properly.
“I beg your pardon, do you need your father’s permission to do something you want to do, have been chosen to do, and are getting paid to do?” Rose asked. “And since when did Beaty need to call up Dr. Lee to talk about his grown daughter’s decisions?”
“He made some good points, though, Rose. I think we need to look into it a little more.”
“I’m not looking into anything. I’m going, with or without you, so you need to decide if you want to go,” Rose said, returning her attention to the notifications on her phone and disappearing behind her eyelash extensions.
Edie reassured herself by remembering how she did look into the island and only found poorly written articles about past shipwrecks that had nothing to do with anything that impacted their safety.
Besides that, she lived with Rose and felt the pressure of her influence every day, whereas if she avoided calling her parents until the day of the flight then they could keep their concerns to themselves.
Edie and Rose finished their drinks and each ordered another from Austin. Both women felt the effects of the alcohol and posed for selfies with their filled glasses in hand. Rose even allowed Austin to be in a few of the shots she took.
The already rowdy bar, full of millennials and zoomers trying to one-up each other and outdrink their friends before the festivities even started, suddenly got even rowdier. Edie and Rose noticed the change and heard the same words repeated in the half-shouted conversation.
Cherish. Bradley. King.
They couldn’t see anyone at first. The bodies in the crowded bar moved in a wave-like flow as news of the arrival spread.
Even those most inoculated to fame became interested and attempted to catch a glance.
Rose saw Cherish first, still wearing enormous sunglasses as she leaned onto the counter opposite the bar from her and Edie.
The sunglasses were unnecessary inside and did nothing to hide the identity of the supermodel whose face was on every other commercial for high-end goods from Chanel perfume to Calvin Klein Jeans to the cover of the album of her musical debut alongside her husband, Bradley.
It didn’t surprise anyone that the Kings were on the island.
Cherish was beautiful and successful on her own, but as a package deal with Bradley, anyone who got their names on a list knew that their presence alone ensured the success of the Island Xperience.
He was a YouTube-musician-cum-international-popstar-sensation and now, on the cusp of his thirties, starting on the route to an easy and early retirement.
In the last year alone, he'd released his best-selling album yet and produced two blockbuster movies, one of which starred Cherish.
“Why is everyone losing their mind over those two? He’s a little boy with a neck tattoo. I don’t mind her as much, but still. They’re not Rihanna,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. Edie threw her head back and finished off her drink then placed the glass gently on the bar top.
“I would sob like a baby if Rihanna came in,” she said. “But you’re right. It’s chockered in here and I’m pissed enough. Let’s go. If everyone is here, the beach should be empty. I need to get a couple shots to send to Beaty and get posted before I forget.”
“I got you girl,” Rose said. “Give me your mobile.”