Chapter 15
James couldn’t stay in the ocean all day to avoid being spied on by the eyes and ears of the island, but he could do the next best thing and try to disappear into a crowd. Cell shut off in his damp pocket, he wandered until finding a large group of people dancing near the south end of the island.
No live music played, but a sizable crowd listened as a DJ remixed the best hits of the year so far.
The dancers jumped and sweated in the sun, and the air smelled of coconut sunblock and cotton candy vape clouds.
He spotted a group of guys dancing together and made his way over to them as if drawn by a magnet.
In the crowd, James caught the attention of a guy with a slim build and pink board shorts, who gave him a big-toothed smile and shimmied over.
“Hi there,” the guy said. “My name’s Jamir.”
“I’m James.”
“Nice to meet you, James.” Jamir danced a little closer, and they found a rhythm together. “You here alone, James?”
“I am.”
“Not anymore,” Jamir shook his head. James grinned and the music changed.
Cheers rose from the dancers as the first notes of the bassline from a throwback song thrummed heavy in their chests.
James and Jamir both knew the words and sang loudly together like old friends.
Jamir dramatically gesticulated to the words, singing directly to James.
He reached out his arm on the final line, curved his finger to draw James close to him, and was suddenly thrown to the left.
“Hey!” James cried out to the body lying on top of Jamir, which thrashed around to get their footing.
He stepped around the mess of limbs to try and help Jamir up from beneath the other guy and heard someone shouting something.
The guy who fell onto Jamir stood, and James helped Jamir to his feet and saw that the crowd opened around Brad King.
He shouted something that came into sharp clarity when the DJ cut the music.
“—touch me ever again!” he said. Behind him, Cherish King stood with her hands over her mouth in shock.
“I didn’t fucking touch you, dickbag!” the other guy yelled. James pulled Jamir away from the scene.
“Are you okay?” he asked, but he could already see the scrapes full of dirt and spilled beer covering Jamir’s forearms.
Brad King, neck veins throbbing beneath the blackwork tattoos on his neck, stepped forward in his flip flops and tried to seem intimidating in a white tank top and low-hanging basketball shorts. Brad pressed his chest against the other guy’s, who stood his ground and stared the pop star down.
“Fuck off, slim shady!” someone yelled out at King.
“Brad, stop!” Cherish cried. Her words curdled with tears and anger.
“Watch your fucking back,” King said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, but he kept his distance, and his fists remained balled at his sides.
The crowd gathered around the second guy, faster than any paparazzi swarm but armed with just as many cameras, to show their allegiance now that the threat was somewhat mitigated.
“Go put out another shitty album!” someone else yelled.
Brad acted like he couldn’t hear the vitriol around him. He grabbed Cherish’s hand roughly and both briskly walked off the dance floor.
“Homophobe!” someone shouted.
Jamir’s friends pushed through the dispersing crowd, and he pulled away from James.
Everyone began asking Jamir what happened, and as he detailed the short encounter, James faded away into the crowd.
The moment was lost with Jamir. It was just another experience on the island tainted by someone with too much fame and too little common sense.
Back at the dorm, James fumed. He should never have come to the island.
When the invitation arrived, he jumped at the opportunity, only giving it enough thought to realize that he couldn’t afford the tent alone and none of his friends, aside from Steve, got the exclusive invite.
It made James feel special, like there was still something offered that was fresh and relevant and that people wanted, like he somehow earned his spot on the guestlist when equals in his field hadn’t worked hard enough to get the same reward.
Now, alone on the island, he felt like a fool.
Nothing earned him a place there. It was just luck, and bad luck at that.
Then, a thought occurred to him. A rumor started on his platform became real. Maybe there wasn’t a coverup happening on the island, but something bigger than that? And what if it was something that he could take advantage of?
He opened Instagram and rearranged himself so that the phone didn’t cast a shadow across his face.
“Have you ever been enjoying yourself somewhere and think, ‘man, I’m glad Brad King isn’t here?
’ That’s what I was just thinking,” he said it with a bit of bitterness that could come off as sarcasm in case anyone came to roast him, although he figured this corner of the internet might offer more sympathy than others.
He added the caption “grateful” and tagged the Island Xperience and hit POST.