CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 12
THE HALLWAY TILES, WHILE APPEALING IN THEIR COOLNESS, WERE far from comfortable. Ness heaved herself to her feet, rear end numb and mind reeling. She paced the empty corridor, replaying twenty-year-old memories that were, at best, fuzzy around the edges.
Her friendship with Libby had been sparked, like so many teen connections, over a boy. Pop idol Sean-Justin Grange had the audacity to think he could date both of them without the other knowing. Schmuck. After narrowly avoiding a fight of potentially epic proportions on set, they’d bonded while plotting SJ’s demise. It turned out to be unnecessary, as shortly thereafter he’d blown up his own career when he sampled “Thong Song” without securing the necessary permissions.
Ness and Libby had hung out on set and after hours, hitting the clubs and hot spots, shooting sultry looks at the cameras that inevitably pointed their way. They’d traveled the road from famous teen to famous young adult together, navigating image shifts and the often (always) unreasonable expectations of the public. But by the time she’d left, Ness had pushed Libby so far away that she thought her absence would barely register, or worse, that Libby would be relieved to see the back of her.
Her feet stuttered to a stop as she stared blindly at the peeling red-and-black geometric-patterned wallpaper. Her dad had always reminded her that they had to watch out for Number One, because no one else would. Ness first, dad second, everyone else a distant third. She’d argued, of course, as she’d gotten older. They needed to make smart career choices, sure, but they were dealing with real people. Surely it was important to empathize? To create bonds and build relationships? It didn’t seem right to keep herself so isolated.
Connections, her father had parried, were always acceptable, as long as they were with the “right” types of people. Libby Kim, young, fashionable, scandal-free, fell into this category. But in this business, no one was going to look out for you but yourself. And good ol’ dad, of course. Ha.
Libby wasn’t wrong. Ness had been entirely caught up in herself, her life, her goals and aspirations, and then, in a false-eyelashed blink, her demise. Her humiliation.
As an adult, it was easy to look back and say she hadn’t known better. She was just a kid, dealing with an incredible family blowup in front of the world. Of course she didn’t cope well. It was harder to admit that when Libby had reached out after Ness had moved north, Ness had made a conscious decision to cut ties.
It had terrified her how badly she wanted Libby to fly in and drag her back to L.A., wrap her in one of the giant handknit throws her mom seemed to turn out weekly, and convince her that they would get through this together. She wouldn’t depend on someone so fully. She couldn’t.
By the time she’d realized she was doing exactly the same thing as her father—deliberately cutting herself off from people instead of letting them in—it felt too late. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what she could say to make it better and have Libby forgive her. So she’d just . . . gotten on with her new life.
But she’d never completely left Libby behind. She carried the memory of their friendship with her like a little flame proving that, at least at some point in her life, someone had truly loved her. Seeing how badly she’d hurt that person cut deep.
Ness wandered into the living room and plopped onto the sofa, wondering idly where everyone was. She lowered her face into her hands and massaged her temples.
Feet came into view in front of her. Slowly, she raised her head and looked up to find Hayes gazing at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled with concern.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“I figured.” He lowered himself to the seat beside her. “Me too. I’m great. Loving this whole experience, you know?”
Ness snorted.
Hayes spread his arms along the back of the couch and tipped his head back, baring his neck in a way that made her skin tingle.
“No, really,” he continued, oblivious to her fluttering heartbeat. “I think we’re bringing out the best in each other, making fresh connections, really settling into island life.”
She swatted at the air, batting his nonsense aside.
“Stop,” she insisted. “It’s torture. Hell with a beautiful sunset. I saw Ian doing naked yoga on the balcony at sunrise. I may never recover.” She didn’t mention that the view of his tanned rear end hadn’t sparked the memories she’d expected it to.
“Is that why you’re in here trying to compress your skull?”
“Would you believe I wanted some quiet time?”
“Sure.”
Ness flopped back, arms hanging at her sides, palms up. She stared at the motionless cobweb-draped ceiling fan above them. There was no point in lying.
“Libby chose today to resurrect the ghosts of friendship past.”
“Ah.” She felt more than saw his nod. “It was bound to happen.And you survived! Great job!”
“I am the very picture of success.” She paused, then turned her head toward Hayes and found his face much closer to hers than she’d expected. They’d both reclined farther, heads lolling on the back of the couch. She could feel the movement of his slow, easy breath. He somehow still smelled of ocean air and cinnamon toothpaste instead of outright panic, but his eyes were darting around in a way that suggested he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he looked.
“How do you feel about me being here?” She’d said it in her head, but some horribly timed brain-mouth synapse gave the words life.
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “I don’t know why I asked.”
He didn’t shift away. His breathing didn’t hitch or speed up. He stayed steady, as a tropical bird squawked outside the window. The afternoon light streamed in, glinting off the gray and white in his three-day stubble. His eyes, now focused on hers, were the same gray-flecked green that were etched in her memory, no matter how hard she’d tried to forget them.
“Ness, I—”
Outside, someone screamed.
They were off the couch and through the kitchen in seconds, bursting onto the balcony with matching wide-eyed stares. Bradley was in a fighting stance, gaze darting around as though he was expecting to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a gang of ne’er-do-wells at any second.
Hayes skidded to a stop at Coco’s side and tried to get her to take a deep breath. Drink some water. Put her head between her knees.
Coco dodged his attentions and extended a toned arm, pointing down to the beach. She was doing an athletic side shuffle toward the stairs at the same time, as though she was barely holding herself in check.
They all pivoted, following the direction of her index finger.
There was a boat. A sleek white one that reminded Ness of the kind she’d seen ripping around Ibiza, adorned with barely clad models. It skirted the perimeter of the island, slowing as it approached their beach. She inhaled sharply. Rescue. Salvation. At this point she would have welcomed an inflatable paddleboard with near-equal enthusiasm.
Chaos ensued as everyone tried to sprint down the stairs to the beach path at the same time. Bradley’s shoulders wedged against Hayes’s at the top of the steps, and it took three long seconds of them shoving each other back and forth before they popped loose like dual champagne corks and took off sprinting.
Libby had flown outside during the commotion and had processed the situation with lightning speed. She was just steps behind the men, arms pumping as she launched herself across the sand.
Ness and Coco were hot on their heels, kicking sand into the air as they ran. From the beach, the sound of an engine brushed against Ness’s ears, and she thought she might have wept if she’d had enough liquid in her body to spare.
Up ahead, Hayes and Bradley were bellowing. The engine noise got louder. Distracted, Ness got her foot looped underneath a twisting root, which sent her flying face first into the sand. She lay there for a moment, stunned, waiting for air to return to her lungs.
Hands hooked under her armpits and hoisted her up. Coco was breathing hard, sweat dripping down the sides of her red face. She gave Ness a once-over, patted her on the shoulder, and took off again.
“Come on!” she huffed over her shoulder.
Ness had fallen only a couple of hundred feet from where the tall grasses opened onto the beach. She jogged, limping slightly, wondering if anyone would judge her if she went directly into the ocean for a celebratory swim.
The breeze brushed hot late-afternoon air against her body as she emerged onto the open sand. The water lapped at the shore. The fire was little more than a smoldering pile of coals, barely a trickle of smoke climbing into the air.
The boat was already growing small as it sped away, leaving a frothy white trail behind it. One of the people onboard, a guy in board shorts and a Tilley hat, turned and waved jauntily.
“Noooo,” Libby moaned, crumpling to the warm sand.
Bradley rounded on a pale, sand-coated Daisy, his hands fisted. “Please tell me there’s a good reason that boat is leaving without us.”
Daisy’s hair was tangled and dotted with small leaves. An angry red scrape cut across her left shoulder, just beside the thick strap of her tank top. She was making “calm down” gestures with her hands while slowly backing away from the mob.
“I’ll kill her,” Libby said, surging to her feet and looking like she meant it.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Bradley said, pacing. “You wouldn’t just let them leave. That wouldn’t make any sense.” He laughed maniacally.
Ness shook herself free from the shock that had frozen her in place. She elbowed her way through the group and executed the loudest, most obnoxious two-fingers-in-the-mouth whistle she could muster. It was very good. A legacy skill from a short stint as a middle school soccer star in a made-for-TV movie.
Everyone winced and, at least for a moment, stopped yelling. Before anybody could launch into a fresh tirade of threats, Ness spoke, wiping residual sand from the corners of her mouth.
“Would you all shut up and let her talk?” She ducked her head down to catch the younger woman’s eye. “What happened?”
Daisy shifted her weight from foot to foot, the picture of uneasy guilt. Behind her, Ian emerged from the trees, scratching his arm and looking, frankly, terrible. He was pale and sweating, his shirt balled in one hand. He took one look at the group of them, huddled like a swarm of angry wasps, and walked slowly, unsteadily, up the path.
“Well?” Libby demanded.
Daisy was trembling, tears welling in her big, beautiful eyes. “I went into the trees—only for a minute!” Her gaze jumped from face to face, searching for an ally.
Tyler wrapped an arm around her waist. She waited a second, then sidled a safe distance away, leaving him looking discomfited.
Daisy took a shuddering breath, steadying herself. Libby hissed between clenched teeth.
“Daisy,” Hayes said gently. “What happened?”
“Well,” she started, “there was a boat.”
“We know that already!” Libby shrieked. Coco shushed her. They waited.
The wind rustled the leaves of the mangroves. A bird called out. Bradley growled.
“There was a boat,” Daisy started again. “I was . . . busy. In the trees. But as soon as I heard the engine I ran out!” She shrugged hopelessly. “I tried to wave them down, but they just waved back and zoomed off.” Looking desperately from face to face, she plowed on. “I don’t think they understood. The guy had a drink in his hand, and it seemed like they were looking for a spot to hang out, saw this was occupied, and moved on.”
Tyler stepped forward again, putting a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “They’ll realize their mistake. They’ll circle back, or notify the authorities. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, you’re sure, Tyler?” Libby moved closer. “You’re certain some drunk frat boys on vacation are going to have an aha! moment? Hm, Tyler?” She poked his sternum hard enough to leave a bruise.
Tyler staggered back a step, clutching the offended area as though he’d been stabbed. He glared at Libby.
“Yes, Ms. Kim. If we don’t hold on to hope, what do we have?”
Bradley scoffed.
Ness was beginning to tremble like a small hairless dog without a coat as the adrenaline rush from her sprint faded away, leaving her both hot and cold. Hopeful and desolate.
Tyler surveyed the group. “Now, if there are no more questions, I’d like to gather my things. I, for one, have faith that the multi-billion-dollar corporate system that brought us together can tackle something as simple as a track and retrieve mission. We should be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. I suggest you do the same.”
He walked quickly away, leaving the rest of them on the beach wondering where the line between hope and delusion lay.