Hurricanes in Paradise (12 page)

Riley picked up a plate and covered it with every vividly colored food Mosaic had to offer. She followed Laine to a booth, where the punch of color in the red suede seat back contrasted sharply against the neutral tones of the restaurant and the black of Laine’s dress.

Laine ordered a glass of pinot grigio and Riley ordered a Dr Pepper. If she could have made it a double, she would have. As soon as she sat down, her phone vibrated against her hip. It had vibrated all morning, another distraction in an already-busy schedule, but she picked it up anyway. It was Max. She always had to take that call.

“Excuse me, Laine. This is my boss. I’ll be right back.”

Laine gave her a nod as she picked up a shrimp and bit into it.

Riley walked out of the restaurant and into the open atrium. She stood across from the open doors of a sundries store and answered her phone. “Hey.”

“Hey. I just talked to Claire. She’s freaking out wanting to know where the contract is.”

The vise grip returned quickly to Riley’s chest. “Mia was supposed to take it first thing this morning.”

“You didn’t take the papers yourself?”

“No . . .” The time with Jeremy had pushed her schedule too much and she hadn’t had time to do that and get to Laine on time. “No, I was running late and couldn’t be late to meet Laine, so I had Mia send them for me.”

“Those are important papers, Riley.” His voice was more that of a disappointed father than a reprimanding boss.

“I know. I should have taken them myself. I have no excuse. I’ll take care of it immediately.”

“You need to look sharp, Riley. This first year, everything matters. And Claire . . .”

She rubbed her head again. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” She heard him sigh. She could see his furrowed brow and his deep, brooding black eyes. “I’ll go find it and make sure it gets there myself.”

“You know how much I believe in you, Riley.” All frustration was now gone from his tone. She could hear his chair squeak.

“I do. And you know how much I appreciate it.”

“How are things with the author?”

“I’ve been with her all day.”

“Well, make her happy. Apart from this contract, that is what is most important this week.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’m going back to lunch with my family.”

“Have a great afternoon. Sorry you had to stop for this.” She hung up the phone and paced for a few moments in the hall. Then picked the phone back up and called Mia.

“The Cove, this is Mia.”

“Hey, Mia, it’s me. Max just called, and legal said they haven’t received the contract yet.”

She could hear her shifting papers. “Oh, Riley, I thought it was supposed to go to Max. His name and your name were on the front. I thought he was sending it to legal.”

Riley searched her memory frantically. She remembered seeing Max’s name big and bold on the front. She had been so frazzled this morning there was a huge possibility that she had told Mia that. “Did you drop the papers off at his office?”

“Yes. I thought it was odd, though, that he wasn’t there. I tried to call you, but it went straight to your voice mail. I figured you’d call to check in when you got a break.”

“Well, they were supposed to go to legal. Claire is waiting on them and is apparently fit to be tied.”

“Oh, Riley, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was now slightly frantic. “I’ll go right back and get them and take them over there right now.”

Riley shook her head. “No, that was my responsibility. It was very important and I knew that. I should have taken care of it.”

“Yes, but that’s what I’m here for—to help you. I should have kept calling until I got you. Please let me go get them right now and take them.”

“No, honestly, it’s all right. I need to do this myself. I promised Max I would.”

“Okay. But I am so sorry. I should have asked you twice this morning. I knew you were a little harried when you came through here.”

“Yeah, slightly hectic morning. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Okay. See you later.”

An overwhelmed feeling washed over her again, but she resisted, knowing that feeling would only lead her to a dark place. It was a place she hadn’t been to in years and one she had no intention of ever returning to. Besides, she had no time for old demons. Not when new ones seemed so capable of finding her.

* * *

Tamyra didn’t notice the brilliant blue of the sky that hung like a tapestry over Cain, the nine-thousand-square-foot designed pool at The Cove. Nor did she pay any attention to the two infinity pools that sat elevated and served as virtual bookends. She was silently grateful that Winnie had rescued her from her own thoughts, but none of it would undo the fact that Jason had found her phone number. That in and of itself seemed impossible. And if he could do that, there was a huge risk that he could find her here.

“Are you Miss Larsen?” a beautiful Bahamian woman asked, the vibrant orange of her top a sharp contrast to the black of her skin.

Tamyra stopped in front of the small teak hostess stand that stood at the entrance to the pool. “Yes, I am.”

“Come this way. Ms. Sinclair has reserved a place for you.”

Winnie and Tamyra followed the woman’s long legs, wrapped in flowing white pants, toward a large daybed with an awning-style covering that sat at the edge of the pool and stood elevated above the other lounge chairs.

Winnie stopped dead in her tracks. “You want us to climb up there?”

“They are remarkably comfortable, and we want you to have the complete experience here at Cain.”

“The question is, do you want your other guests to experience me atop that bed?”

Tamyra couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m thinking the beached-whale exhibit isn’t what you had in mind for your guests this afternoon.”

The young hostess flashed a brilliant white smile at Winnie. “You, my dear, look breathtaking in that swimsuit of yours. You will be a model of elegance to all of us.”

Winnie raised her eyebrows at the young woman and dipped her chin. “That is the biggest bunch of hoodoo I’ve heard in a long time.” A smile broke across her lips. “But you can tell me that anytime. However, unless you have a crane to hoist my butt up on top of that thing, I’ll have to pass.”

Tamyra finally spoke. “Thank you, but we’d be more comfortable in a couple of the lounge chairs over there.”

“You’re sure?” the hostess asked.

“Yes, I’m positive. But please tell Riley thank you for us. It really is a kind gesture.”

The hostess nodded and led them to lounge chairs that sat at the edge of the pool and down slightly from the daybeds. “How is this?”

“This will be great,” Tamyra answered.

“Much better,” Winnie said.

“I will have a server come over in a few moments to see if there is anything else we can get you.” She left the ladies to themselves.

The music mixed into the natural sounds of the background—laughter, conversations, and cheers from the gaming pavilion behind them. Tamyra unfolded one of the towels a young steward brought them and laid it across her chair. She pulled sunscreen from her bag and covered herself in SPF 45, then lay down and watched Winnie wrestle with an umbrella.

She finally stood beside it, holding the pole in a victorious pose. “Could you see my red butt displayed atop that daybed? These people want to leave rested, not in need of therapy.”

Tamyra laughed. “You are beautiful, Winnie. I hope I look half as beautiful . . .” She stopped midsentence. If Winnie noticed, she didn’t say anything. The sun was warm and welcome against her skin. It was the first time in two months she had even realized it was there. But lying here in this beautiful setting, she couldn’t help but feel it.

Winnie finally collapsed on the lounge chair with a thump. “I need a drink.”

No sooner had the words come from her mouth than another beautiful Bahamian lady dressed in white shorts and a white shirt tied up around her midsection, revealing abs that Tamyra feared Winnie might scold, arrived with her tray and order pad. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

“I would like a piña colada.”

Tamyra looked at her.

Winnie wriggled her nose. “Virgin,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“And for you, ma’am?”

“A bottled water would be great. Thank you.”

Winnie didn’t disappoint. “If you girls would get some sugar in you, then those stomachs of yours might not look like they were starving to death.”

The hostess laughed. “I’ll be right back, ladies.”

Tamyra and Winnie leaned back in their chairs. Tamyra looked around at the bodies that surrounded them. There were all kinds. And the sun was worshiping each one.

She turned to see Winnie bolt upright on her lounge chair. “I know she isn’t!”

Tamyra looked across the pool and saw a young woman, probably in her late twenties, wearing nothing but the lower part of her bikini. She was sitting up with all parts alert, talking to the man and woman who sat next to her as if this were as normal as eating breakfast.

“I think I read somewhere that you could go topless out here,” she whispered.

“She’s showing her private parts to the world! And it’s simply not appropriate.”

“But it is okay. Here.”

“But it’s simply not ladylike and very unappealing. Who wants to eat out here with a strange woman’s girls bouncing all around?”

Tamyra looked again. “Well, they haven’t bounced yet.”

“What would these people do if I set mine free?” Winnie asked, reaching for the strap of her bathing suit. “I bet I’d clear this place out in ten minutes flat.”

Tamyra reached for her hand frantically. “Let’s not try it today.”

“What? You don’t think these people would want to see my girls? Just because I can tuck them into the top of my britches doesn’t mean they’re not worth seeing.”

Tamyra couldn’t stop the outburst. The laughter came from somewhere in the depth of her gut. She hadn’t heard it in so long it sounded almost foreign. And before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face. Winnie was laughing too. And when their drinks finally arrived, they were curled up in two heaps of hilarity. The server simply left their drinks on the small teak table between their lounge chairs.

It was fifteen minutes before they could regain their composure. And somewhere in those fifteen minutes, with her back pressed against the lounge chair, legs curled up toward her midsection, hands wrapped around her aching stomach, Tamyra’s eyes caught sight of the sky, the brilliantly blue-colored sky.

* * *

Laine and Riley walked past the Lilly Pulitzer store on their way toward the casino. Laine had zoned out somewhere in the last thirty minutes, and Riley sounded like nothing but white noise in her head. She felt the panic attack as it wrapped its tentacles around her chest and crept up the nape of her neck.

Riley stopped at the top of the staircase leading to the casino. “Laine, you okay?”

Laine tried to shake it, but it seemed to grab her tighter. “I honestly think I’ve gotten enough information for today. I want to relax before dinner.” She hoped she was convincing enough.

“Sure, yeah. Where would you like to go?”

She had to get out of there. “You just pick us something great and make reservations for six.” She turned and tried to refrain from breaking into an all-out sprint.

“I can’t tonight. I’ve got my little . . .”

Laine turned sharply. “I don’t care what you have. Cancel it.” She turned around just as quickly. She heard Riley’s words in the distance and raised her hand to acknowledge them but never looked back. By the time she reached her room, she had broken out in a sweat. She went to the bathroom and pulled the small bottle of antianxiety pills out of her makeup bag. She broke one in half and stuck it in her mouth, then leaned down to scoop water from the faucet.

When her world collapsed, these attacks had started. She didn’t know when they would show up, and lately they had been coming with more frequency, it seemed. She pulled her clothes off and dropped them right there in the middle of the bathroom floor. She stood staring at her exposed body in the mirror. She tugged at her skin, wishing she could shed that too. But it was there. It was a part of her, and no matter how many times she wished she could crawl out of it, there was no separating her from who she was.

The ringing of her phone startled her. She leaned down and tugged the phone from her pocket. There was a slight hope that tore through the vise grip around her chest. She turned the face of the phone toward her, and staring back at her was the number of her office. It was her assistant. Again. It wasn’t Mitchell. She felt the hope sink and the panic escalate. He was never calling her again. She had made sure of it. She dropped the phone back onto the pile of clothes, walked into the suite, and pulled a bottle of rum and a can of Coke from her refrigerator. She poured herself a drink and took a long swig, letting it burn its way down her chest. If she couldn’t will this thing out of her, she’d drown it out. Either way, it was going.