“I’m sorry.” Amal exhaled, shaking her head. “I didn't mean to snap at you. I’m just …”
“Just what?”
Amal shook her head. “That was Snowdrop, my new assistant I told you about.”
“Is her name really Snowdrop?” Vivian asked, skeptical.
Chuckling, Amal said, “That is literally her name. Beyond ridiculous. Anyway, she is a long-term temp, and she has no critical thinking skills. But she can type one hundred and fifteen words per minute, and she’s a master at Word and Excel. She’s like an administrative savant.”
Vivian laughed.
“Anyway, there’s an issue with a new vendor,” Amal said. “He’s who I was threatening to kill. He claims there’s a problem with my purchase order for the new massage tables I requested which I need, like, yesterday. He’s refusing to deliver the tables. I really need to stay on top of the situation. That’s why I asked you if Snowdrop could call me here at the condo.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Vivian said, not sure she believed Amal’s story, not sure a massage table vendor could invoke the seething rage she’d heard in Amal’s tone. She didn’t want to prod and pry, didn’t want to treat her best friend to a St. Killian Inquisition. Besides, what did she know about the medical spa business? An unreliable vendor could very well inspire murderous anger.
Amal said, “Once I get this issue with the vendor under control, I’ll be completely free to relax and enjoy these next seven days in paradise.”
“Well, I hope the issue with the vendor won’t stop you from going to the street circus tonight.”
“The street circus?”
“It’s so much fun,” Vivian promised. “The street circus is like a huge block party with a carnival vibe.”
“Sounds like fun, but …”
“But … what?” Vivian asked. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to go. Amal, you have to go.”
“No, I really want to go, and I plan to go,” Amal said. “But I also made some other plans, too.”
“What other plans?” Vivian stared at Amal, slightly suspicious.
“Other plans with Landon, the hot-to-death waiter from Dizzy Jenny’s,” Amal said. “Hopefully, anyway. He may, or may not, call me, but if he does, I want to be available.”
“Yeah, about that …” Vivian said.
“About what?” Amal asked.
“Hooking up with Landon.”
“I know I shouldn’t,” Amal said, giggling. “But, I can’t help myself. And, believe it or not, but it’s been beyond forever since I got laid.”
Vivian nodded, noncommittal, saying nothing. She did know, actually, what it was like to go through a sex drought. She’d been celibate since—
Stopping the thought, Vivian refused to go there, afraid of getting caught up in the memories.
Focusing on Amal, she said, “I know some things about Landon.”
Affecting a comical, horror-stricken look, Amal said, “Don’t tell me. He lied about the foot-long.”
After a sigh, Vivian told Amal about Landon’s brush with the law and possible criminal ties.
“But, he wasn’t charged with anything, right?” Amal asked, glancing away.
“No, he wasn’t,” Vivian said. “But—”
“Then it doesn’t matter,” Amal said, crossing her left leg over the right. “He’s not a crook, so he’s okay in my book.”
Shaking her head, Vivian said, “Just be careful if you decide to hook up with Landon, okay?”
With a sly grin and a sassy wink, Amal pointed to a red strapless sundress hanging on the bathroom door and asked, “What do you think about that dress for the street circus?”
“That’s hot,” Vivian said, approving. “And you know what? I have the perfect red scarf to go with that sizzling red dress.”
“Will the scarf help me get lucky?” Amal asked.
“Maybe,” Vivian said, heading out of the room. “But hopefully not with Landon.”
5
“How long does it take to fall out of love?” Vivian cocked her head to the side and peered into the eye of the seagull perched on the edge of the railing. Staring at the torn-up pieces of bread in her hand, the seagull gave no response. Not that Vivian expected one. This wasn’t a Disney movie after all. This was her fucked-up life.
“No answer? Some substitute for a best friend you are.” Vivian hunched her shoulders and leaned slightly to throw the bread over the railing. The seagull plummeted to the concrete below, landing softly, and began to feast.
Vivian gazed at the horizon. The sizzling sunshine and postcard view from her condo balcony weren't enough to counter the storm brewing inside of her. She needed her best friend right now. Where the hell was Amal? She glanced at her watch; it was a quarter after eleven in the morning. How long did it take to bang a sexy waiter into oblivion?
Punching her fists into her thighs, Vivian let out a low moan.
How could she have let this happen?
Last night, in one foolish moment of weakness, she'd unraveled over a year's worth of progress in finding herself and reconnecting with the woman she'd been. Her new life, rebuilt and renewed from the devastation of her past, had begun to crumble. This beautiful island that had healed her soul and spirit, the place she'd grown to love, would never be the same for her now.
The largest of the Palmchat Islands, St. Killian was flat and sprawling with endless miles of pink sand beaches bordering the neighborhoods and jungles. The government had quickly learned to prostitute the allure of the island, monetizing its natural attributes to become a mecca for commerce. Developers had flocked there, building easily on the terrain, leaving behind a pristine mirage of resorts circling almost the entire coastline. With the resorts came tourists and a thriving economy, supporting a healthy base of well-to-do St. Killian locals and ex-pats.
Vivian had been lured to the island initially for a short-term assignment to write the groundbreaking, first-ever Palmchat Island Tourist Guide commissioned by the local government. Traveling and researching the islands in the chain had started the process of healing Vivian’s soul. On her journeys through the islands, she encountered, time and again, evidence of
