Mr. Tippen glanced quickly at the Saunderses. “What are you saying, Nick?” Mr. Saunders asked, his voice rising slightly.
“Dude, it wasn’t Travis.”
Mr. Saunders blinked.
“It was me who put the pepper in the old lady’s
food.”
No one spoke.
“Hey, she deserved it,” Nick said into the silence.
“She was way too annoying.”
“But why pepper, Nicky?” Mrs. Saunders whispered.
Her face was white.
Nick shrugged casually. He didn’t look at Celeste.
“Why not? We had all the VIP stuff written down—all the food allergies and stuff were on there.”
Celeste shook her head. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Nick throw away everything they’d worked on?
Her brain was whirling. Then in her mind’s eye, she saw Nick strolling across the room to talk with Travis and his buddies at the cocktail party. Was that what he had been doing? Plotting out a stupid, stupid, immature prank? She stared at Travis. He was sitting up in his seat, his eyes wide.
“Travis?” Celeste said weakly. He clamped his mouth shut and stared at a corner of the room. Nick watched him for a second and then went on.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I told Travis and the rest of the guys to try some of this wicked vodka I got from my friend, and I guess it was too much for him. The fight wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for all that booze. I was just having some fun. So, it wasn’t Travis’s fault at all—or Celeste’s.”
Celeste could see Nick trying to catch her eye. She shot him one furious glare and then stared straight ahead.
“Oh.” Mr. Tippen looked momentarily thrown off
balance. He glanced at the Saunderses. It was a different situation if the son of his famous guests was causing trouble. “Er—”
Mr. Saunders stood up. He turned to Celeste’s
parents. “Let me apologize on behalf of my son,” he said tightly. “His mother and I are shocked and ashamed.”
He turned to Nick. “Go home,” he ordered. “The screening is canceled. Go back to the guesthouse right now.
We’ll discuss your punishment later.”
Nick looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach all over again. The blood drained from his face. He opened his mouth but his father exploded. “Go!” he yelled, his composure gone. Nick scurried to the door and wrenched it open. It whooshed shut behind him.
Celeste wasn’t sure if she should scream or just start crying. Nick must have done it. He must have never even cared about the screening, or he never would have risked losing everything. Her father harrumphed and cleared his throat a few times.
“Well, all right,” he said. Slowly, he sank down to sit behind his desk, moving as if he were a very old man.
“All right, then,” he repeated. “I suppose you may go, Travis. Celeste, go with him. I, ah—well, good night.” He waved his hand at them.
Out in the mostly empty lobby, Celeste turned to Travis. She was about to apologize for suspecting him of the prank and blaming him for the fight, when she saw the silly expression on his face and the glazed look in his eyes. “Travis,” she said, leaning in close, “are you still drunk?”
He swayed on his feet slightly and shook his head a few times. “Hey, babe, no, I’m fine.” He tried to grab her but missed and almost pitched forward onto the tile floor. Celeste just managed to catch him around the waist. Together, they staggered several steps forward and back, like the world’s worst dance partners, before Travis finally got his balance.
“Oh my God,” Celeste said. “Travis, get a hold of yourself. Come on.” She pushed open the doors and wrangled her two-hundred-pound boyfriend out onto the path. She draped his arm over her shoulder and steered him toward the staff quarters. She could hear the remnants of the ruined party in the background. Travis almost took several dives into the bushes at the side of the paths, but after a few tense minutes, they made it to her parents’ bungalow. “Here,” Celeste panted, unlocking the door and shoving Travis inside. “You can sleep in my room tonight. Mom and Dad won’t be back until late.”
“Yeah!” Travis mumbled, his eyes already drooping.
He swiped at her. “Sounds good, babe… .” His voice trailed off and his knees buckled. Celeste grabbed him again.
“Travis! Do not go to sleep right here. You have to get down the hall.”
Travis headed straight for the bed once in Celeste’s room. Still wearing his shoes, he collapsed on the flowered comforter and immediately fell asleep. Celeste flicked on the bedside lamp and stood staring at him for a long time. He was lying on his back, and his lips flapped like two sausages as he snored. He smelled of sweat and stale liquor.
Finally, Celeste turned the light off and went into the bathroom. The bright yellow light of the little room seemed calm and sane after the craziness of the evening.
All her bottles and jars were neat and straight on the clean counter, and her own fluffy towels hung on the towel rack.
She turned on the taps of the bathtub full blast and dumped in some bath powder. Fragrant, foamy water started rising in the tub.
She stripped off the creased, sweaty silk dress and climbed into the warm water. She lay back and spread a washcloth over her eyes. Maybe if she just relaxed, she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she had trusted Nick and he had completely betrayed her. She clenched her fists on the side of the tub as this thought flooded over her and shook her head. How could he have done this?
She cringed as she thought of everything she’d told Nick about her writing, and the resort, and her parents.
She’d thought that he was more than just an arrogant pretty boy, but obviously she should have trusted her first instincts. All he cared about
