by Ember Flint
“Friends? Plural?”
“Yep. Fay’s here for a few months,” I explain, twirling the little umbrella in the tea and using it to push around the melting ice cubes.
“Shouldn’t she be in school?” my brother asks, his voice all growly and dark.
“I frown. Uh… not in August, you dumbass.”
He mumbles something too low for me to catch and I sigh.
Cole has always liked Cali and started to treat her like another little sister from the get-go, but for some reason he can barely stand to be in Fay’s presence for more than a few seconds and he always acts surly when I mention her.
Fay herself can hardly tolerate to be in my brother’s presence. Come to think of it, I can’t even remember the last time they were in the same place.
They tend to avoid each other like the plague, but when asked about it, they always deny it’s on purpose.
Cali and I still don’t know what the fuck happened there.
“You there?” I ask, taking another swag of my rapidly warming tea.
“Yeah…”
“Wanna know what else is great about this job? I get to live here if I get it. Cali told me that all the employees can stay in these little cute cottages… they’re further away from the shore, where the cabanas of the guests are, but they’re still only a five minutes’ walk from the beach and the resort’s main facilities where I would be working. And the place would be rent-free and with utilities included, which means that even if things wouldn’t work out long-term, I’d have still managed to save some money to get a better place later on.”
My brother scoffs. “El, you could have had a better place from the start if only you accepted my offer to live in my building. You know I have a unit ready for you there,” he mutters.
Like I don’t know that!
I’ve been tempted more than once to just throw in the towel and move there, my apartment sucks balls big time, but I’m too proud to let my brother pay my way and my present living arrangements could be worse anyway: at least the neighborhood it’s good.
“I don’t think so, Bro.”
“Why? You could work for me again and—”
“Nah-ha, stop right there, Cole, no way I’ll ever work for you again. We’d drive each other nuts in less than two hours.”
Cole laughs. “That is probably true and also completely your fault, for the record.”
“Yeah, right! Now, stop worrying for a sec and wish me good luck already! This is a big opportunity for me and you know it!”
He exhales noisily. “Alright. Good luck, Lil’ Sis. Knock ‘em dead.”
I smile. “Thank you. Gotta go now. Talk to you soon.”
I hang up the phone before he can start with his usual safety drivel, but I barely manage to drum my fingers on the edge of the counter once before my phone beeps with one text and then another and another.
I laugh, shaking my head as I read the first and get a little teary-eyed when I read the second and the third.
Cole: “It’s getting late, Sis. Don’t get on the bus if the interview takes too long. Ask Cali to crash at her place, okay?”
Cole: “They would be lucky to have you, El. You are the best damn assistant that ever quit on me”.
Me: “Sure, Bro and thanks.”
The third text is from my mom who has known about the interview since the moment I got off the phone with Cali yesterday morning.
We’re a very close little family and we share. A lot.
Mom: “Don’t worry about a thing, baby. U got this. Just B yourself. Love U.”
Me: “Tnx, Mom. <3 U 2.”
Five minutes later a distinguished-looking and quite beautiful slender woman of about sixty, attired in an elegant but low-key smart ensemble of off-white linen slacks and a pale blue short-sleeved silk blouse walks up to me with a smile that immediately puts me at ease.
“You must be Elliot.”
I stand up nodding and I offer her my hand to shake. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Woodhouse.”
“Likewise, but call me Regina, please. I hate to stand on formalities.”
Her smile gets bigger, two small fans of wrinkles appearing at the corners of her sharp aqua-green eyes, and for a moment there is an amused glint in them I can’t quite place. I’ve never seen eyes quite like hers: they’re a very cool shade of almost blue-green and yet there’s a warmth to their depths that breaks through the coldness of the color.
I smile back. “I will, thank you and call me Ellie, please.”
She nods, taking the stool next to mine and gesturing for me to seat back.
She shakes her head of perfectly coiffed light brown hair with a sigh, turning to the side to look at me. “Damn old age. It’s a mere couple of minutes from the hotel, but I’m already parched. I’m not used to this constant Florida sun.”
I nod. “I’m not used to it either and I’ve been here all my life.”
We both laugh.
Regina eyes my now less than appealing glass of hot and watered-down tea. “Do you want something else to drink, dear?”
“Well, some cold water would be nice.”
She grins and gracefully twirls her fingers in the air to get the attention of one of the bartenders manning the counter. “Water for you and some nice colorful cocktail that requires lots of shaking for me.”
I frown, puzzled.
She leans into me and whispers. “You’ll understand why when you see the little dances those sexy young things over there can put up when they shake something in those mixers of theirs.”
I feel myself flush pink and she cackles.
“Oh, don’t worry, Ellie: I’m not one of those crazy old ladies running behind boys half their age, but looking never hurt anyone, right?”
I smile. “I guess.”
“Now, tell me everything there is to know about you, sweetheart. Calista had such amazing things to say about you and she told me what happened after your former boss retired and how infamously your new employer acted with you. It broke my heart to hear it.”
Hmm.
Well, I should have known: my best friend doesn’t mince words.
But I also know she’s not one to blab about this kind of stuff with just about anybody. If she told this lady about this stuff it’s because she deemed her trustworthy.
I spend the next twenty minutes fielding more questions in the space of this single conversation than I’ve ever been asked in any other interview in my entire life and most of them have little to do with my academic exploits or my experience in the business world.
I’m not exactly a shy person, yet at the same time, I’m not even one to open up so much with a stranger, but I guess Regina is just one of those folks you end up sharing the entire story of your life with effortlessly and without meaning to.
She is a great listener and while she has asked me very personal questions, she has done it in such a sweet, unassuming way that I couldn’t help but answer them.
We’ve talked about my likes and dislikes, about my dreams, my hopes, my family, my friends and even briefly touched on my romantic life —or better yet, the lack of romance in it.
This is by far the weirdest interview I’ve ever had and when Regina stands up and invites me to accompany her for a stroll on the beach I’m almost positive I’ve made a friend for life, but I have no idea if I’m going to ever get this job.
Probably not.
It can’t be good if the meeting turned into a friendly chat and the topics we discussed, aside from the very first five minutes or so, had very little to do with business or being a PA, right?
Is this why she’s being so nice and motherly toward me?
She knows I don’t have what it takes to be some New York’s Boardroom shark PA and she’s acting like this to let me down easy?
My shoulders slump as we walk.
I kick at the white sand, wishing I could barefoot right now so that I could feel its hea
t on my skin as it sifted through my toes and that’s when Regina abruptly stops walking and surprises me even more.
“Well, why the long face, my dear? Shouldn’t you be happy you got the job?”
Wait what?
“I… I did?”
She smiles and then laughs. “Yes, you did.”
“Just like this? On the spot?”
And what are you doing now, Elliot, trying to talk this nice lady out of hiring you?
Still, this is totally weird.
I was expecting the typical ‘we’ll be in touch’ at this point and then afterward if I was so lucky, the usual routine: a second —maybe even a third— interview, background checks on my fluffy ass all over the place as far back as to see if I ever pushed someone in kindergarten and all those shenanigans that are part of the ‘will they/won’t they hire me?’ dramarama.
But she just hired me off the street — or rather, off the shore— instead?
Regina softly clutches my shoulder. “Yes, Ellie, just like this. I know quality when I see it, trust me. Over forty years fending off Manhattan’s vilest phonies taught me a thing or two about how to recognize people of good character.”
I smile in thanks at the indirect commendation. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, darling. Now, I’ll go up and have someone at HR draw up your contract and things right away and in the meantime you can catch up with your friends.”
“That would be great!”
I’m dreaming. Am I not?!
This doesn’t make sense at all.
“Excellent. Have Calista and Fay show you around… I’ll let Chrystal know to be on the lookout for you girls, she’s one of the facility’s manager and she can probably fix you up in a cottage in a trice.”
“You mean I’ll be moving here directly?” I ask, incredulously and she nods.
She stops to pick up a shell and studies it intently before throwing it amidst the softly swooshing waves. “That’s right.”
But still it can’t be this easy.
“What about my old job, though? I have to give them two weeks’ notice.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. Our legal department will deal with it. It’s a no matter.”
Is she kidding?
“You make it sound so easy, Regina.”
She gives me this look I don’t understand and then she smirks. “Only because it is, my dear, only because it is…”
“And what about background checks and stuff?”
Regina waves my words away. “We can easily run those while you settle here in Puesta del Sol, dear. It’s not like we’re going to find anything, anyway. Am I right? No sense in keeping you all alone in that little apartment in the city…”
So I guess I’m staying then.
Uh.
Chapter 3
DAMON
The jet starts to slow down on the airstrip just as the sun drops low in the sky, tinging the blue waters of the Gulf in bright shades of orange, pink and purple.
I haven’t been here in months and part of me had started to think that maybe I had built this island up in my head, but it takes me just this one look toward the ocean gently lapping at the snow-white shore to reconsider.
I don’t know what it is about this place, but it has a calming effect on me, something I can’t really explain away rationally.
I already feel the built-up of too many hours of work and the stress I always carry around slide off me.
I look at my brother and I can see the same kind of peace descend into his aqua-green eyes.
We smile at each other, saying nothing as we wait for our pilot to give us the okay to deplane.
“Damn this place is fucking amazing! Can’t you guys think about a reason why I could stay here six months instead of three?”
It’s Patrick, Weston’s PA, that breaks the silence.
An awed grin splitting his face.
We chuckle at his words.
“No can do. If I’m hauling ass back to New York, so are you, buddy,” my brother grumbles.
Less than two minutes here and already he doesn’t want to go back home.
I know the feeling.
It’s what made us buy the Key in the first place.
Initially, we thought, with our business hats firmly planted on our heads, that a place that made you feel like this was just the perfect spot to build the type of resort we wanted; we felt that with such a stunning natural backdrop to it, no one would ever want to leave, which means repeat-customers, which means a shitload of money for us.
After we came down with the architects and the construction crews the island started to grow on us on a personal level too and now, crazily enough, it feels a little bit like a ‘home away from home’.
I can’t keep all the properties I own straight sometimes and some of them have just as breathtakingly beautiful backgrounds, but I don’t miss them when I leave.
Puesta del Sol on the other hand, kinda speaks to me.
It’s a murmur that I have yet to understand, but suffice it to say, I love my penthouse suite here at the Sundown Plaza more than I do my own apartment back home and I’m pretty sure Weston feels the same.
I spot our mom on the tarmac, waiving at us and I smile.
“And there’s your boss, over there,” Weston murmurs and I shake my head, laughing.
“Like she’s only my boss, Bro. Ready to meet that Callie… Kelly-whatever person she always goes on about?” I tease and he swears softly.
“Yeah, just as ready as I am to have a dentist pull out all of my teeth with no anesthetic,” he gripes.
Patrick chuckles. “I’m so gonna tell her you said that…’
Weston shots him a deadly stare. “I’m so gonna fire you for even joking about it.”
Patrick laughs harder.
I shake my head as we start to step down.
I lean closer to him, elbowing him a little. “You only laugh ‘cause you don’t know what it means to have Regina Thorpe-Broderick on your ass about marriage, but don’t worry: I’ll let her know you’re eager to settle down.”
He immediately stops laughing.
As soon as we’re out of the plane the warm, muggy air hits my face and I grimace.
The boiling heat and the suffocating humidity are this island’s only glaring flaw.
It’s easy to combat them indoors or while swimming in the Gulf or in one of the pools, but they really are staggering when you walk around, especially for a non-Florida-native.
My throat becomes instantly parched while my white linen shirt immediately sticks to my back and I’m glad I wore light cargo pants.
It must be at least 90 °F out here, but with the moisture floating around it feels like 100 °F.
Still the air smells divine, salty like the ocean and at the same time sweet and fragrant with the perfume of the colorful tropical flowers growing all over the place.
Our mom walks up to us with a big grin on her face and goes through the usual ‘worried mother routine’ while she smooches our cheeks like we’re three.
She starts to bombard us with a million questions, barely giving us time to keep up, our ploy to distract her with presents stored in the iconic flat orange boxes she loves so much, nosediving pretty rapidly.
“Oh Hermes! How thoughtful, darlings! How was the flight? Have you boys eaten anything since this morning or did you spend the entire flight over with a damn phone stuck to your ear? What do I have to do with you?! You do look awfully pale, Damon, sweetie… you look a little better Weston, probably because of all those runs in the park, but oh: you are so thin though, baby!”
I look at my brother and shake my head, unseen. We’re both tall and built like a tank, it runs in the family, but he likes to really hit the gym a lot —a residue of his former Army life— so he is a little bigger than me, no way could he be called ‘thin’ by anyone but our mother.
She lets go of my arm and reach
es up to squeeze Weston’s cheek.
He has to bend almost in half to let her do her thing and I smile at the familiar scene.
She might drive us up the wall with her matchmaking manias, but we are lucky bastards and we know it. I’d take my mother’s buttinskyness over the coldness of the typical high-society parents I’ve seen my friends endure over the years any day.
I hear Patrick snickers behind us and that’s when my mom’s eagle eye lands on him.
Oh he is so fucked.
His mother passed a few years back and ours practically adopted him.
She abandons our side and walks up to him, picking up her fretting from where she left it with us.
“Why, Pat, darling, you have such bags under your eyes! My son makes you work too hard. And you too are so thin! We need to remedy this at once!”
I take pity on him after she starts to really go to town with the embarrassing questions before Patrick combusts, stopping her at ‘or is some pretty lady keeping you up at night that’s giving you such dark circles?’
“So… Mom, how is my new assistant doing here? Has he settled in his cottage yet?” I ask.
She turns to look at me briefly and then drops her eyes on her French-tipped nails. “Oh sure, sure, darling! Elliot is perfectly fine.”
I nod.
I had a look through this guy’s résumé and it’s really promising. He is a bit young and doesn’t have has much experience as I would normally require, but he had all the expected qualifications and the fact that his previous boss owned an upscale hotel in Miami makes him just about perfect for the job; plus, mom really approves of this boy, she was going on and on about him on the phone and she has never steered me wrong in the past.
“How are things on the guests’ front, Ma’?” Weston asks as we walk toward the hotel.
She smiles and sighs. “Everything is running smoothly. They started trickling in at the crack of dawn this morning and they tell me there hasn’t been a single complaint. The guests are eager to mingle and have fun at the inauguration party tonight and we don’t have a single empty room up at the Plaza aside from your suites, guys. I spoke with someone of our most esteemed guests myself and they had such amazing things to say about our little gem in the ocean and quite a few already wanted to rebook for another vacation in a couple of months, imagine their faces when I told them we were booked solid for a year already!”