One Way Ticket

by Tricia O'Malley

  And cursed.

  “And what is it you’ll be doing here?” the gardener asked, pulling gloves from his hands and slapping them once before depositing them into the back pocket of his shorts.

  “I…well, CeCe hired me to be the new coordinator. She said you’d recently lost one?”

  “We didn’t lose her. She knew how to find her way out.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means she wasn’t lost. We told her to go. And it wasn’t much of a loss considering she damn well couldn’t even manage a spreadsheet.”

  “Oh. Um.” Paige wasn’t sure what to say to that. All she knew was that she wanted a shower and a change of clothes, like, yesterday.

  “When did you speak with CeCe?” the man said, sighing.

  “I’m sorry… who are you?” Paige finally said, trying to gain the upper hand on the conversation.

  “The name’s Jack. And you?”

  “I’m Paige. I just told you that. Is my name that forgettable?” She clamped her lips together when she realized she’d said that last part out loud. A hint of a smile ghosted across Jack’s face, and he shook his head once.

  “Not at all. Okay, Paige. Welcome to our particular brand of crazy. Let’s get you settled.”

  “What does that mean? Are you the Jack the folks at the airport said to find?”

  “That’s me, much to my annoyance,” Jack said, hefting her duffle bag like it weighed nothing. He strode through the empty reception area, following a gravel path that wound its way to a collection of smaller thatched huts.

  “Wait, where are we going? Where’s CeCe?”

  “I’m taking you to your room. I assume you’ll be wanting to change since you’re sweating harder than a whore in church, and then I’ll be taking you to Ms. CeCe.”

  “Oh because you’re fresh as a daisy?” Whoops, Paige thought as Jack paused and leveled a look at her. Paige pasted a bright smile on her face and he swore softly under his breath and shook his head.

  So much for making a good first impression, Paige thought. But she wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like this man was all well-appointed himself.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Thanks, I guess?” Paige said, not sure she was particularly welcome, and made a note that Jack should definitely not greet any of the incoming guests if this was his attitude.

  “Here you are. Key’s in the door. There’s a safe in the closet for valuables and your passport. Please try to only run the air conditioning at night. Not like it even works most of the time. There’s no hot water.”

  “No hot water?” Paige stopped at the door to the little hut. Painted a bright white, with a palm thatched roof and bright blue shutters on the windows, it seemed simple, happy, and like it would catch the ocean breezes…if she ever opened her windows to this heat.

  “You need hot water in this humidity?” Jack gestured with one hand.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “But…I wanted to take a shower.”

  “Take a shower after. I don’t have time to babysit you right now.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Paige bit out and moved into the hut. It had one small room, with a tiny bathroom attached. There was a double bed, a dresser, a small television, a fan, and an air-con unit on the wall. The room was sparse, with little in the way of frills, but frankly, Paige was simply happy to have her own space. Dumping her duffle on the bed, she dug out an airy dress in crimson and changed quickly, cringing at the dampness of her bra. Opting to change that as well, Paige ran a stick of deodorant under her arms and adjusted her hair. Grabbing the key, she locked the door behind her and met Jack where he lounged against a palm tree.

  “Pull the shades next time.”

  “Excuse me?” Paige said, heat lashing her cheeks. “Did you just watch me change?”

  “I looked away. Others might not.”

  “What others? You said you were closed.”

  “Fine, keep ’em open. I enjoy a peep show on occasion.” Jack shrugged and turned, Paige stumbling after him to keep up on the path that curved between the palm trees and around the back side of the reception hall.

  “Is there a reason you’re being rude to me?” Paige asked, feeling bold.

  “You’re about to find out,” Jack murmured.

  “Great, lovely, so happy to be here. You know, as your new coordinator, I hope this isn’t how you greet all your guests.”

  Jack said nothing as they turned to what looked to be a bar and hangout area. Little tables clustered around a curved bamboo bar where a luscious knockout of a bartender stared daggers, and a couple, dressed for yachting, turned to look at them.

  “Well, Jack, who’s this? Do you have a new friend?”

  The woman was likely to be in her late forties, but it was hard to tell as she may have had some discreet work done. She gave Paige the once-over. This must be CeCe, Paige thought. Dressed in fitted white skinny jeans, a wrap-style fuchsia silk blouse, with a chunky gold braided necklace at her throat, CeCe looked rich, crisply beautiful, and three sheets to the wind. She stumbled a little as she stood from her chair, and the man next to her, handsome in a private school sort of way, grabbed CeCe’s arm to steady her.

  “I’m Paige Lowry,” Paige said, smiling at her.

  “That’s nice, darling. CeCe Alderidge. And this handsome chap of a man is Whitaker Alderidge, though we call him Whit. Won’t you join us for happy hour?”

  “I…I’m not sure?” Paige looked from Jack, who said nothing, back to CeCe.

  “Don’t you drink, darling? Why, everyone has to drink on an island. You can’t have happy hour sunsets with none of the happy, no?”

  “I’m Paige. Your new employee. You hired me to be your new coordinator?” Paige supplied before CeCe could commandeer a drink for her. She wasn’t sure that drinking on her new job would go over all that well. Silence fell on the group as they all turned to look at CeCe and then back to Paige. Confusion crossed CeCe’s face, before a wide smile broke out.

  “Did I now? Fancy that!” CeCe threw her head back and rocked with laughter, almost falling over before steadying herself on the bar. “Well, in that case, you’re definitely entitled to a drink.”

  Goddess help her, she needed one, Paige decided as she watched Jack slink away, shaking his head. Just what had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter Four

  “Paige, darling, an absolute delight to meet you.” Whit took her hand and drew her close, his eyes drinking her in, making her feel like she was the only woman in the world. When his gaze dropped momentarily to her cleavage, Paige darted a glance to where CeCe chattered to the bartender. Whit had the look of a man with money who tried to look casually eccentric…his hair just a smidge too long for country club life, and his linen shorts lightly wrinkled. With a martini in one hand, he easily looked like he could be talking about stocks at a stiffly pretentious party as he was propping up the bar at Tranquila Inn. “Aren’t you stunning? The local lads will eat you right up.”

  Paige wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but was saved from answering when the bartender interrupted their conversation.

  “What will you have?”

  “Hi, I’m Paige. I love your necklace. Is it handmade?” Paige asked the beautiful bartender. She’d worked in customer service for years, and she knew it was always important to be respectful of the person serving her. Though the woman had looked murderous when she’d first arrived in tow behind Jack, now her expression softened slightly at Paige’s words.

  “My daughter made it for me. I’m Mariposa, by the way,” she said. Her necklace was a simple white cowrie shell strung on a leather cord with two turquoise beads on either side. It might not have been fancy like CeCe’s chunky gold necklace, but against Mariposa’s tanned skin and wild dark curls, it looked exotic.

  “Nice to meet you, Mariposa. How old is your daughter?”

  “She’s eleven going on thirty,” Mariposa finally smiled, causing
Paige to catch her breath. This woman could easily be on the front cover of magazines.

  “Weren’t we all at that age?” CeCe trilled, waving her hand in the air. “I thought I knew everything about the world and nobody could tell me differently.”

  “Not much has changed, love, has it?” Whit said, wrapping an arm around CeCe’s waist.

  “I suppose not, darling.” CeCe tossed her blond hair and laughed a robust laugh. It was the type of laugh meant to draw attention to her – the scratch of a record during a party – and Paige suspected she knew exactly what she was about. This was a woman who did not enjoy sharing the limelight. How she had hired a woman like Mariposa was beyond Paige, since despite CeCe’s loud personality, all eyes would go to the bartender.

  “I’ll have something light…” Paige turned to Mariposa, “A prosecco maybe? Or a light wine?”

  “Will a rosé do you?” Mariposa asked.

  “Yes, that will be perfect. Thanks.” Paige had quickly surmised that a drink was exactly the thing she would need to get through this introduction.

  “Sit, sit, please,” Whit said, pulling out a bamboo stool next to the bar.

  “I’ll just tell chef we have one more for dinner,” CeCe said, floating away with her martini in hand and calling for the chef. Paige wondered if there would be name cards at dinner, or if they were just doing their best to put on fancy airs when this hotel clearly didn’t call for it. Accepting her drink with a grateful smile, Paige took a small sip and turned to study the lounge area. While the hotel wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t run-down or in disrepair either. If anything, it struck the right notes between offbeat charming and relaxing oasis. Under the large thatched roof of the open-air reception hall, wicker chairs and low-slung couches were clustered together in various conversation and eating areas. A tropical banana leaf print covered the chair cushions, and far above their heads, huge bamboo fans and wicker basket-style lanterns hung from the roof. The soft pulse of reggae music encouraged the island vibe, and Paige found her foot tapping to the beat. The building itself was positioned well to catch the breezes from the ocean, and Paige could imagine it would be easy to relax here over drinks while looking out to the water for dolphins.

  “Do you get dolphins here?” Paige asked, turning to Whit.

  “Of course the dolphins visit us,” Whit said as though it was the most natural occurrence in the world. “As do eels, stingrays, and if we’re lucky enough, a few pilot whales.”

  “The dolphins come by late afternoon. They have a routine. You can go out and swim with them,” Mariposa supplied as she took a sip of her Sprite. Paige wondered if she didn’t drink or just didn’t drink on the job. It was hard to get a read on her employers so far, and Jack had hightailed it as soon as he’d dumped her at the bar.

  “That’s pretty amazing.” Paige smiled. “I’m sure your guests love that.” So would she, Paige thought, and made a mental note to slip away one day and get in the water with the dolphins.

  “They do, they really do,” Whit said, leaning one arm on the bar and smiling down at her. “Tell me, gorgeous, what is it you did in the States again?”

  “Um,” Paige blinked at his words, and caught Mariposa rolling her eyes behind his back. “I was a business coordinator for a yoga studio. In fact, for the studio that was meant to come here next week for the upcoming yoga retreat.”

  “Ah, a business coordinator. Sounds absolutely smashing. Doesn’t it, Mariposa?”

  “Does it?” Mariposa questioned Whit who completely ignored her dark look.

  “I do admire a woman with brains. I’m sure it took you positively ages to deal with all the ins and outs of running such a business. You’ll have to tell me all about it one night.”

  Before Paige could issue a gentle reprimand of her employer’s blatant advances, CeCe floated back into the room, her martini glass empty and her eyes bright.

  “The chef will be delighted to add you to the menu. He has some lovely pieces of fresh-caught tuna tonight. Have I told you about the time I was in Sardinia? The seafood there…” CeCe sighed and brought her hands to her lips and made a kissing noise.

  “Um, no, I haven’t heard…” Paige said, taking another sip from her drink.

  “Oh, darling, you must go. It’s simply to die for. But you know, not much time for travel these days. I’m just so busy all the time. We have so many projects, you know,” CeCe said, brushing a wayward lock of blond hair back from her cheek and accepting a fresh martini from Mariposa.

  “Right,” Paige nodded, glancing around at the empty hotel. “I’m sure there’s much to do to run a place like this.”

  “Soooo much,” CeCe drawled. She climbed onto a stool and crossed her legs neatly, smoothing her pants and smiling brightly at Paige. “You must tell me everything about yourself, gorgeous. I’m sure you’ve an enlightening story to share.”

  Hmm, Paige thought, were both her employers hitting on her? Perhaps they were swingers? Or maybe it was just the way they talked? Deciding to reserve judgement for now, otherwise she’d run screaming back to the airport, Paige took a deep breath and recapped the story she’d already told to CeCe over the phone.

  “Dearest Paige, what a tragic thing to have happen to you,” Whit said with mournful eyes. Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “I can only hope your time at Tranquila Inn will allow for you to release the past.”

  “I’m not sure that tragic is the word for it. Expected, maybe”— CeCe tapped a finger against her lips —“As men tend to wander. Nevertheless, I don’t think I like the sound of this Horatio. He seems to be quite the cad, and I’m certain you’re the better for being here. We are in desperate need of your help. We’re just so busy, you know.”

  Again, Paige couldn’t help but glance to the empty reception area and then back to Mariposa. This time, the bartender just pressed her lips together and gave a little shrug of her shoulders. Perhaps CeCe’s obsession with being so busy kept her occupied enough not to realize they weren’t actually busy?

  “Sure, well, I’m happy to help ease that burden a bit. I’d love to get started. Are there any books I can look at? Calendars? Schedules? Oh, and I’ll need to sign an employment contract, of course,” Paige trailed off as both Whit and CeCe stared at her like she’d thrown a cockroach in their face.

  “They don’t like to talk about work during happy hour. One does not mix the two,” Mariposa supplied.

  “But…it’s not even happy hour…” Paige stopped as the look of disgust deepened on both her employers’ faces. “I meant to say…sure, of course, we should relax and get to know each other first.”

  “That’s right, darling. You’ve just traveled all this way from…” CeCe arched a brow at her.

  “California.” Paige sighed and took a large gulp of her wine.

  “Of course. What a long way to come! There’s plenty of time for work talk tomorrow. You need to relax, have a drink, enjoy yourself. Take it poco poco, as the locals say.”

  “I guess we do have time since the retreat’s been cancelled,” Paige mused, knowing that Yoga Soulone’s retreat had been meant to fill up the entire hotel for the next three weeks. “Is that what poco poco means then? Take it slow?”

  “Yes, slow or easy. Much like Tranquila,” Mariposa said, reaching across the bar to top off Paige’s glass, though she hadn’t requested it. “Why rush? So you can race your way to death?”

  “Um,” Paige said, not sure how to respond to that.

  “She’s absolutely right, you know,” Whit smiled over at her, his teeth blindingly white in his tanned face. “Life is meant to be savored slowly, like you’re eating at a buffet. Why load your first plate up with everything and then exhaust yourself? It’s best to take a small salad plate and sample as you go. You’ll enjoy more and your energy is preserved.”

  “Right,” Paige said, and wondered if that was also his attitude when it came to other women. She was completely unsure how to proceed with these two. “You’re talking about mindfulness. Livi
ng life in a mindful manner causes you to slow down and appreciate the little moments.”

  “That’s exactly it. Aren’t you just exquisite?” Whit applauded her like she was the prize dog who’d just won best in show. “Now, tell me, what have you been reading lately? I’ve just done a deep dive into Scientology, and I find it fascinating how they’ve roped people into believing their ways.”

  “Oh, don’t go on and bore us with your latest books, darling. Don’t you see the girl is knackered? She’s been traveling. She needs more wine and less interrogation.”

  “It’s hardly…” Paige looked between the two. “I don’t…”

  “I’m certainly not interrogating the girl by asking what she’s been reading,” Whit said.

  “Of course not, darling. But you don’t really care about her books. You just wanted to use it as a jumping-off point to talk about what you’ve been reading,” CeCe said, smiling though her voice sliced like razors. At least it sounded that way to Paige, though Whit didn’t even flinch.

  “Categorically untrue. Perhaps she’s reading the same book? Or has read it? Then we’d have a mutual topic to discuss. It’s as though you’ve forgotten how to have good dinner conversation, darling.” Whit smiled at his wife and for all Paige could read, he was not remotely bothered by the ice in CeCe’s voice.

  “We’re not at dinner, are we? And, I do admit, this island does strain dreadfully on my manners at times. We do the best we can, don’t we, darling?”

  “We certainly do, my love.”

  Paige couldn’t decide if they were intensely drunk, intensely crazy, or a perfect combination of both.