by Tia Wylder
When we get to the airport, a bevy of flight attendants and pilots greet us, all fussing over whether or not Zachary is comfortable, even though we haven’t yet stepped foot on a plane. I just stand behind him, looking both terrified and confused, but mostly invisible. Finally, the pilot who will be flying us to Turks & Caicos comes over with a giant grin and an outstretched hand.
“Mister Graham, what a pleasure to meet you. I am Davis, and I’ll be your pilot today. And who is your lovely friend here?” The pilot winks at me, and I instinctively shrink back. Zachary gives him a wilting stare that almost seems jealous, but it can’t possibly be jealousy. Can it?
“This is my intern, Miss Webber. And unless you have some sort of neurological condition, I’ll thank you for treating her like the professional she is,” Zachary says with a tone so flat, it almost gives me a chill. Holy shit that is jealousy.
Davis nods. “My apologies. Our flight time is six hours so I will try to make it as smooth as possible. One of your lovely flight attendants will direct you to the aircraft, and from there, just make yourself comfortable.”
Zachary still looks like he’s fuming. But he’s already moving on to business matters, and he hands me his briefcase so he can pull out his tablet.
“Did the other plane get off okay? Was everyone on board?” he asks as he scrolls through the list of executives meant to meet us on the island.
“Yes, sir. They left an hour earlier because they will have to refuel their plane in New York City and it might take a little longer for them to reach the island. We wanted to time things so you’d arrive in unison. Miss Day also left earlier today, but she took a commercial flight with that… producer.” There is a distaste on Davis’ tongue when he says “producer” that catches my attention, and I really want to ask him why. But I’m suddenly being hurried on to a plane bigger than my apartment and certainly fancier, and we’re on our way to the island.
For the entire six-hour flight, we talk about nothing but the parties and dinners we need to finish planning as soon as we get there. We talk about Bethany’s demo, and her recording session with Professor Sam, to which I swear I hear the pilot scoff all the way from the cockpit. But I can’t bring myself to ask Zachary anything about Josie. Not when we’re on a plane, and all he has to do is shove me out and make it look like an accident.
Before I know it, we’ve barely scratched the surface of the planning we need to do and already landed on the island. Another car is whisking us across the island; first, we go through a small town, before suddenly we are in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful nowhere. Stretches of gorgeous beaches and green mountains and I think for a minute that I could live here forever.
The car pulls through a huge gate, and then we’re driving down a long driveway, that opens up in front of a massive, romantic tropical hotel. When we step out of the car, I can smell the ocean, but because of the huge palm trees and the size of the hotel, I can’t quite see it. The way the hotel is so secluded is almost disorienting, and soothing at the same time. I look over and Zachary, and he’s pulling down his sunglasses, and I can see in his eyes that he is thinking the same thing. He glances over at me with a smile.
“Well done, Ava. Seriously. I couldn’t have chosen any better myself.”
I laugh. “You did choose this. Before me, as far as you knew.”
“Nevertheless, we’re here. And it’s as much your doing as mine. So, let’s enjoy it while we’re here, huh?” Zachary grins and gestures for me to walk into the lobby of the hotel first, and he follows behind me. When we get in the lobby, we find that it opens up at the back and we can, at last, see the huge expanse of beach and ocean behind it. It’s stunning, and I immediately want to run out into the water, but I restrain myself. Partially because it would be unprofessional but mostly because I’m wearing one of Liza’s designer outfits and she would kill me.
Within moments, we’re surrounded by people who look more important than I could ever hope to be, in clothes that probably cost more than I would make in a month as a nonprofit attorney. Everyone is chattering, and shaking hands, and patting backs, and I am just standing there, unsure of what to do or who to talk to. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a girl who looks as out of place as I feel. She is tiny, so small I could practically fit her in my pocket, and her hair is the color of cotton candy. She is wearing jean shorts and an oversized white sweater and sitting on a small palm planter with her arms wrapped around her chest. Her massive sunglasses are hiding most of her face, but I can already tell there is something sad about her. So, I walk over with plans to introduce myself.
When I get to her, she looks up without removing her sunglasses, so I hold out my hand.
“I bet you’re Bethany, right? It’s so nice to meet you in person! I’m Ava! How was your…”
Bethany lowers her sunglasses, and I can see she’s been crying. Her blue mascara is smudged all over, and her eyes are bright red. She sniffles.
“Pleased to meet you,” she whispers. I look around to make sure no one is looking, grab her hand, and pull her into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind us. The bathroom is sparkling white in every direction, and so bright you almost have to squint to see anything, but I can still see that Bethany looks devastated. She hops up on the sink and scoots back, so she’s sitting in the corner, then tucks her legs against her chest, and sighs.
“Bethany, I know we barely know each other, but I like to think I’m pretty perceptive. And given we are in one of the most perfect places in the world, in this amazing resort, and you look like you’re about to break down into sobs, it’s clear that something is wrong. So, I’d like you to tell me,” I say as I jump up on the sink next to her.
Bethany groans. “I don’t think I can tell you, Ava. I don’t think I can tell anyone. It’s… awful. But it’s also unlikely that anyone will believe me. I know how it is in this industry and there is just no way…”
I reach out and take her hand, giving it a quick but reassuring squeeze. “I will believe you. I can promise you that. Whatever it is you have to tell me, it will feel better if you get it off your chest. Holding it in never helps, I can promise you that.” I speak from experience.
Bethany reaches over for one of the plush white towels sitting on the countertop and uses it to wipe the mascara from her eyes. Once the mascara and the rest of her eye makeup are gone, her pink hair makes her huge blue eyes pop, and I can already see why Zachary believes she’ll be popular. Between her voice and her look, she is a star. But right now, she looks like a little kid whose heart is breaking. Bethany pulls her sweater tighter around and takes a long, slow breath.
“Before we got on the plane, Sam… Professor Sam … and I was at the VIP lounge in the airport. And we were alone since we were so early, and he was drinking, despite it was around nine in the morning. He started getting handsy, and when I told him to get away from me, to stop… He… He pushed me into a supply closet and he…”
My stomach drops. I feel like my head is going is to explode from a sudden surge of rage. I know my face is turning red, because that is what happens every time I get angry, and as the tears start to well in her eyes again, I only get angrier. I take her hand in mine again as something clicks.
“Bethany, did one of the private airline pilots see it happen? Or see anything?”
She nods. “I think I saw someone come in after, a tall man. He definitely caught on to what had happened, but then the flight was boarding, and Sam was pushing me toward the gate, and I just didn’t know what to do.”
I ball my free hand into a fist, ready for a fight. I feel like I could fight just about anyone right now. “Where is he, Bethany?”
She points to the lobby. “Right out there, with all those people. Acting like nothing is wrong like he’s the frigging king of the world. And I just don’t know what to do.”
I’m just about to throw the door open and storm out when a knock from outside startles me backward. Zachary’s voice echoes through in a slight
whisper.
“Ladies? Is everything okay? You disappeared, and the door seems to be locked.”
I click the lock, swing the door open, and pull him inside of the bathroom, ignoring the look of total shock on his face as I shut the door behind us again. When he sees Bethany, his face drops.
“What’s wrong? We just got here! What the hell could have happened already?”
I look at Bethany, who shakes her head, panicked. But I’m not letting it go. “Bethany, tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Zachary asks, his face beginning to mimic the look of terror on Bethany’s.
Bethany chokes down a sob and repeats the story she just told me, but her details are even scant for Zachary than they were for me. But it takes all of three seconds for him to catch on, and his face now reflects the same rage I am feeling. He doesn’t say anything. He just turns on his heel, unlocks the door, and storms out. I look at Bethany, who looks totally confused. Neither of us is sure what to do until we hear a sudden crash from out in the lobby. That sends us running out of the bathroom after him.
Nothing could have entirely prepared us for what we find. The crowd of record executives has completely parted, and in the middle, is Zachary, on top of Professor Sam. He has Sam pinned to the ground, with his hands around his neck, and Sam looks terrified. It wouldn’t matter what side of the island you are on; everyone can probably hear Zachary’s voice.
“You son of a bitch. You think you can treat women like that? Just because you have a little bit of power? Not on my watch, asshole. You will never work in Los Angeles, or anywhere, again. Do you understand me? Everyone in the industry will know about the man you are, and I will make sure that you pay dearly for what you did to that poor girl. Now, get your bags, get in a cab, and get out of here. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”
Sam tries to squirm under Zachary’s heavy hands, but he can’t move. When he speaks, his voice is thick with worry and false guilt. “Listen, man, it was a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean any harm. Just,” he tries to squirm away again and finds no relief, “let me up, and we can talk it out.”
The record executives are all whispering, but it’s clear they know exactly what is going on. A few of them are shooting Sam serious daggers, which I find enormously satisfying. But Bethany is practically shaking at my side, so I put my arm around her. Zachary’s voice cuts through the silence of the lobby again.
“What you did isn’t a ‘misunderstanding.’ It’s a deliberate act that requires forethought, and a solid helping of pure evil. You won’t talk your way out of this. So, let me say this one more time. Get your shit. And. Go.”
The finality of Zachary’s words is clear, and he jumps up to his feet, which sends Sam scrambling across the floor. Everyone is watching him, and he is fully aware of it. So, he doesn’t say anything. Sam just retrieves his duffel bag from the line of luggage by the main desk, squares his shoulders in a final, empty act of defiance, and walks back out to the front entrance. I can see the concierge calling a car, trying to diffuse the situation as much as they can given what’s already happened. Zachary straightens his shirt, and suddenly, he’s smiling again like nothing happened.
“Sorry about that, folks. Professor Sam will no longer be enjoying the Hummingbird’s hospitality this weekend. However, we shouldn’t let that ruin our good time, or have any bearing on your time spent with the charming and delightful artist standing with my intern Ava.”
All eyes turn to Bethany and me, and I flash my brightest smile to try and make up for the fact that Bethany still looks totally shell-shocked. Zachary draws everyone’s attention back to him. “Everyone, please allow the wonderful staff to get you set up in your rooms, and then we can meet back here tonight for a lovely dinner and an acoustic performance from Bethany.”
The staff begins to rush over, take bags, and start ushering people back out of the hotel and in a dozen different directions toward the villas, leaving the three of us standing in the lobby.
“Will you be okay, Bethany? Is there anything I can do for you?” Zachary asks as he hands her a handkerchief out of his pocket. She shakes her head sadly.
“I’ll be okay. I just need a few hours to myself. Maybe sit on the beach. I’ll be ready for the show, I promise.” Bethany forces a smile and follows an attendant out toward the beach. With a long, exhausted sigh, Zachary turns to me.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but thank you for bringing it to my attention. I would never knowingly work with a man who behaved that way. If I had any idea, I would never have let him within a mile of Bethany. I hope you believe that.”
I can’t explain why, but I feel a sob catch in my throat. The way Zachary just stood up for Bethany, the lengths he went to defend her… none of it makes sense when compared with Josie’s version of him. I look at him now, and all I feel is this strange, overwhelming swell of affection. I just want to throw my arms around him, and kiss him, and tell him everything. But then the concierge is directing us to a luxury golf cart and pointing the way to The Residence, where Zachary and I will be staying. It’s a mile-and-a-half from the main hotel, and we have no time to waste if we want to get there and finish planning the dinner.
The ride across the resort to the hotel is amazing, as we fly past each of the villas, and watch the record executives walking wide-eyed into their accommodations. We pass Bethany, who is already sitting on her strip of beach, staring out at the ocean, and while I want to stop and talk to her, I know she would prefer the time to herself, so we keep going. Five minutes later, we round a corner through a grove of palm trees, and my jaw drops.
A huge villa sits atop a small hill with the ocean sparkling off to the side. The windows and doors are all open, and gauzy white curtains flutter through them, accenting the warmth of the pale wood. Zachary grins as we get out of the golf cart.
“Not bad, huh?”
I am barely able to form words. “It’s. I’ve never. Wow.”
We walk inside and see that the living room opens up at the back to a massive, glittering private pool. There are three bedrooms on the first floor and a separate villa off by the pool. I take my bag into one of the smaller bedrooms downstairs. It is small but full of light, and the bed is huge and plush. All I can think about is my crappy little bed back in Los Angeles, and how amazing it will be to sleep in this incredibly fancy bed. I'm just about jumping into and bouncing around for a minute, but Zachary calls out to me.
“You have to come see this, Ava!”
I leave the room I picked and climb the spiral staircase up to the master bedroom, but calling it a master bedroom hardly seems like enough. The entire top floor is taken up by the bedroom, which overlooks both the ocean and the pool. Palm trees are everywhere, and the sun fills the room, illuminating the beautiful white wood and white tile floors. A four-poster bed covered in gauzy fabric and a dozen fluffy pillows takes up the entire center of the room, and there are plush couches and chairs everywhere. The room is bright, and beautiful, and warm, and I want to stay here forever.
Zachary is standing in front of the huge balcony doors, and a soft island breeze is drifting in, blowing his dark hair into his eyes. I feel that familiar tightness in my stomach at the sight of him, and I try to remind myself to keep it together. But suddenly, I am having trouble remembering the point of any of this. If Zachary were anything like Josie seemed to think he was, I can’t believe he would have stood up for Bethany the way he did. He was strong, and caring, and seemed passionate about protecting women.
Could he have ever intentionally hurt my sister when he leaped to Bethany’s defense like a lion protecting its pack?
Zachary smiles at me. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I’ll tell you one thing; when Donovan and I were growing up, we never imagined a future like this. Where we would have access to amazing things like this, or fly in private planes, or eat amazing food. Believe me, this is not a life I never pictured for myself… But I’m sure not complaining.”
I tilt my he
ad. “You didn’t have much growing up?”
“We didn’t have anything growing up. Donovan and I were foster kids. We bounced around from house to house for most of our childhood until I aged out of the system and took custody of van. Then we both busted our asses for years until we could make something of ourselves. Now, here we are. He takes everything a little more seriously than I do, but I think that’s the nature of being the little brother. He feels like he has to work harder for everything like he owes me something. He doesn’t owe me anything of course, but I…”
I don’t know what comes over me, but it happens in a flash. I cross the room, almost tripping over the heels I don’t really know how to walk in, throw my arms around Zachary’s waste, and kiss him. I kiss him long, and slow, and at first, he doesn’t reciprocate. I’ve made a horrible mistake, I think, about to pull away. But then he wraps his arms around me, and pulls me closer, holding me tight as he returns my desperate kiss. His tongue gently explores my mouth, then becomes more insistent, tracing the lines of my lips with the tip. He gives me a tender squeeze, then pulls back, his eyes dancing with surprise and lust.