Once Upon a Summer

by Brooke Moss

  “But I...”

  “Didn’t know?” he says. “I gathered that. Your ignorance will be hard to defend since, not only did he not qualify, he mooned the judges when the final scores were posted.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand in what is internationally recognized as the symbol for ‘Oops I made a terrible mistake.’

  “I understand it’s the highest trending video on YouTube.” Ezra can’t contain an eyeball roll. “I’m a little shocked you haven’t seen it yet.”

  Fuck. Fuck Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.

  “So, Vivienne,” he says. “The Opening Ceremonies of the Winter Olympic games begin in less than forty-eight hours. How do you advise our client to move forward?”

  “Er...” Words escape me. I’m at a loss. I’m used to helping people get out of messes other people created, not the ones made by my own hand. I glance down at my lap where my phone is jumping and vibrating in my hands.

  “Do you need to get that?” Ezra asks.

  “No. It’s fine.”

  “Please. I insist. You’ve had at least three incoming calls since you’ve been in my office. Answer it.” He demands.

  Responding to his command, I raise the phone to my ear, fearing for my life. “Hello?”

  “Vivienne? It’s Pete. I’m back.” She sounds gloriously happy. “Good news. Suzanne and I bought you a ticket to Maui.” Her shriek of excitement is so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “You’re going to have to cash in some of your precious vacation time...because you’re going on a tropical island vacation.” Her shouts of happiness reverberate through Ezra’s office. His face looks void of any humor.

  “I can’t. I can’t talk, Pete. Not now. This is not a good time for me,” I whisper harshly before hitting the button to end the call.

  I flash a stiff smile at Ezra. He scowls in response. “I’m sorry. Where were we?” I ask.

  “Brown & Fox never should’ve recommended Kai Cooper for an ad campaign knowing he was ‘The Long Shot.’ You didn’t do your due diligence, and your research was very sloppy. You’ve cost our client millions of dollars. Their campaign is completely worthless.” Ezra doesn’t pull any punches.

  I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep tears from fall. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of Ezra Brown.

  “So I called you here today, to let you know your services are no longer needed,” Ezra snaps. “Security will escort you to HR. They’ll stay with you while you clean out your desk and leave the building as soon as you’re done.”

  I wobble to my feet and take long the walk of shame to the double doors of his office. Once I’m on the other side, I let go and let my tears flow. I can’t believe I screwed up so badly. This is bad.

  My phone rings in the elevator on my way down to Human Resources. I glance up at my uniformed security escort before I tentatively answer it. “Hello?”

  “Vivienne. It’s Pete. Are you there?” she asks. “I think we got cut off earlier.”

  “I’m here.” My voice wavers as I sag against the side of the elevator. I had forgotten Petey is like a terrier with a bone. She just can’t let go.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Who’s dead?”

  “I screwed up. Made a million dollar mistake, and I got fired.”

  “Oh. Is that all?” Petey laughs.

  “Seriously, Petey,” I hiss. “You can afford to make jokes, but I really need this job.”

  “No you don’t. You need Hawaii, baby,” she says. “It’s perfect timing.”

  I take a deep breath, still not convinced. “Maybe that’s how it works in your world, but not in mine.”

  “Cheer up, darling,” Petey burbles with delight. “Jessica arranged free lodging for you in Maui. One of Eric’s obscenely rich relatives booked a two-bedroom beach cottage. So you’ll go to sleep every night to the sounds of the ocean right outside your door. I’m so jealous. How lucky are you?”

  I pout. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

  Petey isn’t listening. “You’ll go. You’ll smile. You’ll dance.”

  “With who?”

  “The man who asks you.”

  “What man is going to ask me to dance?”

  “You’re going to Maui, baby. Something magical will happen. I promise.”

  I stop crying long enough to laugh. How can I weep and be sad when I have such generous friends?

  “Promise me you’ll have a good time?” she begs.

  “I promise.” I say it, but don’t mean it. Not by a long shot.

  All of my personal items from my cubicle fit easily into one legal-file box. No surprise. I fold up the map of the world and put it on top before I close the lid. Fifteen years at Brown & Fox Media sure doesn’t weigh much. I leave my security escort behind in the lobby, then lug my box across the street. If I’m going to Maui, I need to pick up a few things. At least, that’s what I’ve seen people do in the movies.

  I know it’s not accurate, but you’ve got to give a woman standing in the middle of Target during a heavy snowstorm a little leeway. Having rarely been outside of the Chicago city limits, warped imagination believes every woman in the Hawaiian Islands has a BMI index of less than twenty-four, which is why they can wear bikini tops made out of coconuts and clamshells. There aren’t enough coconuts in all of the Hawaiian Islands to cover me.

  Have I mentioned I’m allergic to the great outdoors? Dust. Mold. Mildew. Pollen. Fur. The ‘Big Five’ of allergens, I can’t tolerate any of them. I toss a package of Benadryl into my cart on top of the bathing suit I grab off the rack.

  I’m checking out clearance sale luggage, when Suzi calls.

  “I just talked to Petey. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, but I need an attorney. HR says I can’t get my severance package until I sign and return the separation agreement to them. Is that normal?”

  “Yes and no,” she reassures me. “Email me the paperwork and your last pay stub. I’ll call you back as soon as I review it.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  I throw a few pieces of summer clothes in my new plastic suitcase when I get back to my apartment. An Uber ride later, I’m watching the ground fade away during takeoff. Chicago looks totally different from the air. It’s the last thing I remember before the Xanax kicks in. The next thing I know, a stewardess is nudging me on the shoulder.

  “We’re here,” she whispers. “Kahului.”

  I’m the last passenger, so I exit the Jetway into the terminal in the company of the flight crew.

  The warm and humid air clings to my body like Saran Wrap. It’s actually raining in the open-air baggage claim area. Not a gentle rain. A monsoon drops pounding water on the floor in drenching sheets. Large raindrops blow through the decorative holes in the roof and splash me in the face. This kind of weather was not in the brochure. I grab my bag off the carousel, and go in search of the shuttle to the hotel. By the time I find the waiting area, everything, including me, is sopping wet. I look like a wet cocker spaniel when I climb into the back of the hotel shuttle. I can’t see anything in the darkness outside of the windows. We arrive under the arch of a sprawling luxury beachfront hotel and a tiny Asian woman in a brightly colored sarong runs out to greet me.

  “Aloha.” She smiles in a way that makes me believe she’s never had a bad day in her life. Then she places a lei of citrus-scented tuberoses around my neck. I inhale the sweet scent. It’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.

  I pick up a keycard for the beach cottage at the front desk. My roommate hasn’t checked in yet. The bellboy takes my suitcase and gestures for me to follow him. I’m still fumbling with my tote bag when he takes off, sprinting across the lobby and out into the garden. I run after him. Blindly following him into the darkness to rescue my quickly disappearing luggage.

  We march along a garden path through dense jungle foliage. I glimpse flowering trees and shrubs in full bloom as the wet grasses covering the gro
unds pull at my legs. The scent of exotic flowers hangs in the air as we cut through a grove of twisted Banyan trees and over a narrow bridge.

  The bellboy stops and holds a flashlight low at the end of the walk, so I can see the steps made out of flat slabs descending on a steeply sloping path. I step gingerly on the wet granite, not knowing if they’re slippery or not. When we reach the bottom, the bellboy plays his flashlight over three small cottages nestled on the edge of the shore. Over the pounding rhythm of the heavy rain, I can hear the ocean lashing up against the sand. Petey wasn’t kidding when she said I’d be staying right on the beach.

  I follow the bellboy to the little cottage in the middle. He opens the door with my cardkey and deposits my luggage in the sitting area. He’s gone before I have a chance to ask him about a bite to eat. All I’ve eaten in the past twelve hours is a protein bar in the Uber on the way to the airport. One glance at the prices on the room service menu sends me scrambling back to the main hotel in search of something other than a thirty-dollar hamburger.

  I fill a bag with snacks in the lobby store and am about to brave the rainy trek back to the beach when I spot a poster of a woman swimming with a family of giant sea turtles on the other side of the lobby. Her hair floats above her in a perfect mess of curls. She’s smiling, serene and deliriously happy. The sea turtles are smiling, too. Of course, they are. They’re all living in the magical world under the sea. They don’t have cell phones and they’ve never heard of social media. Nothing and no one can bother them.

  I want that.

  I slip into the chair in front of the concierge desk, and address the uniformed staff person.

  “How much is it?” I ask nodding toward the poster.

  “The ‘Swimming With Honu Adventure’? One hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

  My breath slips out of my mouth in a hiss. That’s a lot of money, especially for a woman who’ll be living off her savings for the foreseeable future. And yet, I want it more than anything. I want the ‘Honu Adventure.’

  “I’ll take it.” I announce with certainty.

  “Our daytime excursion is sold out,” she explains. “Would you be interested in the boat that leaves at five in the morning? The bonus is you’ll get to see the sunrise over Haleakala.”

  “Perfect.” I dig deep in my purse for my wallet. I pull out a seldom-used credit card, and slap it down on the desk between us. “Sign me up.”

  Eighteen years ago. The summer before I’d gone off to college. I went to a camp on Lake Michigan. We went on canoe rides, kayak adventures, and spend hours diving into the water off a raft floating in the cool blue water. It’s the last time I can remember feeling this bold and brave. It’s the last time the world seemed exciting and full of possibilities. I want that feeling back again. I’m desperate for it. I’ve come this far. I’m going on an adventure. A real adventure.

  Even if it’s the last thing I ever do.

  CHAPTER 3

  Breaking the surface of the water, I gasp for air. Filling my bursting lungs, while attempting to tread water. By the time I’m aware of my surroundings, I’m a good distance away from the stern of the fast-disappearing boat I was on only a minute ago. I look over my shoulder to the island shore. Swimming back to land from here isn’t an option either.

  Within seconds, I’m winded from the physical exertion of paddling around in the ocean like a dog. That’s what I get for not going to the gym for two years. I bob on the surface of the water for...at least a week, maybe more...before the Captain turns the boat around and maneuvers as close to where I am as he can.

  A lifesaving ring lands in the waves not far from where I’m treading water. I swim to it and pull my body up on it.

  “Are you okay?” Josh cups his hands around his mouth and shouts as the boat approaches.

  Choking on salt water, I nod.

  The hand reaching over the side of the catamaran to pull me out of the water doesn’t belong to Josh, Captain Dan or Mallorie. Nor does it belong to the crewmember whose name I can’t remember, but helped Captain Dan with the safety demonstration when we boarded, in order to prevent just this kind of incident.

  I’ve done enough Internet stalking to recognize the hand reaching for me. It’s Kai Cooper. My mortal enemy is reaching out to save my life.

  Reaching for him with one hand, I slip below the waves. Kai pulls me up on the deck as if I’m a bag of feathers. I’m totally transfixed by the sight of his bulging biceps.

  Wow.

  Reality doesn’t sink in until he sets me down on the deck.

  I almost drowned.

  I wobble a little, brushing up against the bare skin on Kai’s chest. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. I don’t resist.

  Captain Dan throws a towel around my shoulders. Mallorie fusses over me, brushing the hair from my eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” she asks.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Take care of her.” Captain Dan nods to Josh and ‘Tall Brett.’ “Get her something warm to drink. Coffee or hot chocolate. I need to get a hustle on to make it out to our dive location on time.” He dismisses me in a way that lets me know I’ve spoiled his perfect day. No doubt there will have to be paperwork filled out over this incident. He eyes me with an arched eyebrow. “We’re more than just a little behind schedule.”

  Wrapped in a towel, with water dripping down my legs, I close my eyes and make my semi-regular wish for a super power.

  Please make me invisible.

  When I open my eyes, Kai is standing in front of me with look of honest concern on his face. Obviously, my wish didn’t come true.

  “Hi, I’m Kai.” He extends his hand to me as a manner of introduction.

  “Vivienne.” I put my hand in his, but remove it quickly.

  “I didn’t mean to make you fall overboard, Viv.”

  I set my jaw before I respond. “You didn’t. I... didn’t know I was so close to edge. I took a wrong step. I haven’t been on a catamaran since...” Do I really want to admit I’ve never been on a boat this size before? “...a very long time.”

  “You’re supposed to wait until the lifeguards are in the water before you jump in,” Josh explains.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I know how to swim.”

  “The lifeguards aren’t in the water to save you from drowning. They’re there to keep a look out for sharks,” Kai adds with a mischievous grin.

  All the blood drains from my face.

  Sharks. Large, bitey creatures prowling the ocean looking for unsuspecting idiots to chomp up into bloody bits. “Oh, sure. You tell me that now.” I can’t keep a hint of snark out of my voice.

  Kai laughs. It’s the most wonderful sound I’ve ever heard. Warm and raw.

  “I guess I was too enthusiastic to get this party started,” I add.

  I can’t stop grinning back at Kai.

  His dark blue eyes are so warm and friendly. I could stay here forever staring into them. The other passengers have begun to disperse since there’s no bloody drowning victim to see. They’re taking pre-dawn selfies off the stern, and moving below deck to the galley where Ben announces there’s fresh fruit ready to eat.

  The only person who doesn’t leave is Kai. He’s grinning at me, knowing exactly why I fell into the water.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was bewitched.

  The wind ruffles the dark curls on his head and for the first time, I’m painfully aware I’m not staring at a photo on his Instagram feed. Kai Cooper is flesh and blood. A man with a white line of scar tissue that curves along the bones of his shoulder and down onto his upper right arm. Absently, he rubs his skin along the raised ridge as if it’s bothering him.

  Mallorie hands me a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate. She gently guides me toward the bow of the boat where the other passengers are being fitted for snorkeling masks and swim fins.

  I sit down on a small ledge and take a sip of the hot drink. It scalds my throat all the way down, but I’ve never tasted
anything more delicious. Maybe, it’s the salty air. Maybe, it’s the sun rising in a perfect painted blue sky. Maybe, it’s the constant undulations of the water. I can’t remember, and even better I couldn’t care less about any of the problems plaguing me yesterday.

  Captain Dan comes back to check on me. “You look all right.”

  “Hot chocolate is the cure,” I say, taking another sip.

  Captain Dan smiles. I’m sure he’s just relieved I’m not injured or acting litigious. “Boat rules. First one in the water gets a margarita. Josh, make sure the lady gets a cocktail when she gets back from snorkeling.”

  “When I get back?” I ask.

  “We don’t give you alcohol until you get back to the boat après snorkeling. For your own safety.”

  There’s no way I’m going back in the water. “Oh no. I’m done for the day,” I maintain.

  “What do you mean, you’re done’?” Kai asks. “You’ve come too far to chicken out.”

  “There’s no reason to go back in. If you need me, I’ll be toweling off while sipping a margarita.”

  “But you paid to see the turtles and dolphins,” Mallorie chides.

  .“There aren’t any refunds,” Captain Dan adds. “It’s right there in the fine print on your ticket.”

  “But I’ve never snorkeled before,” I argue.

  “You’re a strong swimmer,” Captain Dan says. “You won’t have a problem.

  Kai shrugs. “Anybody who can swim like you, can snorkel,” he adds a little too knowingly. “If, she wants to.”

  He tosses the last few words over his shoulder like a challenge. It gets under my skin.

  I mull over my options: I can stay on the boat, shivering in my wet clothes for the next two hours, while everyone else enjoys the wonders under the sea. Or I can do what I set out to do this morning and go on a snorkeling adventure.