Sunkissed

by Traci Hohenstein

  Chapter Five

  Trista waltzed into the Beach Peach Boutique—one of her favorite places to shop in Blue Mountain Beach. They carried all her preferred clothing brands. She loved the smell of coconut, lime, and verbena candles that the store kept lit throughout the day. A woman with an armful of clothes approached her. “Hey, I know you. From that show, You Only Live Once? Right? Trista Carmichael?”

  Trista was used to people recognizing her on the streets of LA. Most of them never approached her though. Sometimes they took discreet photos from a distance. However, whenever she visited small towns, people were friendly and approached her with requests of autographs or photos with their cell phones.

  Trista pulled a coral maxi-dress with spaghetti straps from the rack. “Yep, that’s me.”

  “I can’t believe the network fired you,” the woman said, thrusting her bundle of clothes at the salesgirl who approached them. “Are you going to work on another show?”

  As soon as the news broke about her dismissal from the show, and about the embarrassing breakup with Blake, her face was plastered on all the Hollywood rags, like OK! Magazine, People, and STAR. Trista flashed a smile at the woman. “No, I’m taking a well-needed vacation right now.”

  “Can I have a picture with you?” The woman pulled out her cell phone. “My friends aren’t going to believe I ran into you! We’re here on vacation too. I never thought I would see my favorite TV star!” The woman continued to gush while Trista stood next to her and the salesgirl took a quick picture. “Thank you so much!”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  “Listen, hon, I wouldn’t worry about what the press is saying about you. And that fiancé you had? He’s a bad boy. I can tell just by looking at his picture in the magazine.” The woman reached in her bag and pulled out the latest copy of In Touch magazine, showing it to her. Trista was surprised to see herself and Blake on the cover. She tried to stay away from reading half-truths in these so-called Hollywood rags. The title screamed, “TRISTA CARMICHAEL & BLAKE SIMMONS CALL OFF WEDDING?” There was an insert of a smaller picture of Blake with another gorgeous, blonde woman on his arm. Trista recognized her as Melanie Sweetwater. She was another actress rumored to have slept around with more producers and directors than any other wannabe actress in the history of Hollywood. “You are much prettier than she is.”

  Trista wasn’t sure how to respond to that comment. Instead she just put a smile on her face and thanked the lady for her support, handing the dress to the salesgirl after the fan-girl moment. “Can I try this on?”

  “Of course. I’ll start a dressing room for you.” The salesgirl pulled a white crocheted cardigan from a mannequin. “This looks great with the maxi. You know, for the cooler weather we’re having now.”

  “Thank you.” Trista liked the way the cardigan was made with lightweight material, perfect for the beach. “I’ll try it too.” She wanted to look nice for the party tonight. If she was going to work things out with Nicolette, then she needed to get to know her sister’s friends and boyfriend. Trista was going to make that her top priority while she was here in Florida. And finding a new job. She slipped into the dressing room and tried on the clothes.

  “I’m sorry about that,” the salesgirl said discreetly when Trista walked out of the dressing room. “Most people in this town mind their own business.”

  “It’s okay,” Trista answered. She twirled around, viewing herself in the full-length mirror. The coral dress fit her perfectly.

  “I heard you had a beach house here in Blue Mountain. Of course, no one has ever seen you around, so I thought it was just a rumor,” the salesgirl continued.

  “I’m just visiting for a bit,” Trista said. She wandered around the store and picked out two more dresses. One was an off-shoulder sundress in mint, and another maxi dress, this one peach, with a white crochet insert at the hem and neckline. Spring was right around the corner, and she needed a few new things to spice up her wardrobe. Most of her things she left behind in California in an air-conditioned storage unit. Starting over seemed like a good idea when she left.

  “Do you have a big event to attend?”

  “Just a private birthday party tonight.” Trista added a few pieces of jewelry and a pair of bone-colored sandals to the mix. “I’ll just try these on, too. Thanks.”

  Trista slipped back into the dressing room and tried on the rest of the clothes. After her breakup with Blake, Trista had lost a few pounds. A few years ago, she would’ve been happy with the sudden weight loss. When she first moved to Hollywood her agent at the time—a gentleman named Walter Murphy, who had since retired—advised her to lose about twenty pounds if she wanted to work in the film business. Trista struggled for months to lose the weight, spending money she didn’t have on personal trainers and protein-shake mixes. Now a five-pound weight loss made her look too thin. She vowed to eat right while she was here. Florida was known for its fresh seafood, and she planned to indulge herself in shrimp, scallops, fish, and lobster, along with decadent key lime pies. Trista walked out of the dressing room in the mint sundress, admiring the way the dress hugged her frame. The spray tan she’d gotten before she came to Florida really accentuated the color.

  “That looks really good on you!” the salesgirl told her. “It brings out your complexion nicely.”

  Trista studied herself in the mirror again. The mint dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her trademark honey-blonde hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She had inherited her mother’s unusual violet-blue eyes, pert nose, and full lips. Her father, who was Italian, thankfully passed on his nice skin color to her. She thought she got the best of both worlds from her parents. She turned full circle and admired the way the dress looked on her. “I’ll take everything,” she told the salesgirl. She headed back to the dressing room and changed.

  She was a little nervous about the party tonight. She wondered if Nicolette had told her friends about her famous sister. “Is the Watercolor Spa still open?” Trista inquired as she put all the clothing and shoes on the sales counter. What she really needed was a full day of pampering. Massage, facial, mani-pedi…and thinking about her wild night with Riker, a bikini wax. Who knows? After the party, Trista thought, she just might head over to the Liar’s Club and see if Riker was working. Another night of hot, passionate sex could just be the cure she needed for a broken heart.

  “Yes, it is. My friend Ella works there. I can call her and set something up for you. She’ll take good care of you,” she offered as she rang up the purchases.

  Trista looked at her watch. It was almost noon. “That would be great. I need to run if I’m going to make the party in time.” She thanked the salesgirl, grabbed her bags, and headed out to the spa. Tonight she wasn’t going to worry about Blake or her career. She would focus on having fun with her sister and making new friends.

  Chapter Six

  Trista could hear the guests arriving as she dressed. She was surprised to find that she had butterflies in her stomach. Attending this party would be a start in the right direction with her sister. Plus she was curious about meeting Nicolette’s new boyfriend. She had never known Nicolette to be in a serious relationship with anyone. Normally she went from one man to the next, getting out before the relationship turned serious. Trista thought her sister secretly sabotaged her own relationships so she wouldn’t get hurt. She imagined it had something to do with her own parent’s fucked-up relationship.

  Trista’s bedroom had a panoramic view of the Gulf of Mexico with floor-to-ceiling windows. A custom-made, king-size, round bed took up the middle of the room. Trista’s decorator spared no expense when it came to decorating her house, especially the master suite. Everything was made just for this room, including bedding worth four thousand dollars: silk comforters and throw pillows, five-thousand-thread-count sheets of Egyptian cotton, all done in soft hues of lavender, grey, and yellow. Handmade furniture and local artwork by Carl Coleman adorned the walls. She wondered why Nicolette had nev
er moved into the master bedroom after her long absence. Trista had been gone for two years, with only the occasional visit. Yet her sister stayed in one of the guest rooms on the second floor.

  She glanced in the mirror and applied her favorite Urban Decay lip gloss. She had the hairdresser at the spa do a blowout on her honey-blonde hair, making it shiny and smooth. The facial and body scrub she received made her complexion glow from head to toe. Her toenails had been applied with OPI Cajun Shrimp, to complement the coral maxi was she wearing, and her fingernails had a couple coats of Essie Tennis Corset, a white polish with a touch of glitter. She felt more like herself than she had since her split with Blake. Trista didn’t know if it was the day at the spa and new clothes or the great sex. Either way, she planned on more of all of it in the coming weeks—her self-prescribed medicine.

  Trista took a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” she said before heading out. Once downstairs she found around fifty people gathered in the open living room. Nicolette had hired a party planner to help with the event. The whole place was decorated festively with silver and white balloons, glittering candles, and fresh white roses. Everyone stopped in mid-conversation and stared at Trista as she entered the room. Nicolette looked up from her conversation with a group of girls, her eyes on Trista as she walked toward her. Nicolette cleared her throat. “Um, everyone. We have a special guest tonight. This is Trista Carmichael. My sister.”

  Trista blushed uncomfortably. She registered the shocked look on the guests’ faces and heard the murmuring of the crowd. So Nicolette hadn’t told her friends about her. That was typical. Her sister didn’t want Trista to steal her spotlight.

  “I didn’t know Trista Carmichael was Nicolette’s sister?”

  “What? How is that possible? I thought she was an only child!”

  “Didn’t she get fired from that show?”

  “Hello, everyone! I look forward to meeting all of you personally. First, I need a drink!” Trista gave an awkward laugh before heading into the kitchen. The caterers were setting up a large buffet with fresh Florida seafood, corn on the cob, cheese grits, and a variety of desserts. Trista grabbed a champagne flute from a silver tray sitting on the kitchen counter. She took a hearty gulp, trying to steady her nerves.

  “You handled that well,” Nicolette said from behind her.

  “You never told anyone that we were sisters? Are you that ashamed of me?”

  “No, it just never came up.”

  “Will we ever be able to put our differences behind us?” Trista asked.

  “This is not the time to discuss our differences. James will be here any minute now, and this is supposed to be his surprise party. The key word being surprise.”

  “Okay Nicolette. But we can’t kept putting this off forever.”

  “He’s coming!” One of the girls shouted from the living room. “Everyone hide!”

  “Tomorrow then,” Nicolette said, grabbing her sister’s hand. “Tonight we have fun! Come on.”

  Nicolette hit the lights, darkening the living room. Only a few candles glittered throughout the area. “He thinks we’re having a romantic dinner. Just the two of us. I had everyone park their cars down the road at the neighbor’s house. Wait until he sees all of his friends here. He’ll be knocked out of his socks,” she whispered to Trista, still holding on to her hand. For a moment, it felt like they were still little girls playing dolls in their bedroom.

  Everyone got quiet as the front door opened. Trista could make out a tall figure standing in the doorway. “Nicolette?” he called out. “Where are you?”

  Trista held her breath. Suddenly the lights came on, more balloons and confetti dropped from the high ceiling, and everyone shouted, “SURPRISE!”

  Standing in the doorway was Nicolette’s boyfriend. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, wearing distressed jeans and a white, button-down shirt. Canvas deck shoes on his feet. He genuinely looked surprised as his eyes met Nicolette’s. Then he saw Trista.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Trista mumbled under her breath as her eyes locked with Riker, Nicolette’s boyfriend. James and Riker were one and the same. She dropped Nicolette’s hand like a hot potato. “He’s knocked out of his socks, all right,” Trista whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  “Trista, I want you to meet my boyfriend, James Riker.” Nicolette held his hand tightly. “James, this is my sister, Trista Carmichael.”

  He shook her hand with a bewildered smile on face. “Nice to meet you, Trista.” Riker turned his attention to Nicolette. “You never told me you had a sister.”

  “Well, Trista has been in Hollywood the last couple of years. She’s here for a quick visit.”

  Trista noticed her sister put an emphasis on the word quick. After Nicolette finds out that I slept with her boyfriend, I won’t be able to get out of here fast enough.

  “Hollywood, huh? What do you do there?” Riker asked, an amused look on his handsome face.

  Trista could see that he was struggling to maintain the conversation. All she wanted to do was go back upstairs and hide under the covers. She had slept with her sister’s boyfriend. How in the hell were they going to fix their relationship now? Nicolette would never forgive her. And why was Riker cheating on Nicolette? That was one thing she wouldn’t tolerate—once a cheater, always a cheater. That was why she and Blake would never work out. Trista had been through enough cheating scandals in her life. She thought about her father and how his cheating had caused the original rift between her and Nicolette.

  “She was on that show, You Only Live Once,” Nicolette said.

  “So, you’re an actress?” he asked her, genuinely surprise.

  Trista nodded as Riker studied her with renewed interest.

  “I forgot. The only TV that James watches is the sports channel. I don’t think he has ever seen anything else on TV other than a football game.

  “The Simpsons,” Riker said.

  “Huh?” Nicolette asked.

  “I watch The Simpsons on Sunday nights.”

  “Right. Anyway, let’s go get you a beer.” Nicolette led Riker away while Trista stood in shock. She didn’t know what was worse. Her sister dating a cheater or her sister finding out that Trista was the one who’d slept with her boyfriend.

  For the rest of the party Trista managed to avoid Riker. She would leave a room when she saw him enter and find somewhere else to hang out. After a couple of hours, though, she got tired of the cat-and-mouse game. Trista went upstairs and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Quietly, she slipped out the back door and headed for the soft, sandy beach. If not for the surprise party, this would have been a perfect night. The moon was full, the waves were softly crashing onto the beach, and the air was cool but not too cold. Trista relished the feeling of the powdery sand between her toes as she made her way down to the water.

  Dipping her foot into the chilly salt water, she thought about how all this was going to play out. She already had a hard road ahead of her if she was going to repair her relationship with Nicolette. Now she was going to have to come clean about sleeping with Riker. Nicolette deserved to know that Riker was sleeping around on her. Trista hadn’t known Riker had a girlfriend, let alone, that girlfriend being her sister. Nicolette would have to forgive her. Trista couldn’t have known that Riker was her boyfriend. Hell, he had introduced himself as Riker. Everyone at the party called him Riker, she noticed. But her sister was the only one who called him by his first name, James. Nicolette would understand the situation. It was a mistake. A mistake that Trista would not let happen again.

  Trista continued to walk farther down the beach, away from the house with all the noise and drunken partygoers. She sat down at the base of a sand dune and contemplated just going back to Hollywood. Or maybe she should go to New York. Her career had started on Broadway with a bit part. Plus she’d done a short stint on a daytime soap opera. There were plenty of possibilities. She would call her new agent, Kate Peterson, tomorrow morning and let
her know to put out some feelers on any new gigs opening up. Trista had started her career with Kate, so it was only fitting that Kate find her a new job. Start over fresh somewhere. Trista started to get excited about the prospect of moving to New York. She would buy a condo in trendy Tribeca. Eat leisurely brunches at Popovers on Amsterdam and 86th Street. Take long walks in Central Park. See a Yankees game. All her favorite things to do in the Big Apple.

  “Hey, Trista. I’ve been looking all over for you.” A male voice interrupted her thoughts. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  Trista looked up to see Riker standing at the foot of the dune. “You’re the last person I want to talk to.” Trista waved him away. “Leave me alone please.”

  “I just want a chance to explain.”

  Trista scoffed. “Save it for Nicolette. You owe her an explanation, not me.”

  “It’s over between me and Nicolette.” Riker walked closer to Trista. So close that she could smell his delicious scent. He irritated her and intrigued her all at once.

  “Of course it is…now. Or it will be once she knows about you.” Trista brushed the sand off her pants as she stood up. “How long have you been running around on her?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s been over between Nicolette and me. We aren’t together anymore.”

  “She introduced you as her boyfriend.” Trista pushed Riker as hard as she could. Caught off guard, he stumbled and fell back on his rear end. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re trying to pull, but you aren’t going to hurt my sister.”

  “I don’t want to hurt Nicolette.” Riker reached up and pulled on Trista’s ankle, which caused her to fall on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding on to her tightly. “Obviously you guys had a little falling out. She didn’t even tell me about you.”

  “That has nothing to do with you. Don’t change the subject. You’ve been sleeping around on her. Exactly how many women have you been fucking?” Trista tried to wiggle out of his strong grasp.