They continued to talk. The more they did, the more Trista liked Bruce. After his initial fan crush, she realized that Bruce was a funny guy. And he wasn’t that bad to look at. His facial features were rather plain, but he had beautiful blue eyes and a nice body. He wasn’t egotistical like most men in LA and wanted to know more about her rather than talking about himself. He seemed like a true southern gentleman—he was originally from Georgia and had moved down here to take care of his ailing mother, who had recently died of MS. Trista told him about her own stepmother’s battle with cancer. She realized they had a lot in common. As the hours flew by, she became more entranced with Bruce. He leaned over and kissed her. His lips were nice and soft, and the kiss was sweet. It wasn’t passionate like she had with Riker. But she didn’t mind.
“I’m sorry. Was that too fast?” Bruce asked.
“No, actually it was really nice.” Trista looked around to check on Nicolette. But she wasn’t in the VIP section anymore. The club was getting crowded wall-to-wall with people, and she couldn’t find Nicolette or Quinn anywhere in the throng of people. It made her very nervous not knowing where they were. “Sorry, I think I need some fresh air. Would you excuse me for a sec?”
“Would you like some company?” Bruce offered.
“Um, sure.” Trista said. “Let me find my friends, and I’ll meet you by the front door.”
“Okay,” Bruce agreed. He leaned in and gave her another kiss. This time on the cheek. “See ya soon.”
Trista headed for the dance floor, but Quinn wasn’t among any of the dancers. She turned to check the bar when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A familiar handsome face stared back at her.
“Riker! What are you doing?” Trista yelled above the loud music.
“I’m here with some friends from work,” he answered. “What’s up with you and nerdy boy?”
Trista’s eyes widened. Had he been watching her this whole time? “He’s not a nerd. What are you doing? Stalking me?”
“No, I just happened to be walking by the VIP section when I saw you two snuggled on the couch. Did you just meet this guy?”
Trista put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you. It’s really none of your business.”
Riker put his hand on her elbow. “Let’s go somewhere quiet where we can talk about this.”
Trista tried to jerk her arm free, but he held a tight grip on her. “I don’t think so,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Five minutes, Trista.”
Trista stared at him for a moment, taking in his gorgeous eyes and the deep dimples that never failed to cause her to swoon. He was too damn irresistible. Dammit. Where was Quinn when she needed her? Trista felt her resolve melt away. “Okay. Five minutes. That’s it.” She forgot all about Bruce as she followed Riker through the crowded nightclub. They passed the bar area where she spotted Quinn sitting with the guy she had been dancing with. They were throwing back some shots, laughing. She looked around for Nicolette again but didn’t see her.
Riker continued to hold her hand as they passed the restrooms and the stairs, which led up to another level that housed the DJ booth. Another set of stairs was roped off and held a sign that said PRIVATE. Riker removed the rope and held it open for Trista. She thought about asking him where they were going, but she knew he would just ignore her. She passed through and waited until he put the red velvet rope back in place. They quickly made their way up the stairs. It was darker here, and Trista stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Riker grabbed her hand again and led her to a leather couch that was pushed against a wall. Once her eyes adjusted, Trista could see they were in another part of the club, similar to the VIP section. “What is this?”
“The owner reserves it for private parties. We’re in luck. No parties tonight.”
“I take it you’re friends with the owner?”
Riker nodded. “You could say that.”
Several other seating areas held a variety of chairs, tables, and couches. A few potted plants were scattered around. It was peaceful up here, away from the crowds and noise, although Trista could still feel the vibrations of the bass through the floor.
“Now, tell me what you’re doing here with that guy.” Riker put his arm around Trista as he leaned back on the couch.
“I’m not here with Bruce. My best friend Quinn is in town, and Nicolette and I decided to take her out tonight.”
Riker nodded. “You kissed him.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t like that.”
Trista laughed. “We aren’t dating, Riker.”
“Doesn’t matter. I still don’t like you being with other men.”
“Well, get over yourself. I can kiss whomever I damn well please!” Trista started to stand, but Riker grabbed her and pulled her on top of his lap. As she turned toward him, Riker planted his lips firmly on hers. His tongue met up with hers, as they playfully teased each other.
He tasted delicious, and she started to feel the familiar ache bubbling up. If she didn’t get up and leave now, she wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. She felt his hand snake up her dress and rub against her white lacy thong. “You’re already wet,” Riker whispered in her ear. “I knew that you missed me.”
“Why do you do this to me?” Trista asked.
“You like it,” Riker answered, inserting a finger in her panties, finding her clit. He gently applied pressure, causing Trista to suck in a deep breath. She could feel his mounting erection through his designer jeans. Within seconds, she had completely forgotten all about Bruce.
***
Trista walked out of the bathroom stall and washed her hands in the sink. She looked up when she heard someone call her name.
“Trista! Who was that hottie I just saw you with?” Quinn asked, walking into the bathroom. “And what happened with the other guy? He’s been looking for you!”
Trista looked around for Nicolette to see if she had followed Quinn to the bathroom. She pulled her favorite lip gloss out of her purse and swiped it on her swollen lips before responding, “He’s just a friend.”
“Bullshit!” Quinn said, standing right next to Trista. Leave it to her best friend to see right through her lies.
“Where’s Nicolette?” Trista asked.
“She’s at the bar waiting for us,” Quinn said. A slow smile crept across her face. She leaned in and whispered, “That was Riker?”
Trista smacked her lips. “Yeah.”
“He’s so fucking hot. No wonder you’re worried. I would beat your ass if I were your sister.”
“Yeah, I know” Trista repeated, running a hand through her hair, trying to undo the tangles that Riker had put there by wrapping his fingers around the strands while she fucked him. “Now you see why I’m worried.”
“You just had sex with him, didn’t you?” Quinn grabbed Trista by the hand, turning so they were face to face. “Oh my God, you did!”
A slow smile crept across her face. Trista said, “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“You sneaky little bitch. I want details.”
“Later.” Trista put her lip gloss in her purse, snapping it shut. “Let’s go before Nicolette gets all pissy on us.”
“That guy is still looking for you.”
“Crap. I forgot about him.”
“I bet.” Quinn reapplied her own lipstick. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him and tell him you don’t feel well. You go get Nicolette. I’ll meet you outside.”
Trista nodded. She headed to the bar while Quinn went the opposite direction to the VIP section. It had been one hell of a night. She was ready to get on the plane in the morning and head to the Bahamas. She needed this weekend away to figure out what she wanted to do about Riker.
Chapter Fifteen
After Quinn’s comment about not getting the royal treatment when Trista picked her up from the airport, Trista surprised Quinn and her sister with a chauffeured ride to the airport. The limo driver picked up the girls
at the beach house at four thirty the next morning. With only about two hours of sleep, Trista felt like a jackhammer was drilling into her brain. As the driver loaded their bags into the trunk, Trista, Nicolette, and Quinn settled into the back of the black stretch limo.
“This is a real treat,” Quinn said, popping open a bottle of Dom. She took a healthy sip of orange juice then chased it with a gulp of champagne. Trista watched as Quinn repeated the process twice. “The hair of the dog and all that,” Quinn said, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.
“We have champagne glasses, you know,” Nicolette said, pointing to the glasses that were secured in cup holders.
“Someone is grumpy this morning,” Quinn retorted, as she opened her purse and popped out two white pills. She washed them down straight from the champagne bottle, sans orange juice this time. Quinn had dressed for the flight with black leather pants, a sheer Stella McCartney pink blouse, and a pair of jet black Jimmy Choo booties.
“I only slept for an hour. My head feels like it’s going to explode,” Nicolette said. She had dressed similar to Trista—casually—with a lavender Juicy tracksuit and flip-flops. Her toenails were freshly painted with OPI’s I Just Can’t Cope-abana color, which reminded Trista of a lemon slushy.
Quinn offered Nicolette the bottle of pills. “Vicodin. Cures all hangovers.”
“I don’t think you should be drinking with those,” Nicolette said, eyeing the pills warily.
Quinn shook one out from the bottle and handed it to Nicolette. “I’m a pro, darling.” She handed her a bottle of soda from the cooler. “Here. Down the hatch. You’ll be feeling no pain, I promise.”
Trista watched as her sister put the pill in her mouth and swallowed. Nicolette winced as she washed it down with Coke. “I hope this cures my pounding skull.”
“It was your idea to go out last night. I wanted to stay home and cook dinner, if you remember,” Trista reminded her.
“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” Nicolette said before shutting her eyes. “Besides, you ended up having fun, right? So shut up.”
Trista exchanged quizzical looks with Quinn. She was used to her sister’s bad moods when they lived together many years ago. However, she hadn’t witnessed one like this since Trista had moved back home. Trista hoped Nicolette’s mood would get better once they landed in the Bahamas. She had planned on spending some quality time with her sister and working things out between them.
Within thirty minutes, the driver was pulling into the airport. Nicolette opened her eyes and peered out the window. It was still dark outside, with only the lights of the runway and parking lot illuminating the area.
“We’re at the Destin airport?” Nicolette said, looking at Trista for confirmation. Destin had a small airport that catered to private planes. She had used the airport once before when she flew home for the holidays. A few local celebrities who lived in the area, like Emeril Lagasse, kept their private planes housed here as well.
“Surprise!” Trista said with a little more enthusiasm than she should have, given Nicolette’s sour mood.
“I thought we were flying commercial?” Nicolette said, confused.
Trista shook her head. “I splurged and booked us a private jet.”
“Now we’re talking,” Quinn said, smiling brightly. She held up the champagne bottle that was half full.
Nicolette shrugged. “It’s your dime.”
As the driver pulled up to the front of the airport terminal, Trista grabbed her purse off the seat next to her. She turned to face Nicolette. “That’s right. It is my dime. And if you are going to be in a pissy mood all weekend, maybe you should just stay here.”
Quinn shot her a warning look. She reached inside her purse and pulled out another prescription bottle. This time she shook out three small blue pills and handed one to Nicolette. “No one is staying home,” Quinn said. “Take one of these. You’ll feel like a new woman by the time we land in Nassau.”
Without hesitation, Nicolette popped the pill in her mouth and chased it down the champagne bottle that Quinn handed her.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” Trista asked with growing alarm. “I don’t want to kill my sister… not just yet.”
“Ha ha.” Nicolette said smugly. The driver opened the door, and she stepped out first.
“Relax, it’s just something to calm her down.” Quinn grabbed her bag, following Nicolette. “Do you need one too?”
“What the hell? Do you have the whole fucking pharmacy in your purse?” Trista asked, getting out of the limo. She had seen Quinn pop painkillers before. She was known to have legendary migraines, but never had she seen her drink alcohol with them or take them with anything else.
“Just about anything you need.” Quinn smiled. Then she saw that Trista looked really concerned. “It’s okay, relax. I have a prescription for everything. I always take a little something before I fly. You know that.”
Trista thought back to the flights she had taken with Quinn before. She was right. She did remember Quinn taking a Valium or Xanax before a flight to Hawaii. And another time when they flew to Europe. It was the norm for some people to have a little something to settle nerves before a flight, so she decided not to make a big deal of it. Trista led them to the airport’s check-in lounge, and they waited for the flight crew. A few minutes later, they boarded the plane, and an attractive, female flight attendant greeted them. She got them comfortable and offered drinks and breakfast. Nicolette declined and immediately went to sleep. Quinn and Trista accepted a full breakfast of eggs, waffles, bacon, hash browns, toast, and coffee. While Nicolette slept in the back of the plane, Quinn and Trista sat up front at the table, eating their breakfast after takeoff.
“What exactly did you give her?” Trista asked Quinn. She was dying to talk to her friend about what happened last night with Riker. Until now, she hadn’t had a chance for fear that Nicolette would overhear.
“A Valium. Between that and the painkiller, she’ll be out for a while. By the time we get to the Bahamas, Nicolette will be in a much better mood.”
“Do you think she knows?” Trista asked in between bites of toast.
“About Riker?” Quinn whispered. “I don’t think so. Surely she would’ve said something to you by now?”
Thinking about her sister’s bad temper, Trista knew that Nicolette wouldn’t hold back if she suspected anything between her and Riker.
“Yeah, if she knew what happened last night she would’ve torn into me by now.”
“So tell me. Where did you two go?”
Trista told her about the private area that Riker led her to. She also told her about the hot sex on the couch while watching all the people below on the dance floor.
“Ah…a little bit of exhibitionist, huh? Will we get caught or won’t we?” Quinn smirked. “He’s a hottie. Obviously he’s good in the sack?”
“Better than good. Hypnotic. Fantastic. Mind-blowing sex.”
“Better than Blake?”
Trista scoffed. “No comparison.”
“So what’s the problem, sweetie?”
“Riker’s like a drug. I’m addicted to him. I know being with him is wrong, but he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Ever since I met him, no one else is even worth thinking about,” Trista whispered. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But everything leads back to him. I really think I’m falling hard for him.”
Quinn looked at Nicolette, who was comatose in her seat, and then back at Trista. “Then explain to me why you can’t be with Riker if you feel this way?”
Nicolette let out a long snore causing Trista to giggle. “Are you sure she’ll be okay? She’s drooling.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Quinn laughed. “Let her sleep.”
Trista continued to watch her sister. “She told me she was love with him. It would kill her to know what happened. That’s why I can’t be with him.”
“She’ll get over it.” Quinn took her friend’s hand in her own. “You deserve to be happy, Trist
a. If he makes you happy, then so be it. It’s really that simple.”
Trista picked up her fork and toyed with her eggs, pushing them around her plate. “It sounds so simple when you say it, but every time I start to tell her about Riker, I can’t get the words out.”
“Look, just rip off that Band-Aid. Tell her the truth about what happened. You didn’t know who Riker was when you first slept with him.” Quinn took a huge bite of hash browns, chewing them slowly before she spoke again. “But for the love of bacon, don’t tell her until after the trip. I don’t want to play referee the whole time.”
Trista took another glimpse at her sister sleeping peacefully and nodded. She would do anything for her, despite all the bitterness that lay between them. “I’ll find the right time to do it when we get back.”
“Atta girl! Now, let’s talk about all fun we’ll be having in a couple of hours.”
Chapter Sixteen
“After three days of lying in the sun, shopping, and eating in fabulous restaurants I’m going to be absolutely worthless when we get home tonight,” Trista said while they waited on their drinks at Senor Frogs. The famous restaurant and bar was crowded as usual with tourists and cruise-ship vacationers. They managed to get a table that overlooked the beautiful Caribbean, instead of a view of the cruise ship docks. Trista watched a few rowdy customers having fun doing a conga line, and the waitresses pouring shots for everyone who passed by them.
“This little vacation has been just what I needed,” Quinn agreed. “I haven’t had this much fun since we went to Mexico.”
“I think I gained five pounds since we’ve been here.” Nicolette reached for her drink the second the bartender set it down. It was her third strawberry daiquiri in the last hour.
“Vacation pounds don’t count,” Quinn responded, drinking her own Red Stripe beer. Quinn was not a fruity-drink kind of girl. She preferred beer, wine, or champagne. The more expensive the bottle, the better she liked it.
“Humph.” Nicolette slurped her drink. “Tell that to my jeans.”
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