by Ember Leigh
This had to be an alternate reality, some sort of parallel dimension of art-deco explosion, eighteen-hundred’s American South and ancient Greece. Her gray sweat suit was one of the worst decisions she’d made.
Gary rounded the corner. Her breath caught in her throat as she was overcome with the desire to hug his pudgy-bellied body as hard as she could. A friendly face so far away from home—even in a place as beautiful as this—was the most welcome sight she could have imagined.
Maybe this was all a dream—some sort of byproduct of a sleeping pill somebody had slipped her in an attempt to alleviate her sadness. She was probably passed out on her bed in New York right now, face buried in the indistinguishable thread count of her sheets.
“Paige. So glad you could make it.”
She dropped her suitcase and approached him, arms open. “Oh, Gary. I missed you, you know. Just two days apart is enough to hallucinate your doppelganger.”
They embraced, and he offered a stiffer hug than usual—a sure sign he was nervous, as if he’d already begun protecting himself from her pending bad reaction. Their five years together made for an extrasensory awareness of the other’s emotions, which was both a blessing and a curse. And usually more curse than blessing.
“No, that was my actual Hawaiian twin. Trust me, meeting him was a little weird.
“You’re in Hawaii, can you believe it?” He motioned toward the front desk. “Go get your room key. We should get you settled in before we start talking about the new gig.”
She eyed him as she shuffled toward the front desk, unable to place exactly what was off about him today. It seemed he was avoiding eye contact a bit more than usual, though Gary was known for being a bit darty-eyed. Or was it the already-dried sweat ring on his collar? Something had been worrying him earlier.
“Paige, I presume?” The clerk smiled at her.
“Yes, I am.”
“Room Three, in the Lambert Wing.”
She took her key, confusion spreading through her body. “What did you say?”
“You have room three in the Lambert Wing.”
She spun on her heels.
Gary watched her, wringing his hands.
“Did she say I’m staying in the Lambert wing? As in, Josh Lambert?”
“Well, yes—she did say that. But, listen, you have that look in your eye, the one I told you makes me nervous. The one that sends me to the urologist.”
Her head spun—the combination of luxury, ocean air, hibiscus-tainted everything and mystery was making her crazy, and now, she was angry. What would Josh Lambert be doing on this island, for her show? “You’d better offer me a damn good explanation or I am catching the first plane out of here.”
“I will. Though, even if you tried to catch a plane, you wouldn’t have much luck. Did you know we’re almost three-thousand miles away from California? Stunning. I chartered you a private flight from the main island.”
Paige knitted her brow. “Three-thousand miles? Seriously? That’s like…”
“Almost to Japan, I know. Actually, Japan is about four-thousand miles away. Well, 3,850 if you want to get technical. I found a fascinating brochure in my plane seat on the way here—did you know Hawaii has no native reptile or amphibian species? Can you believe it?”
Paige pinched her eyes shut, suddenly frustrated. “Fascinating, really. But remind me again, where are we?”
“This is the most secretive, exotic, publicized spot in all of Hawaii.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Nobody knows about this place—except those who are in show business. Countless movies and TV shows have been filmed here. It’s not open to tourism. It’s specifically for show biz.”
“How enchanting.”
He rifled in his coat pockets for a moment and then produced a folded piece of paper. “Here it is. From east to west, Hawaii is the widest state in the United States.” His eyes widened. “Can you believe that?”
She groaned. “Gary, the trivia hour is great, but—”
“These islands we’re on? They’re just the projecting tops of the biggest mountain range in the world.”
“Seriously?
He consulted his sheet again. “Yeah, as in, formed by volcanoes too.”
“Is that safe?”
“Overall, probably safer than New York.”
She glowered at him.
“This will be a nice break from downtown New York City. You can’t tell me you haven’t wanted a break from that place. It even gets to me sometimes.” He paused, peering through a window. “And I hate the sun.”
She sighed, looking at her room key. “Okay, where the hell is room three in the Lambert wing?” She made a disgusted noise. “Is that actually its name?”
“Yes, because the reservation is under his name. I dunno, must be a little touch the hotel does, to make these bigwigs feel even bigger and wiggier.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s here though…right?”
Gary turned on his heel and walked down the massive hallway leading toward the elevators. After a few paces, he called over his shoulder, “Get your bags.”
Paige ran after him, leaving her bags right where they were. “Is he here? Is Joshua freakin’ Lambert here?”
Gary didn’t stop walking. “He is.”
She stopped in her tracks and groaned. “Great. Just great. This isn’t paradise out here. This is a nightmare.”
“Like I said, we’ll discuss the new show once you get settled in. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”
Her stomach flipped. Whatever idea was the right one, she wasn’t sure she was going to like it.
“Furthermore, Josh is an all right guy.”
“He’s an ass.” Her mind flashed to the last memory of his ass on set. She should have chosen a different word. Any word but ass…and she should probably abstain from ever calling him a dick too because she’d realized during the plane ride that she was intensely curious about that body part as well. Might even pay money to see it.
The elevator door slid open and Josh Lambert stared at her from down the hallway. She gulped, blood freezing in her veins. He must have heard her thinking about his butt and penis. There was no other way someone could show up like that.
“Hello, Paige. Glad to see you made it okay.”
Beside him was a blonde who was pretty in a show business way, a veneer Paige recognized immediately without needing to exchange words. Her hair hung in fabulous curls around her shoulders, showcasing a bra size that was probably equal to the best grade she’d ever gotten in school. They exited the elevator and approached the foyer, stoic and refined, as if they were practicing their red-carpet walk for the Emmy’s. Paige braced herself as they neared, arms crossed tight over her chest.
“This is Bridgette.” Josh stared coolly at Paige. His voice wrapped itself around her and settled heavy in her head, like a clammy palm around her wrist. “Bridgette, Paige. I hope you two will get along.”
“Of course,” Bridgette cooed. She leaned into Josh’s arm, amping up the wattage of her ruby-red smile. “How could we not?”
Paige looked her up and down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bridgette. I’m just as sorry for you as I am for myself, what with being stuck on this island with this guy.” She jerked her head toward Josh. Bridgette’s lips pursed into a tight star. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make my way to the Lambert wing.”
She brushed past Josh, snatched up her luggage, and headed for the elevator. Gary scurried behind her.
“I hate that girl,” Gary muttered as the doors closed, shrinking their view of Josh and Bridgette walking away.
“I doubt I’ll like her much more.”
“She flaunts those things around like they’d shrivel if she didn’t show ‘em. Besides, she’s got as much personality as a dead fish.”
“Lovely image.”
“Though, I can’t lie. You’re such a gem in the industry. My polished, rare diamond.”
“Th
anks. I guess you redeemed yourself a little.”
Silence settled between them. Gary rummaged for his brochure again, and after a moment said, “Did you know Hawaii was only admitted to the union in 1959? Can you believe that?”
Paige bit back a smile. The elevator softly dinged and the doors slid open. Before them was a wide hallway, lushly carpeted in deep mahogany and wallpapered with what could be pure silk.
“This is amazing,” she whispered, dragging her hand along the wall. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful place. Which room is Raymond’s?” She found room three, ashamed to admit she was excited to see what lay on the other side of the door.
“Um…” Gary paused. “Raymond’s not coming.”
She paused. Her colleague, her partner, her refuge from the storm—and he wasn’t coming. “Why not?”
“The contracts promised everyone a job. It just so happened that Raymond’s job was with a different show.”
The news was a slap across the face. “Why wasn’t I sent with him?”
“Frankly, no openings.”
Her nostrils flared, the fire springing to life again in her gut. “Oh really? So of all places, I get sent to work on an island with the man who cancelled my show? I don’t buy it for a second. Why couldn’t I have gone where Raymond is, and he come here?”
Gary sighed. “Demographics, Paige. I—”
“Screw demographics. This is infuriating. Of all the people in the country, of all the people on the freaking planet, why should I have to share the same breathing space as the freak who ruined my show?”
“Paige.” He held up his hands, looking wearier than she’d ever seen him. “Let’s just roll with it.”
Her nostrils flared. “Fine. But I’ll have you know, I’m going to be angry about this for at least a week.” She opened the door, and once her eyes landed on the room, her anger disappeared in a puff.
As a born-and-bred Big Apple gal, Paige couldn’t help but look at property in terms of New York realty. The large room sprawled before her was the equivalent of a studio that could easily go for minimum 7k a month, without a view. The vaulted ceiling was made of skylights. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the canopy of greenery beyond the windows, bathing the room in an ethereal light.
Her bed, complete with diaphanous silk draperies, could fit four people. Not to mention the tropically-colored pillows, which were far too many for one head to use in a lifetime. A pleasant scent lingered in the air, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Lilacs? Exotic island fruits? Pure heavenly delight?
“I’ll leave you here to explore. Find me at dinner, and we’ll go over the details.” Gary winked and shut the door behind him. In the corner of the room, flanked by windows, a small fountain gurgled amid miniature palm trees and real, white sand. A large, flat-screen TV facing the bed hung silently.
Talk about luxury. If only Josh Lambert weren’t strolling the halls with some California bimbo on his arm, she’d really be on vacation. Who even was that girl? His toy?
Somewhere in the room, a phone rang. She followed the pleasant sound to a seashell on a nightstand. Brow knitted, she brought it to her ear. “Hello?”
“How are your accommodations?”
The voice was unmistakable. “They’re all right.”
“Just all right? This is the most expensive hotel in the entire archipelago and it’s just all right?” He paused. “You’re hard to please. I like that.”
“What do you want?”
“We’re having dinner in ten minutes. You’re free to join us.”
The smooth tenor of his voice both infuriated and soothed her. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words that felt right. “Okay. Why are you here?”
He laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m on the job, just like you.”
She was scared to know more. Something in her core stirred, a prickly fact that had been nagging at her from the beginning, yet was too scared to acknowledge.
“Hmm.” And she hung up.
****
Josh Lambert snapped his cell phone shut with a smile. Interacting with Paige Alexander was a joy, even if she made it joyless. Something about it inspired him, made him feel a bit more alive than usual, an electric jolt that left him wanting more, even though it singed off the top layer.
He turned to Bridgette. “Paige will be here soon. Listen, I think you two will get along eventually, but you should know, she might be a little…hostile, at first.”
Bridgette glowered. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have transferred her to another show.”
Anxiety sparked in his gut. He would have preferred she never signed in the first place, but the longer he knew Paige, the more it became obvious she didn’t intend to make things easy for him. “There weren’t any openings. This was the only option.” It was the truth—the demand for show hosts wasn’t great throughout the IBC Empire. The fact that he was able to re-distribute two displaced hosts was a miracle in itself.
“Well, let’s hope she behaves herself.” She pinned him with a pointed look. The exchange held a silent threat—her uncle was always a phone call away, and she wasn’t above whining about whatever suited her best on a given day.
Gary entered the room.
Josh flagged him down. “So how is Miss Alexander adjusting to life on the island?” he asked as Gary settled into a seat next to him.
“As well as can be expected.” He smoothed his rumpled button-up over his belly. “We’re about to talk details during dinner here. If you hear any screams, I would exit stage left as quickly as possible, okay?”
Josh cleared his throat. “Do you expect her to be displeased with the arrangement?”
“Is she that much of a diva?” Bridgette crossed her arms over her chest.
An awkward silence settled, and Gary turned his chair toward Josh, physically signaling to Bridgette she was not included. He lowered his voice as he spoke. “I know you just met Paige, and maybe you guys aren’t on the best of terms right now. But the woman is a phenom and you know it. Are you, and this show, prepared to cage the beast you’ve brought onto this island?”
He laughed but quieted once he saw Gary wasn’t smiling.
Gary’s head snapped up and looked at something above his head. “Well, here she comes now. I’m sure we’ll hear everything she has to say.”
Paige strode through the dining room, face as neutral as if she were perusing the classified section of the newspaper. She scanned the room, which was populated with crew members and other patrons of the hotel. Her eyes landed on the table where he, Gary and Bridgette were, and she continued walking the perimeter of the room. Finally, she sat at a table on the other side. The farthest possible point from them.
Gary shrugged. “I’m not surprised. I think I’ll go sit with her. Do you guys mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll stop by in a bit to go over details, once you two have had a chance to talk.”
He nodded and shuffled away.
“How catty,” Bridgette said. “Aren’t we adults here?”
Josh smirked. “Well, to be fair, she’s not exactly happy IBC bought out her local station. But she’ll get over it. Probably.”
She scoffed. “How could you be upset? Look at this place. We’re in Hawaii. Only a real bitch could be here and still salty about something that happened in New York City. Doesn’t she see? IBC is upward movement. Though I suppose if she wants to stay in the Little Leagues, that’s her problem.”
Josh lifted his eyebrows. Defending Paige would get him nowhere. Frustration spiked in his belly. Taking a breather from Bridgette was suddenly priority one. He’d promised Gary he’d give them time to talk over the details but he had to get away now. “Listen, I’m gonna go talk to them real quick. Order me the chicken whatever when they come by.”
“With blue cheese for the salad or low-fat ranch?” Bridgette asked, clutching his bicep.
He looked back at her, stumped. “Uh….”
“We’ll do low fat ranc
h,” she said. “I’ll get that too. We can share it.”
He nodded, the familiar knot in his stomach appearing as it did whenever her proprietary fits came on. Something about it made him want to run far, far away. Not just from Bridgette…but from the whole damn island.
Gary and Paige were buried in conversation as he approached. Josh pulled up an extra chair. “It’s a good thing you showed up. The food here is pretty good.”
She blinked at him.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” Josh said. “I know you’re probably going over details. But I came to formally welcome you, Paige. The show is fun. You’ll like it. If you’ll let yourself, that is.”
“Well…” Paige smoothed her napkin in her lap. She didn’t say anything else.
“Great. Off to a good start.” He cleared his throat, unsure of what, exactly, lay behind her reticence. Paige the Wild Card made him nervous. He didn’t know whether to expect cordial compliance or something sneaky and sinister down the road, like toothpaste switched for shampoo. “In the meantime, why don’t you try enjoying the place a bit? There’s a ton to do here.”
“Any mini-golf?” Gary asked. “I love the windmill challenges. I’m almost a professional mini-golfer.”
“I heard you got your Master’s in Windmill challenges, isn’t that right?” She cracked a smile and Gary looked relieved. They would go far in the business together, a fact Josh felt down to his bones. Pairs like this were rare in the industry.
“You’re in paradise. Anything you want, you can have or do.”
“Except leave,” Paige said.
Josh bit back a smile. “Except that.”
****
Paige seethed on the inside. Josh’s cockiness suffocated her from across the room. Even with her back turned to him. Even when she was making every effort to enjoy the paté and champagne and focus on humid sea breezes and potential sunbathing.
“I’m gonna go get changed for the pool,” Gary said once his meal was finished and he’d sat rubbing his belly happily for a while, standard protocol for his digestion. “Will you meet me down there?”
“Probably. I’d like to take a few laps. Get my mind off…you know what.”