Good Girl

by Tricia O'Malley

  “Trying to play by your parents’ rules?” Lola asked, her voice soft through the phone.

  “I guess I just thought… if I finally got that promotion then – well, then I would be happy. That was the carrot at the end of the stick, you know?” Sam sighed, and ran one hand through her damp hair. She hadn’t bothered to blowdry it in this heat, something else that was completely out of character for her. Usually she was perfectly coiffed at all times.

  “When are you going to look at what you want for yourself and not what your family or society or the upper crust of our crappy city wants? What does it matter? When will you start living life for you?”

  “I… I don’t know. It’s all I’ve ever known,” Sam said, anxiety beginning to creep in once more. “The one time I tried to live for myself, aside from not going to law school, was when I dated Noah. And you know how well that turned out.”

  “It would have turned out better if you’d given him more of a chance. Introducing him to your family too soon was not a smart choice,” Lola said. She’d been a fierce supporter of Noah, a struggling musician who worked at a bookstore to make ends meet. He’d been soulful, kind, and covered in tattoos. Sam had been swept away when she’d met him; Noah had looked at her like he could see her soul, not just what she presented to the world. But it hadn’t taken long for her family to poison the relationship, and she’d been hurried into an engagement with Nathaniel, an up-and-coming attorney in her father’s law firm.

  Lola had hated him.

  “What am I doing, Lola?” Sam whispered.

  “I’d say you’re having a well-deserved break. Take some time to think about what you want. You. Not your parents. Not your brothers. Not any of your colleagues at work. What makes you happy?”

  “I don’t know. I do like working with numbers; that was never the issue. I like how they all line up neatly,” Sam said.

  “That’s fine. But can you work with numbers in another capacity? It doesn’t always have to be the first choice that presents itself, you know.”

  “I’ve never even thought about it,” Sam admitted. And she hadn’t. She’d taken the best of the jobs offered to her after she’d graduated with top marks from university, and that had been it.

  “Wouldn’t now be a good time? I firmly believe that things happen for a reason. Maybe it isn’t always clear to you why, but sometimes the universe throws a stumbling block in your path because you need to stop moving in the direction you’re heading and take a damn look around you. And look at this! You’ve been busting your ass for years for this promotion and didn’t get it. Why do you think that is?” Lola asked.

  “Because I wasn’t good enough.” The words burned into Sam’s gut. She rubbed a hand across her stomach and absently wondered if she was getting an ulcer.

  “No, dummy. It’s because it’s not your destiny,” Lola proclaimed.

  “And you know what my destiny is?” Sam asked. It wouldn’t surprise her. Lola was in touch with all sorts of psychics and tarot card readers and whatnot – she’d probably gotten a reading on Samantha at some point.

  “No, I don’t. But I know that you sound more alive during this phone call than you have in years, albeit a little sad and stressed. How many dinners have I had to sit through with you when you’ve just gotten back from someplace exotic like Majorca, only to have you bore me with the latest innovations in client reservation systems?”

  “Ouch,” Samantha said, biting her lip.

  “Not ouch. I love you; I’ll listen to you drone on about spreadsheets if that’s what lights you up inside. But you weren’t telling me about your job because you love it. You were telling me about it because it’s all you know. Don’t you want to know something different? Just for a little while, at least?”

  “You know what, Lola? I think I do. I really think I might be ready for a change.” When a little burst of excitement shot through her core, she realized that maybe Lola was right. And that panic that came rushing in on the cusp of the excitement? Well, she’d just try to pretend that didn’t exist. At least for the next three weeks.

  Maybe coming to Siren Island had been the best decision she’d made in a long time.

  “Thatta girl. Now don’t call me again until you’ve got some juicy gossip. Nothing to do with spreadsheets. Oh, and ignore all text messages from your parents and work.”

  “I have to let them know I’m safe,” Samantha said automatically.

  “So tell them you’re alive, that you’re taking a well-deserved vacation, and then shut your phone off. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 9

  She’d need a car.

  Samantha berated herself for not having thought to reserve one, but she was used to traveling to more metropolitan places that always had taxis available. How was she going to get around this island if she didn’t have a car? Although, now that she thought about it, where was she even going to go? It was a decidedly unnerving experience to have no agenda whatsoever. She drummed her fingers nervously on the table as she searched through the guidebook Irma had left for her.

  “There. Car rental.”

  Grateful for her international phone plan, Samantha placed the call, and was even happier to hear they offered a car delivery service. Better and better.

  “Now, where am I going?”

  Seeing as how it was already late afternoon, Samantha decided on just a quick trip to the grocery store for a few essentials, a bottle of wine, and a small look at the town to get her bearings. Then she’d hustle back and catch the sunset and read more of her smutty romance novel. There, that’s something Lola would do, Sam thought. Well, Lola would probably go out and live the smutty romance novel, but Sam was taking baby steps here. It took everything in her power not to switch on her phone and check for work emails. She’d always been readily available for work, and she could only imagine the fit they were having with their emails getting zero response.

  “You’re taking a holiday from work, Samantha Jameson. Normal people can turn off their work and go on a vacation. They even put a vacation responder on their email and the rest of the world just has to deal. Life goes on. The company will be fine without you,” Sam lectured herself as she went downstairs to wait for the car delivery.

  “The company will most certainly be fine without you,” Jolie said from the base of the stairs, giving Sam a jolt. She’d been so stuck in her head that she hadn’t even noticed the woman – looking as radiant as yesterday in a brilliant blue caftan with her midnight hair pulled back in twists and curls.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to talk out loud,” Samantha said, feeling heat creep across her face. Would she be constantly unnerved around these people?

  “No bother. We all talk to ourselves. How was your rest?” Jolie asked, propping a hip on the banister and smiling at Sam in a friendly manner. She seemed to have lost a bit of her edge from yesterday, and Sam briefly wondered if Mirra had lectured her.

  Be nice to the crazy woman. She’s about to have a breakdown.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever slept so long in my life. I can’t believe I’ve missed almost a full day of vacation,” Sam apologized, tugging the strap of her bag onto her shoulder.

  Jolie tilted her head and studied Samantha through piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul.

  “Why would you apologize for sleeping? We all need sleep,” Jolie asked, her tone light.

  “Because it seems a wasteful way to spend an entire day – in paradise, no less. I should be doing…” Sam’s voice trailed off. It felt uncomfortable to not have an itinerary, or even a hint of an idea of what she should be doing with her time.

  “Doing what?”

  “Uh, I suppose I don’t know. I’m used to being highly scheduled in all aspects of my life,” Sam admitted.

  “Isn’t a holiday meant to be just that – a holiday? A break from routine?” Jolie asked, twirling a long chain that hung between her breasts. Samantha wanted to smile at the spa
rkly mermaid pendant at the end of the chain.

  “So I’ve been told,” Samantha murmured, giving Jolie a sheepish smile.

  “I think you’re doing a lovely job of holidaying,” Jolie twinkled at her, all smiles and good cheer. “You’ve thrown your schedule out the window, slept for twenty-four hours, and I have to say you look decidedly better for it. You were a bit scary when you arrived.”

  “Jolie,” Mirra warned from the doorway. Surprised, Sam realized she must have been standing there for a while.

  “What? Well, she did. All pale and tense. Look at her now. She’s got some color in her cheeks, the shadows aren’t so dark under her eyes, and she seems more relaxed. I’d say it did her a world of good,” Jolie said, rolling her eyes at her sister.

  “Please excuse Jolie, she’s not always the best with human – I mean, the most tactful with people.” Mirra seemed to catch herself, and the sisters exchanged a look that put Sam’s senses on alert.

  “I’m complimenting the woman, aren’t I? How is that not tactful?” Jolie grumbled, then beamed as a dusty two-seater pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of the villa. “See? Look at that. She’s even gone and rented herself a truck. I’d say our Samantha is doing just fine for herself.”

  Jolie raced outside in a flurry of blue silk and streaming curls, and Sam watched as a slack-jawed teenager nodded enthusiastically at whatever she was saying to him. Sam commiserated with the boy: Jolie was a force of nature.

  “There now, I’ve got you all sorted. Terry’s promised you’ll get the local discount rate, and he’s even leaving a local cellphone in the car in case you need help. You’re a doll, Terry, have I told you that?”

  The boy blushed and nodded, his brown eyes full of devotion for Jolie. A jaunty beep sounded and Terry waved as a similarly run-down island pick-up truck sailed by and scooped him up. In moments, they were gone and Samantha stood gaping at the truck.

  “Don’t I have to sign any papers?”

  “Nah, they know where to find us if there’s any issues.” Jolie waved it away and then smiled at Samantha.

  “Where are you headed? Do you need directions?” Mirra asked.

  “Um, I’m thinking just a grocery store or market for some fruit and a bottle of wine. Maybe take a peek at the town. Is there a town?”

  The sisters both broke into laughter at that. The sound was a song all its own and birds began to sing in response in the trees. Shading her eyes, Sam looked up to see two bright green birds with brilliant yellow shoulders squawking in the branches of the plumeria tree above them.

  “They aren’t the ones singing,” Mirra said, wiggling her fingers at the parrots. “They sure are pretty, aren’t they? Couldn’t carry a tune if their life depended on it, though.”

  One of the birds let out a squawk of indignation, surprising a chuckle from Samantha. It just looked so… annoyed at Mirra’s words, fluffing its feathers up and dancing its head up and down.

  “We all must play to our strengths, lovies, you know that.” Mirra blew a kiss to the birds and they both bounced their heads in delight.

  “They really are stunning,” Samantha said, enjoying their brilliant colors.

  “See, darlings? She thinks you’re pretty too. Now don’t fuss too much about not being able to sing. We make do with what we have,” Mirra said, and the birds flew off, seemingly content with her words.

  Sam almost shook her head at herself. Here she was thinking parrots had personalities and could understand what they were saying. Maybe she was slowly going off the deep end.

  “The town, all four blocks of it, is not far from here. Just follow this dirt road until it becomes paved. It’ll take you past the grocery store and various restaurants or huts. There are a few stands on the side of the road that sell fruit, and delicious juices as well,” Jolie said.

  “Great, sounds good. I should be back in not too long. If I don’t get lost, that is,” Sam said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She rounded the truck and plopped into the driver’s seat, noting the lack of leather seats and – were those actual manual window cranks? She wondered what year the car was made. Her eyes tracked to the controls as a quick spurt of panic hit her, but it was quickly put to rest when she saw the air conditioning switch.

  “There’s really one main road. On your way back, look for the mermaid statue tucked in the trees. Turn left after it, and you’ll find us again. If not, call for help.”

  “Will do.” Samantha smiled her thanks as the girls went inside.

  It was only then that the panic hit like a bag of bricks to her head.

  “Help!”

  Jolie scampered back out with Mirra at her heels.

  “What’s wrong, darling?”

  “I can’t… this is… I can’t drive this.” Sam gestured helplessly at the stick shift transmission.

  The sisters slid each other a look, and then turned back to Sam. She knew what they were thinking – “Americans” – but she didn’t care. Automatic was easier to drive and that was that.

  “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you to drive a manual?” Jolie asked, leaning in the window.

  “We had a few lessons years ago before giving up. There was that one time I drove a stick in Tasmania, but that was out of sheer necessity.”

  “See? You’ll pick it right back up. Let me help,” Jolie said, and hopped into the dusty front seat, unconcerned about her pretty blue caftan getting dirty. Samantha wondered if dust was just something everyone on the island accepted, as it seemed to be everywhere.

  “I’m not so sure about this,” Sam said anxiously.

  “Do you remember the basics?” Jolie asked.

  “It’s an H, right?”

  “Yup, the gears are set up in a standard H. To change gears, you’ll need to press the clutch in.”

  Sam looked down at the third pedal on the floorboard, and gingerly found it with her foot.

  “Maybe I should just get another car,” Samantha said, throwing Jolie a desperate glance.

  “Honey, they’re all manual. Good luck finding an automatic on island, unless someone shipped it in for private use. You’ll be fine. We’re used to tourists stalling. The locals do a good job of not crowding your car at stops or hills.”

  “Hills…” Samantha gulped, realizing she simultaneously didn’t want to have to drive to buy that bottle of wine, and wanted it more than ever.

  “It’s no worries. You’ll get on just fine. Go on now, turn it on.” Jolie patted the truck like a lover and Samantha almost whimpered.

  She only had herself to blame for this.

  Chapter 10

  She bought caftans. And sarongs. And a long dangly necklace with stones the color of the sea.

  “This would be lovely on you.” The shop owner, spying a mark as soon as Samantha had stepped in the door, a sheen of sweat covering her from the panic of stalling four times and trying to find a parking spot, had quickly ushered her to stand under the air conditioner. She chatted easily with Samantha and finally, once the cool air had calmed her nerves a bit, Samantha had looked weakly around to discover a shop full of brightly colored fabrics – flowing dresses, elegant caftans, and easy beach pants. There wasn’t a black dress to be seen.

  “I… I couldn’t wear that,” Samantha gulped, staring at the siren-red bikini the woman held before her.

  “It comes with a matching wrap. See how pretty it would be with your skin tone?” The woman, her face creased in a smile, held the suit up in front of Samantha.

  “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can wear a bikini,” Samantha said, glancing down at her body and back at the suit.

  “And why not? Every woman should own a pretty suit to make a man’s head turn.” The store owner laughed, a big booming laugh that suggested she’d made more than one man’s head turn in her time.

  “That’s… highly unlikely with me,” Samantha said and then began internally berating herself. Why was she putting herself down? Men often approached her – though un
fortunately it was usually in the work environment and at highly inappropriate times. Perhaps if she did more than just work all the time she’d be approached elsewhere, Samantha could all but hear Lola’s chiding voice say in her head.

  “Ah, you Americans are so uptight with your bodies. Relax, enjoy, live your life. Nobody on the island will judge you – only you.” With that, Samantha was pressed behind a fitting curtain, suit in hand.

  Samantha held the suit up in front of herself, because the last thing she was going to do was peel off her sweat-soaked sundress and wrench her body into a bathing suit, rolling the material up her sticky skin. Standing there, she studied herself, seeing now how the black of her simple tank dress washed her out – highlighting those shadows beneath her eyes that she habitually covered but barely paid attention to, so consistently did they mar her skin. The red stood out like a flame against the black of her dress and as Sam held the wrap close to her skin she saw it did seem to warm her. She missed wearing red, she realized. Why had she limited her wardrobe to a sea of black and muted colors? Suddenly hating the dress she wore, Sam poked her head out of the curtain.

  “Pick out a dress for me, please. In red.”

  That was how Samantha found herself wandering back to her car, two hefty shopping bags in hand, one filled to the brim with brightly colored fabrics – none of which would be appropriate for her frigidly cold offices in the States – and the other with fruit, cheese, a baguette, and several bottles of wine. Pleased with her purchases, Samantha surprised herself once more by humming her way back to the truck and depositing the packages on the dusty front seat.

  “Now, drive this truck like an island girl,” Samantha ordered herself and smiled at a man who nodded at her from across the street. It wasn’t the first greeting she’d received since she’d left the shop wearing her new red dress – a maxi dress that was cut low over her breasts and had bright blue pom-poms at the hem. It was more daring and, at the same time, more freeing than she would usually have chosen, but since nobody knew her here, she decided she just didn’t care.