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I quickly scroll through the details of the alert, trying to get the gist as I read it aloud to myself.
“Meteorologists suspect it will strengthen ... potentially turning into a Category Two or Three before it makes landfall in less than forty-eight hours.”
That would be early Wednesday morning. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like we’re in the hurricane’s direct path. The Dominican Republic will bear the brunt of it, but we aren’t in the clear. The proposed path puts us on the east side of the hurricane; rainfall estimates are already worrisome. There’s only one course of action. I look up to see that Todd’s on his phone as well, though when I look down to see if he’s reading the weather alert like I was—no. He’s placing an Uber Eats order. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“The tropical storm got bumped up to a hurricane ...”
He keeps his focus down on his screen, trying to decide between waffle fries or curly fries before caving and adding both to his order. “What?”
I grit my teeth, surprised they can withstand the pressure.
I’m going to kill him. I will.
It’s only through a herculean effort that I manage to keep my tone nonthreatening as I continue. “They’re already expecting a lot of rainfall, and the hurricane will only strengthen. We should suspend check-insand suggest that current resort guests search for earlier flights back to the mainland.”
It’s actually a win-win. We keep the guests safe, and we get the preppers out of here.
Todd laughs off my concern, and once he’s finished placing his order—which, for the record, is either a second breakfast (he ate the first in my office; the fast-food wrappers are still on my desk) or a very early lunch—he tucks his phone away and gives me a pitying look. “How long have you lived on the island, Cole?”
“Five years,” I say with a tired voice. I know where this is heading ...
“Right. Well, I’ve lived here half my life. Practically an islander by birth,” he says with a little self-righteous chuckle.
Visions of propelling him off a cliff keep me from losing it altogether as he continues. “Let me tell you something, Cole. This hotel has continued to operate through countless storms and even a few hurricanes while I’ve been in charge.” He sayshurricaneslike he’s a punk-ass teenager confronted by a perceived scaredy-cat, wiggling his fingers and adding a condescending tone. “I won’t close down operations because you’re worried about a little rainfall.”
My jaw clenches so tight, I can barely force my next words out. “I’m not worried about a little rainfall, sir. I just think it’s worth—”
His eyes darken with annoyance. He’s not used to having to deal with my insubordination, but that’s only because he’s so far removed from the actual day-to-day operations of this place, he doesn’t realize how often I totally ignore his orders and do what I want. Now here we are with an actual emergency on our hands, and he’s fumbling the ball. “We aren’t closing, and that’s final. Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?”
As he asks this, he’s forced to retrieve a small handkerchief from his pocket so he can dab it across his sweaty forehead.
I ignore his taunt and, in a tired tone, confirm: “So we’ll continue as normal? No evacuation orders? No gentle suggestion for guests to get back to the mainland?”
He scoffs and shakes his head as he stands. When he walks out of my office, he taps on his phone—presumably so he can refresh Uber Eats ad infinitum, just for the pleasure of watching that little animated car drawing closer with his food. I wait until he’s down the hall, until I hear his office door close, and then I head straight for the maintenance and grounds crew office.
They operate out of a building just behind the main hotel. The group of guys, many of whom areactuallynative to this island, are clustered around a TV propped up on a desk, watching the news about the weather with bleak expressions.
“Not good,” their manager says with a foreboding shake of his head.
They agree with me that it’d be prudent to take precautions. Behind Todd’s back, I put in orders to prepare the resort for the hurricane. We have everything we need on site, like sandbags to contend with rising waters and plywood to reinforce weak points on resort buildings. Most of the main hotel complex is equipped with storm shutters, but not auxiliary buildings like staff housing. Todd will lose his mind if I start hammering windows shut, though, so I tell them to be strategic about it, to keep the guests calm and do what they can behind the scenes.
Next item on my ever-growing to-do list?
Find Paige.
Chapter Fourteen
PAIGE
I’m in a walk-in supply closet inside the main hotel. I don’t have to be here. I’m technically on break until 11:00 a.m., when I have to be down on the beach for surf lessons, but I’m taking one for the team and restocking the shelves in here, cleaning up the space, getting my anger out in the healthiest way possible.
I’ve already been in here for over an hour, but it’s not enough. I can’t be in polite company right now. I’ll scream. If I looked in a mirror, my eyes would probably be two red flames. My blonde hair will have turned into furious little snakes. I’m Medusa without the magical stone-making abilities.
So here I am, in a moderately dark, stuffy closet, organizing shelves and talking to myself while I do it. More specifically, I’m role-playing what I would say to Cole if he were the dumbass mop tilted haphazardly against the far corner. I even put a bucket on top of the handle and everything. If I squint, it kind of looks like him.
“And you know what else?” I say, pointing to Mop-Cole with so much conviction I could be a lawyer giving my closing arguments in a crowded courtroom. “I regret that time I told Théo and Oscar that you aren’t ‘that bad’! Yeah, I should have just let them keep tearing youapart. They were going on and on about what an asshole you are, and I felt bad for you. Can you IMAGINE THAT?! I feltBADforYOU! The literal devil!”
“Everything okay in here, sweetie?”
