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Apparently, Lara and Camila aren’t interested in helping me bag Blaze, so I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. I’m hardly going to attract his attention by sitting over here on a beach towel, so I think I’ll roast a marshmallow.Yes.A big fluffy white marshmallow that I have to seductively slide onto the end of a long stick, and if it looks slightly erotic (like I’m ... oh, I don’t know, giving a hand job), well, oopsies! I had no idea. I think I’ll add another, slower this time. I really have to pump it into place.
Oh good!
He’s looking now!
No one else is as close to the fire as I am because it’s balmy and hot out tonight—the bonfire is more aesthetics than survival—but I preferit that way. I’ve got center stage. I imagine the flames dancing across my face in an alluring way, but clearly, it’s still not enough. Blaze still isn’t coming over here. So—and I’m not proud about this;sorry, Mom—I lean over to get my marshmallows closer to the flames while exhibitingwaytoo much cleavage. I’m nearly toppling out of this lavender dress.
Then I smell something.
Oh right, burning hair.
“Ahhh!” I leap away from the fire, swatting at my head. It didn’t really burn much, just a few strands, but it sufficiently put the kibosh on my little performance.
“You good, Paige?” Oscar adds with a barely restrained smile.
“Yes,” I chirp, trying to brush off my embarrassment.
Now I’ve got nothing to show for all that effort aside from two blackened marshmallows and slightly less hair than I came here with. Blaze isn’t even looking at me anymore. What a waste. I should have really gone for it. Maybe accidentally stuck a finger or two into the flames so Blaze could have played the hero and nursed me back to health.
I could have really played it up, had him carry me all the way back to the resort complex so we could wake up Dr. Missick. I would have been such a good little damsel, crushing my chest against his, nestling my head in the crook of his neck, whimpering on cue.
Yes, risk bodily harm to get the attention of a man. Feminism has got nothing on me!
Lara and Camila don’t say a word as I reclaim my seat beside them on the beach towel. Lara passes me a beer, and I sit and drink, alone and hating myself for thinking of Cole and what he could possibly be up to at a time like this.
Chapter Three
COLE
I was raised by two robots. To this day, I’m not certain of the inner workings of my parents, whether they have real feelings or whether they’re merely mimicking the facial expressions of the humans they live among. Whether they bleed blood or motor oil. Certain questions haunt me: Do my parents go forrealyearly checkups at the doctor, or do they just sit in the parking lot for a designated amount of time before driving home for a tune-up in our garage? Do they need to eat to sustain life, or are they just doing it for my benefit?Mmm ... chicken.
Susan and Patrick Clark raised me in the suburbs of Ohio—two accountants whose idea of a wild night consists of popping in a DiGiorno and working ahead on company audits. They live in a squat one-story in a suburb filled with squat one-stories. Their living room furniture all falls into a restricted spectrum of light gray with beige accents.
I’m smart. Like them, I’m good at math, so I went off to college and double majored in business and finance. I didn’t even think much of it. Of course I would major in those subjects. It didn’t strike me as anything all that important until the night of my college graduation,seven years ago. My parents took me to a world-renowned steak house where they both ordered salads with sides of soup, no bread.
My dad spoke up in a monotone voice and told me that he’d put in a good word at his company. If I wanted, I had a position there. Working with him.
I could get a house in their neighborhood, gray furniture of my own.
That night, I applied to graduate school for hospitality management. When looking for jobs, I only considered locations my parents wouldnevergo.
It’s why I’m here in Turks and Caicos.
I understand it’s not exactly the idyllic version of things. You’re supposed to know your life’s passion from infancy, right out of the womb. Bam—you want to be a doctor? Here, have this toy stethoscope. Apparently, I should have been playing bellman and concierge as a young child. Even still, I’ve found that I really enjoy this field. Coming from two robots, it’s no surprise that I like searching out inefficiencies, numbers that don’t add up, systems that can be tweaked and made perfect. I rose fast in the ranks because of my attention to detail, and now I have my sights set on a director position within the resort.
It’s why I’m taking this early-morning meeting with Todd Weaver.
Todd Weaver has a paunch belly and a bad toupee. He’s perpetually cleaning something out of his front teeth with the tip of his tongue, and never, not once, has he applied enough deodorant to mask the stench of his body odor. I want his job. I want him off this island. I never want to smell his particular brand of musk ever again.
“You’re doing a damn fine job here, Cole. A damn fine job.”
Yes, obviously. I already know that.
Todd sits behind his desk, leaned back so the buttons on his shirt are giving everything they’ve got.Hold, brothers!
Behind him, there’s a panoramic view of the ocean. I love swimming out there in the morning before work. I enjoy running along the beach, too, hiking through the island trails, anything that gets me outside. Turks and Caicos has so much to offer, and I take full advantage.Back in my suburb of Ohio, we had a man-made lake that shone sickly blue from the chemicals they pumped into it. Surrounding it was a pale concrete running path. No trees. Not a single one. It’s like there was an ordinance against them.
I’m never leaving this island.
