“Eyes forward, Raúl.”
He drags a hand over his jaw, something appreciative flickering across his face. “Shame about the dress. Probably easier just to take it off, huh?”
Sunshine is already shoving him out of the way, laughing, while my face flames. The smell of food thickens as we move further down the corridor. We come through another set of doors into the kitchen. The meal having been served, it’s a humid wall of steam, with the added smell of vinegar and soap. She keeps hold of my hand, and I follow close at her back until we reach a small door off the main kitchen marked STAFF.
“Alright, darlin’. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
She’s gone before I can respond. I take in the staff room—nicer than I expected, which feels like it says something good about the resort. Long rows of lockers, a foosball table, communal benches big enough to host family-style lunches, vending machines. The door swings open and Marco from the front desk pulls up short, eyes going wide when he sees me.
“Rosaria.” I’m surprised he remembers.
I give a small wave. “Hey Marco.”
He opens his mouth, glances around for an explanation as to why a guest is invading his space, and his eyes land on the stain. Right then, Sunshine shoulders back through the door.
“Okay, I got club soda, but Bethanne swears by hydrogen peroxide, so she can mix us up a little soapy blend. What’s your poison?”
“Umm.”
“Club soda,” Marco says. “Cold water first, though.” He walks over to one of the lockers and pulls out a folded t-shirt and shorts with the resort’s logo on them. “These are new, don’t worry. Leftover from our softball game last year.”
I take the clothes, feeling my heart swell at his kindness. “Did you win?” I ask.
His eyes glitter. “No.” He and Sunshine both start laughing, like it’s an inside joke.
“Well, thank you for these.”
“Don’t mention it. Sunshine, Rosaria, enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Marco grabs a bag out of his locker and escapes the way he came in, then it’s just us.
“Okay, strip.”
I feel ridiculous, but I grab the shorts and shimmy them on under the dress, then turn away to pull on the t-shirt. The front of it has the Eastern Whale Resort logo beside a giant peach that looks, unmistakably, like a juicy ass.
Sunshine snorts. “Raúl designed those. Are you shocked?”
“Not even a little.”
Her smile dims slightly as she holds out her arm. I hand over the dress. “What’s the verdict?”
I shrug. “Club soda is fine.”
“Aww, honey, don’t be down. It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not that.”
Sunshine crosses to the sink and starts running cold water over the fabric. “Let me guess. You’re wondering if your sister did that on purpose?”
I laugh, short and humorless. “Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to me it might have been an accident.”
“Well, that’s too bad. For the record, it did look like one. But I can tell you two don’t exactly get along.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Sunshine hums, scrubbing at the stain. I watch her for a moment. “You really don’t have to do that,” I say, wincing. She offered, but I handed it over without thinking.
“Nonsense. I wasn’t in a plane crash three days ago.” She peers at me, then wrings out the dress and lays it flat, opening a bottle of club soda and carefully pouring it over the stain.
