Thinking about Barb reminded Cassidy of the text she sent when they’d landed. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and found, surprisingly, that no response awaited her.
“What do you two think? Worth the seven K we paid?” Apricot asked.
Cassidy darkened her phone screen and looked up.
“It’s not amazing, but at least we have it all to ourselves. And look at this porch!” Cassidy said, hoping that Apricot wasn’t making a direct attack on her presence. But Apricot’s face remained cheery as Cassidy opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside to watch the waves beyond the trunks of the palm trees. The porch extended fully from one side of the villa to the other and had entrances from both bedrooms as well.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t get this in the video! This is great! Isn’t it, Dais?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Daisy said, her words sounding automatic as she leaned against the railing and took a selfie with the ocean in the background.
Rosethoughttheyshouldcomplain. Even if she and Edie only had a tent for the weekend, it was aluxurytent, and so it should really have air conditioning.
“It will be fine, trust me,” Edie said. “I stayed in a tent just like this in Morocco, and they really cool down at night.”
“You’re also used to the heat,” Rose said, fanning herself. “I’m going to have a stroke. I need to change into my swimsuit.”
“That’s fine. No one expects us to wear any more than that the entire time we’re here, anyhow. But how are you not used to the heat when you live in L.A. half the time?” Edie asked, tipping her suitcase onto its side and unzipping it.
“Because I have air conditioning!” Rose said.
With all the flaps down on the tent, Rose stripped out of shorts and tank top and replaced them with a green bikini and a sheer white wrap that she loved for the way it clung and wrapped around her legs in the wind. Edie did the same, dressing in a more intricate black strappy number with geometric shapes covering her breasts and groin.
“I love that on you. Are you wearing that all day?” Rose asked.
“Yeah, I got it sent to me specifically to wear on the first day. They’re paying me a crazy amount every time I post for them on Insta.”
Rose nodded approvingly, and Edie led the way out of the tent. She zipped the door flap up along the front and pressed the padlock to her wristband, engaging the mechanism inside and changing the light from green to red. They both slipped on their oversized sunglasses and headed toward the closest bar, one of many along the beach nestled between bushes with brightly colored red and orange and even purple leaves—or so Edie thought. When she asked Rose to stop in front of a larger bush that provided a backdrop for a selfie for both of them, she realized that the colored leaves weren’t leaves at all, but the veiny petals of tropical flowers.
Rose drew her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and reviewed the photo.
“That’s mint. Post it,” she said, and then stepped over the threshold of the open-air bar.
The women turned heads upon entering. Edie suppressed a smile. Everyone here was beautiful, being either models or children of famous actors blessed with good genes or the money to look like they had good genes, but she and Rose were unmatched in their radiance. Edie was darker than Rose, but both women had completely clear skin and sharp, angular bone structures that allowed them to set fire to the camera with a coy look or simply warm it with a gentle smile.
If someone asked Edie if she liked the attention, she demurred, but in truth, she loved it. She only felt that she wasn’t supposed to, but she recognized both their beauty. They built livelihoods based on their looks, meaning a typical day involved looking into mirrors or at pictures and videos of themselves and finding and memorizing the right poses to sell the hot product of the week. It wasn’t vanity, she thought, just subjective truth: She was beautiful. They both were. But people thought less of models when they acknowledged their own beauty, especially as Black women, and so she and Rose both pretended not to notice the eyes lingering on them as they approached the bar for drinks.
The counter of the tiki bar wrapped around a central island of glass bottles such that it was approachable from all sides of the wall-less structure. A white guy with a strong jawline in a Hawaiian shirt approached them from behind the bar.
“Mojito, please,” Rose said.
“Same for me.”
The bartender’s charming smile grew to a full-toothed grin, and he pointed a finger at Rose and bounced it for a moment before pointing at Edie.
“I love your accents. Let me guess where you’re both from. Tell me about yourselves, what’s your name?” he said before placing his palms on the bar to plant himself in the conversation.
Rose smiled, fluttering her eyelashes against her cheeks. Edie knew this meant the intrusion irritated Rose.
“My name is Rose Turner. I’m a model, I’ve been on the cover of British Vogue twice, and I love to swim,” She punctuated her sentence with a practiced smile, which the bartender returned.
“I’m gonna say … Liverpool?” he guessed.
“Obviously,” Rose said.
“Ah!” He beamed and turned his attention to Edie. “Okay, round two.”
“You’re going to guess the city I’m from?” Edie felt more willing to play but didn’t think he stood much of a chance with her.
