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She shakes her head. “I should probably quit while I’m ahead. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
“Oh? I’m just about off the clock. Want to grab dinner with me?”
The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. I’ve been working here for a couple months—since the colony opened. It’s a dream gig, and getting involved with the colonists is probably not the best way to keep it. What am I thinking?
Easy answer. I’m thinking I might die a little if she says no.
“I should get back,” she says.
“Oh. Sure. I understand.”
“It’s just…”
“Hey, you don’t owe me any explanation, p— Emily.”
She smiles then, and it’s like a holiday carol. Bright and beautiful and joyous. God, what’s the matter with me?
“You know what, Keanu?”
“Scotty.”
“Okay.” Her smile brightens further. “Scotty. I think I’d like to get some dinner. When are you off?”
I glance at my phone that’s sitting on the end of the bar. “Just about…now.” I was off ten minutes ago, actually, but Emily took precedence. I shove the phone in my pocket and pull my signature move.
I jump over the bar and land next to her.
“Goofball,” Lyle, who’s taking the next shift, says under his breath.
I ignore him. He’s my pal and makes a mean drink, but he can fuck off at the moment.
I hold out my arm, and Emily pauses a second before she links her own through it.
Yeah, this beautiful woman is definitely hiding something. Maybe I’ll get her to open up.
Or at least open her legs.
I wouldn’t mind tapping what’s between them.
Wouldn’t mind that at all.
3
Emily
“What do you feel like tonight?” Scotty asks me.
“I have no idea.”
“It’s mostly island food, but it you want something American, we can go to the burger bar.”
Truth be told, I haven’t been to any of the restaurants here at the colony. I’ve either ordered room service or had food delivered beachside when I left the room to attend a class. Now, I’m a little freaked.
“A burger’s fine.”
“A burger it is, then.” We step up to the burger bar. It’s not a bar so much as a sit-down place with tables. All the eateries here at the colony are outdoor, covered in thatch roofing, of course, in case of rain, which sometimes occurs in the afternoons. Still, it’s always so warm that having no walls doesn’t matter.
A scantily clad hostess takes us to a table for two. “Your server will be with you in a minute.”
“What’s your pleasure?” Scotty picks up the menu on the side of the table.
“Just a basic burger.”
“Cheese?”
“No. I’m one of those weird people who doesn’t like cheese on a burger.” True story. It takes away from the flavor of the meat, in my opinion.
“Heathen!” He smiles.
“Hey, Scotty.” A nice-looking man in an island print shirt—this one yellow with tropical flowers, and even louder than Scotty’s—and surf shorts struts up. “Who’s your friend?”
“Hey, Nemo. This is Emily.”
“You an artist?” Nemo asks.
I nod. “I try to be.”
“Welcome. When did you arrive?”
“Four days ago.”
“Really? Most people from the states can’t wait to try the burgers here.”
I have no idea what to say, so I say nothing.
“I’ll have the usual,” Scotty says, nodding to me.
“What’s the usual?” I ask.
Nemo laughs. “You don’t want to know!”
I raise my eyebrows at Scotty.
“The staff makes fun of me. It’s a double, medium rare, with horseradish cheddar, green chili sauce, and a fried egg.”
“Ugh.” I twist my lips into a grimace.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Scotty laughs.
“I don’t do eggs,” I tell him. “They’re gross.”
“That’s it.” Scotty shakes his head with another smile. “It’s over between us.”
It’s a joke, I know, but still warmth creeps to my cheeks. I didn’t come here to have a fling. I came here to…
God. So don’t want to think about that at the moment.
“I’ll have a single, medium, with lettuce, tomato, and pickle.”
“One basic American, sans cheese.” Nemo scribbles on his pad.
“That’s me,” I say. “Just a basic American.”
“Pretty girl”—Scotty smiles—“there’s nothing basic about you that I can see.”
Basic. Such an innocuous word. What I wouldn’t give to actually be a basic American at the moment. Just another girl no one notices.
Invisible.
Invisibility has its perks.
“So here we are,” Scotty says, after Nemo leaves, “one Scotty and one basic American.”
“Your burger is called the Scotty?”
“Sure is. No one else orders it.”
“Shocking.” I take a drink of the water Nemo left for us.
He laughs.
“So the burger you invented has a name, but your special drink doesn’t?”
“Yup.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Just never found the right name,” he says, “and now I know why. You were meant to name it, pretty girl.”
I swallow another drink of water.
Feelings bubble inside me. Feelings I don’t want to have. I came here to escape. To be invisible. The last thing I need is to start down this road.
Scotty’s probably just being nice. He’s a bartender on a tropical island, for God’s sake. He probably beds someone new each week. Each day, even.
