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This thing is about as safe as the boat I'm sitting in.
The wood is splintered and broken. Even the metal is cracked where the boat is supposed to be tied. This dock is on its last leg. Yet another casualty in the making.
Hell, it's barely tethered to the land, but even if it was, something tells me with a big enough storm, the dock would be gone.
How is this okay?
Don't they have another dock that we can use?
Mallory, put your big girl panties on and stop bitching.
You've already been labeled a princess. Give this man more ammunition, and he’ll blow up the entire place.
It's time to take care of business.
That's why I'm here.
Not to complain.
Not to fight.
But I'd sure like to wipe the smug-ass smirk off Paxton Ramsey's face.
That would be a bonus.
I practically jump off the boat and dash across the dock until I’m back on flat ground.
“Don't worry, princess, I got your bag,” Paxton yells.
Shit. In my mad dash to get off, I forgot about my stuff. Now I really do look like the princess he’s pegged me as.
I cannot win at this point.
There's no way I'm not going back. I quickly truck it across the warped dock until I'm standing right across the little exposed bit of water. I don't step back onto the boat, but I lift my hands up and signal for him to pass me my bag.
He shakes his head and shoots me a look that clearly tells me he's not going to do that.
Instead, he has my bag in one hand, and in the other, he has his.
“Go back on land,” he says. “I have it handled.”
I don't want to obey him, but the truth is, looking down at the wobbly wood and the sound it makes under my feet, I'm not sure it can maintain my weight. Let alone Paxton and mine simultaneously. What should be a rich, dark wood is weathered from years of abuse.
Rather than argue, I heed his suggestion and backtrack to safe ground.
He steps out of the boat, crossing the space in two large steps, not bothering to look at me as he passes.
“Come on. They expected us hours ago.” Paxton is halfway down the path, leaving me to practically sprint to catch up.
I'm not sure how much time has passed. We've walked in complete silence. I focused on trying to keep up with his long strides, practically panting next to him.
Note to self: The gym is calling.
We make it to a clearing, and that's when I see a group of people sitting around a fire.
What I don't see is equipment, lodging, or any of the modern luxuries that most of these people are accustomed to.
This is so much worse than I thought.
8
Paxton
@Stargossip: Our sources say sparks are flying, and they aren't the butterfly-inducing type. Things are heated on the set of Twisted Lily. Who do you think will bail first?
@starstruck: Teagan . . . obvs!
@Deathtothesystem: They're all divas. Who cares?
What the fuck.
What the actual fuck?
This place isn't suitable for farm animals, let alone people.
I'm beginning to see that Brad's phone call was justified. For once in his miserable life, his concerns are valid.
I think he downplayed the severity of the island on purpose because had I realized what I was walking into, I might've told him to go fuck himself. I'm young enough, at only thirty-three, to find another career.
This place is a disaster.
From the boat to the dock, to the freaking path here, the place is a shithole.
Hell, even this makeshift setup in the middle of the grass where everyone is gathered is likely to go up in flames. The grass is dead and ripe for catching fire. There's no question that this place is unsafe.
One of the things about Stefan, the director, is that he's a nutcase. He prefers primitive locations that he feels bring out the best in the actors. I call bullshit.
The fact that he's even doing this project is a miracle, but that doesn't excuse this mess.
“Come on. Let's go find Stefan,” I call over my shoulder to Mallory.
Surprisingly, she doesn't argue with me. She follows with no question as I lug around our bags in search of the reclusive director.
We walk through the crowd sitting around the campfire, and they don't so much as notice us. They're a lively bunch, probably all drunk.
There's not much else to do in these parts, so it would seem.
Dusk is settling over the island, and I realize how lucky we were to fix the boat in such a short amount of time. If night had fallen, we would've been stuck out there.
This place is very secluded.
Who even knows what provisions they have? I even question if help would've arrived. I'm not sure Mallory wouldn't have lost her mind if she had been told she had to sleep on the boat. She almost didn't get on the thing to begin with.
