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I smile at her and wonder if everyone in this town is going to be so damn perky. I’m not sure my jaded L.A. heart’s going to survive all this small-town goodness for two whole months.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Is there a coffee shop around here within walking distance? And a restaurant? I don’t have a car.”
“For sure. Tranquili-tea is right across the street. And The Wild Shrimp’s not too far away, either. I can also arrange a bike rental if you’d like.”
“Like a motorized bike?” I smooth my hair over my shoulder, trying to tame the frizz situation, courtesy of the thousand-percent humidity.
“Haha, no. Just a regular bike. That you pedal.”
“Oh. Um, I might take you up on that, I guess. Let me think about it.”
“No problem. Just let me know!” She gives me a wide, friendly smile. “Do you need any help with your luggage?”
“I can get it. Thanks.” I head toward the wide staircase, hauling my oversized bag up the stairs one at a time.
I probably should have packed lighter. Clearly, this is a low-budget movie; I don’t even have a personal assistant.
Coming to the door marked ‘The Nutcracker Suite,’ I fit the key in the lock and push into the room. It’s a nice enough space, light and bright, with a queen-sized poster bed sitting in the center of the room. The wallpaper’s dotted with tiny nutcrackers dressed in red and gold, and the floor’s a dark planked wood. A picture window sits opposite the bed, with white shutters. I pull the shutters open, revealing a view of the street below. From here, I can see Tranquili-tea, along with several nearby shops. Beyond that, off in the distance, is the beach.
I set my suitcase off to the side and check out the bathroom. It’s tiny, but private and functional, with an all-white bathtub-shower combo and vintage black-and-white penny tile. There’s a pedestal sink, an oval mirror, and a toilet. Not exactly spa-like, but good enough, I suppose.
My cell buzzes and I fish through my satchel. “Hello?”
“How’s Florida?” Arielle purrs down the line, and I sigh.
“Hot.”
The weather and the golf cart driver.
Not that I’m interested, given everything going on in my personal life at the moment.
“It’s the Florida Keys in June. What did you expect?” she quips, and I can practically see her eye roll through the phone. “Listen, Ivy—I know this isn’t your ideal set-up. But with all the shit with Luca and your divorce, getting out of L.A. and keeping a low profile is probably the best thing you can do right now. The last thing you need is paparazzi stalking you down Rodeo Drive. Candy Cane Key is so remote you can disappear for a while. We can control the narrative.”
“But I’m not in the wrong here, Arielle. Luca’s the asshole who cheated on me. With a freaking twenty-year-old, no less. That’s the damn narrative—there’s nothing to control. It’s the truth.”
“I get it, I do.”Smack, smack, smack,as Ari chomps on her ever-present sugar-free gum, her go-to weight-loss trick. “But you know the media. Always sniffing around for a story. This way, you’re guaranteed they won’t get one.”
A tight knot twists in my gut. She’s right, but it still pisses me off.
I wish I never met Luca Franzino, let alone married the jerk. Adding insult to injury, his career’s finally heating up, and I can barely snag a made-for-TV movie.
Sometimes, I really hate Hollywood. The double-standards and injustice of it all irk me to no end.
I heave a heavy sigh. “You’re right about that. You know they don’t even have Uber here? I got a ride into town in a golf cart.”
“Cute!” Arielle clucks. “I love that. Take lots of pics for your Insta. We can do a montage later. For now, let’s lay low though.”
“Fine.”
“Remember—try to be as easygoing and positive as you can be. I had to pull some major strings to get you this gig.”
I stare out the window, wondering how exactly my life went so sideways. Five years ago, I was at the top of my game, blissfully in love with Luca and so busy making movies I almost had a breakdown.
Now, I’m single and—if I’m being honest—more than a little heartbroken. Kind of tough to be a convincing heroine in a romance movie when I don’t even believe in love.
“Ivy? You there?”
I bat a hot tear away, pissed at myself for caring about Luca the dick. “Yes. I get it. I’ll be on my best behavior. But Ari?”
