AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Luckily, this particular boat pulled up to a dock, then secured its lines and dropped a ramp to allow its guests to walk onto dry land. It was just past five in the afternoon, and the sun was especially orange and hot across Oriana’s shoulders. Her large Chanel sunglasses protected her eyes, but she felt her forehead begin to crisp, despite her sunscreen.
It wasn’t as simple to get a taxi here on Ko Tao as it had been at the airport. It seemed most people’s form of transportation was a motorbike, and Oriana was too frightened to drive one herself. Besides, she couldn’t exactly strap her suitcase to the back of one, could she?
Turns out, it was possible. A man with a motorcycle flagged her down, read Brea’s address on her cell phone, nodded, strapped her suitcase to the back of his motorcycle, and then explained the pay was 100 BAT, which was the equivalent of three dollars. Oriana said it was a deal.
Oriana hadn’t been on a motorcycle since she’d been a teenager. Reese had borrowed one from a friend and taken her all over the island. Most of that time, she’d filled Reese’s ears with her screams, and he’d refused to take her again. She hadn’t minded.
So many years later— approximately thirty-three, Oriana had more nerve and confidence. She held loosely to the Thai man’s torso and felt herself be tugged forward, down both paved streets and dirt streets, past waving palm trees, alongside white sandy beaches. For a little while, she allowed herself to pretend she was on a solo vacation, during which she would do some real, solid “thinking.” She’d never had time to go on a vacation by herself before. She’d always wondered if people who did that got lonely.
About twenty minutes after he’d picked her up, the Thai man stalled at the edge of a very sandy path.
“Can’t go more,” the man explained to her.
“Oh. Um?” Oriana spun with confusion as the Thai man pointed down the path and said, “There.”
Behind the swaying palm trees, toward the shimmering ocean, was a stretch of shacks. None of them were especially beautiful, but they were taken care of, their rooftops thatched, their porches clean. Oriana slid off the motorcycle as the driver removed her suitcase and placed it beside her. With a jump, she remembered to pay him and passed him two hundred BAT rather than one hundred. He was pleased but confused.
The suitcase was quite difficult to wheel through the sand. Oriana did her best to tug it as sweat dripped down her neck, through her armpits, and down her back. When she reached the edge of the dirt path, she paused to gasp for air. The sun seemed to taunt her, refusing to grow colder or reach the horizon.How did people live like this?The humidity made the air milkshake thick.
And as she cursed the air, the heat, her useless limbs, and her inability to go forward, a figure burst from one of the porches and stood on the steps, staring down at her. The figure had long salt and pepper hair, a muscular frame, a face without makeup, and open, honest eyes.
Oriana would have recognized Brea anywhere.
But she hadn’t imagined seeing her again would feel like a knife through her stomach.
For a moment, Oriana and Brea stared at one another, shocked. It was clear Brea hadn’t expected Oriana to come, that Brea hadn’t caught onto Rita’s tracking. Oriana expected Brea to say something, to demand what she was doing there, or— worse— to tell her to get off her property.
But instead, Brea jumped down the steps and ran toward Oriana, closing the distance between them. And before Oriana could think of anything to say or any excuse, Brea threw her arms around Oriana, pulled her close, and wept into her shoulder.
ChapterFifteen
October 1998
With Oriana off with Nick at yet another exclusive nightclub, and Valerie and Kenny back at home, Brea found herself at that same bar with Neal. It had been a week since they’d met one another, a gruesome week of Kenny’s illness, doctors’ appointments, glitzy meetings with Oriana’s clients, and art, so much art that, to Brea, looked heinous and not worthy of anyone’s time.
“You should see this four-million-dollar piece,” Brea said, shaking her head over a glass of beer. “I mean, Neal, it’s insane to me. It’s a few slashes of green, violet, and blue, and when this billionaire guy looks at it, he wells up with tears.”
Neal cackled, dropping his head back. “What billionaire guy?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of him. It seems like everybody has heard of him except for me.”
“Maybe I have. What’s his name?”
“Walter Billington.”
Neal almost spat out his beer with laughter. “TheWalter Billington? You’re kidding. You know him?”
“I don’t know him. I’ve been out with him a few times. He’s nice, sort of. For a rich guy.” Brea shrugged, recognizing that Neal’s eyes glowed just a little bit more than they had, that he now regarded her with more respect, if only because she’d been in the shadow of the great Walter Billington a few times.
“Nice for a rich guy.” Neal laughed again.
“Yeah. He’s cool to talk to,” Brea added. “He doesn’t ignore me like all the other rich guys we meet. Most of them just talk to Oriana, and I’m supposed to sit there and pretend I don’t exist.”
“That sounds terrible,” Neal said quietly.
Brea shrugged.
“So, now that Walter’s bought this four-million-dollar painting, do you think he’ll buy more stuff from you guys?”
