Escape (Billionaire Island)
I clear my throat. “How long have you been tending bar?”
“Here? Just since the colony opened a few months ago. Before that I was at a resort on Fiji.”
“And you’re from Honolulu?”
He nods. “Born and raised. My mom’s a native, and my dad’s a fighter pilot from LA.”
LA. I don’t mean to react, but my facial muscles tighten.
“Where are you from, pretty girl?”
“Portland,” I lie. I don’t want anyone to know I’m from LA. I’ve escaped LA, at least for now.
“Portland, Oregon?”
“You know another one?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Yes. Portland, Oregon.”
“Tell me about the Pacific Northwest. I’ve only been to California. And to Florida once when I was a kid.”
“You didn’t travel much outside the islands?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m an island boy through and through. We traveled to Cali once in a blue moon to see my dad’s folks, but mostly they came to us. People love to visit Hawaii, for some reason.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Especially if all the men look like him.
“Big tourist trap if you ask me. Once you do Diamond Head and the Pearl Harbor thing, there’s not much to do except lounge on the beach.”
“I think that’s probably the point,” I say.
“I suppose. When you grow up there, it’s not nearly as exciting.”
“Really? If that’s the case, why are you working on another beach?”
He laughs. Really laughs this time, like I’ve just said something hilarious during a standup routine.
“You got me, pretty girl. I’m a beach bum through and through.”
“So you can’t fault others for wanting just a taste of that life, then.”
“I don’t. It’s just… I don’t know. Every once in a while I wonder if there’s more out there for me, you know?”
“Why bartending?” I ask.
“Why not?”
I shake my head and swallow another drink of water. “Are you ever serious about anything?”
“Sure I am. I seriously think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen since I got here. And this is a tropical island, pretty girl. I may have only been here for a few months, but gorgeous women are at a premium.”
“At an art colony?”
“Sure. Some of the artists. And the women who work here. I swear Roy Wolfe only hired good-looking people.”
“I think you just gave yourself a huge compliment,” I can’t help saying.
“I’m talking about the female population,” he says, “but hey, if the shoe fits.”
I laugh. Truly laugh.
And I realize Keanu Scotty Scott is the first person who’s made me do that in…how long?
A long time.
A long, long time.
4
Scotty
Nemo drops off our order.
“Dig in,” I say to Em.
Already she’s Em to me. Em or pretty girl. Emily is too stuffed-shirt a name for this dark-haired beauty. She’s Em, the goddess of art. Is there even a goddess of art? Probably somewhere in Greek or Roman mythology, but I don’t have a clue.
Only one goddess in front of me. Em.
She picks up her burger carefully and takes a bite. “Oh!” Grease runs down her chin.
“Forgot to mention. These are the juiciest burgers ever.”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “I see.”
“Burgers are an American thing,” I say, “but I swear Diego does them better than anyone in the states. Not that I’d know, since I haven’t been there in forever.”
“Diego?”
“He’s the chef here.”
“Of all the food?”
“Just this place. Burgers are his specialty. He’s a master.”
“I’ll say.” She swallows and wipes her lips again. “This is delicious.”
I take a bite of my Scotty classic. To make Em feel better, I let the juice and egg yolk drip from my lips a little before I clear it away with my napkin. Honestly, the dripping’s the best part. Seems to make me enjoy the food even more.
“Tell me your life story,” I say.
She flinches a little. Only a little, but I notice. I notice everything about her. The curve of her jawline. The one freckle on her upper lip. The way her left eye squints slightly when she smiles.
“Not much to tell,” she finally replies.
“How did you end up here?”
“I’m an artist. This is what I do.”
“I get that, but most people pay a lot to be here. You must be a successful artist.”
She flinches just a little once more. Then, “I do okay.”
“Yeah?”
“But I’m not paying to be here,” she says. “A fellowship opened up, and I got it.”
“Good for you! You must be uber talented, then.”
She takes another bite of her burger and chews. And chews. The meat and bun must be masticated into mash by the time she swallows. “Like I said, I do okay.”
I swallow a drink of my water. “What are you hiding, pretty girl?”
“Nothing,” she says way too quickly, dropping her gaze.
Nothing my ass. But I won’t push it. Not my business. I don’t have to know her life story to get her in the sack.
Except that I want to know her life story. Already I’m feeling a connection that’s new to me. New…and a little frightening. But I’ve never been one to back down in the face of fear.