CHAPTER ONE
Maya
“No way I’m vacationing with them,” Dad says, looking a little pale as he stares at the groomsmen hollering and banging their fists like a bunch of gorillas in the airport bar. “It’s seven thirty in the morning and they’re already doing shots.”
I’m sitting at the gate with my parents, watching as a pit forms in my stomach as the groom stands on a wobbly barstool and chugs a full mug of beer. His convict buddies yell excessively loud as he holds the empty mug upside down over his head and then hops down. My cousin Leah, the bride, wraps her arms around his tattooed neck and kisses him like chugging a beer in an airport at seven thirty in the morning is something to be celebrated and proud about.
“Oh my god,” Dad says, dropping his head into his hands. “This is going to be hell.”
My mother is usually the optimistic counterweight to my dad’s cynicism, but even she looks horrified.
I’m just sitting on the seat between them with my legscrossed, nibbling on a chocolate chip muffin. I’ve found that it’s best to keep to myself when my dad is annoyed and going off on one of his tangents.
“Where did Leah even find this guy?” Dad asks with a groan. “The prison parking lot?”
“They met at work,” Mom says.
“He has a job?” Dad says, shocked. “How do you even get a job with all of those face tattoos?”
“I didn’t say it was agoodjob,” Mom corrects as she stares at the rowdy group with her nose scrunched up.
See, Leah has always been a little trashy and she’s always liked her guys the same way. Over the years, we’ve had to deal with all of her ‘interesting’ boyfriends. There was Mick who got kicked out of my grandmother’s house on Christmas for yelling at her dog, and Tommy who told my aunt that she had ‘nice tits for an old broad,’ and now she’s getting married to Taint.
Yes, Taint.
I’m not sure if it’s a nickname or an abbreviation or what, but it’s the only name I’ve ever heard. It was even on their wedding invitation. Well, it was an email, not an actual invitation. That would have been too classy for the bride and groom.
We got invited to the last minute tropical wedding on Isla Verdanza, which is located in the Caribbean Sea between Antigua and Guadeloupe, and we all wanted to say no, but Aunt Jennifer, the bride’s mother, guilted us into going.
I mean, it should be good, right? Palm trees and tropical drinks and soft sand and all-you-can-eat food—it should be a dream come true. But with Leah, there’s always a catch.
And I’m pretty sure the catch is our resort—The Breezy Winds Resort & Casino.
The price tag tipped us off. $449 for the week.
The abundance of one-star reviews confirmed it.
This place is going to suuuuuucccckkk.
“I can’t believe we got dragged into this,” Dad says,pulling out his phone. “Look at this. This guy says there were bed bugs in his room.”
“Will you stop reading those reviews?” Mom says with a sigh.
“Breezy Winds,” Dad says. “People call it Sleazy Sins because it’s full of people likethat.”
He points to the airport bar where Leah is now getting in on the chugging. Her friends are hollering like people who are a little too old to be hanging around at the college keg party as she chugs a huge beer, dribbling half of it onto her chest.
“How can so many people think that a face tattoo is a good idea?” Dad says, shaking his head. Now, he’s looking at them like a nature observer who stumbled across a troop of baboons.
There are a lot of face tattoos at that bar. So many face tattoos. For the record, my family has no face tattoos.
“What does that guy have on his forehead?” Dad asks, squinting his eyes.
“It saysPeace or Deathwith barbed wire wrapped around it,” I tell him between bites of my muffin.
“Peace or Death?” Dad says, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
He sighs as he turns back to his phone. “This person says there was a fistfight in the lobby when they arrived. What kind of shithole place is she forcing us to go to?”
