Jasmine:Very worried about money problems. Wants a divorce.
Inner-G:Collects secrets through ritualized “purges” into a conch shell outfitted with a recording device. Doesn’t allow contact with outside world while on the island except through a landline that I haven’t seen. No alcohol (suspicious). Everyone is too nice, and there is too much yoga. Why is everything so vague? Very culty.
Wildcard:Amanda Duvall has been to this resort. Everyone knew her. If the president was involved in her death, someone might want justice and or revenge.
She hit send.
Now, bath time! There was a luxury bathtub and a buffet of free products to enjoy. Gabby had never turned down a Costco sample or a free hotel shampoo, and she wasn’t about to let anything at Inner-G go to waste. She dumped about a gallon of Inner Beauty products into the bath and turned the water to hot.
A tiny refrigerator on the counter was filled with fresh producefor facials, which seemed like overkill. Gabby barely ever sliced produce to put on the dinner table, let alone put on her face. There were cucumbers and avocados, a jar of manuka honey, coconut oil, and the ever-present G-shots.
The hair guacamole directions were in a gilded frame on the counter.Hello beautiful. Mix the avocado and honey, work through hair, and let sit for 10–20 minutes for soft, shiny mermaid tresses.
Achieving inner beauty was going to be a mess. But if there was ever a time to invest in her appearance, it was her pretend wedding week. Would Markus run his fingers through her hair if she conditioned it? The look on his face when he saw her in yoga pants—she wanted to see that look all the time. She cut the avocado in half and squeezed it into a bowl with the honey and mashed it. Funny considering she never even made guacamole at home. It was always an extra step that she just didn’t have the energy for.
Add cayenne pepper to boost the shine and activate other products. Capsaicin is an aphrodisiac.
Maybe Jasmine was just messing with her, but maybe not.
While she was fighting one hard chunk of avocado that kept sliding up the sides of the bowl instead of submitting to its fate, an avocado pit rolled onto the floor and did its lopsided roll to the other side of the room. Green slime and peels all over the counter reminded her why she never made this stuff on a weeknight.
Markus knocked on the door.
“Umm.” Gabby assessed the situation. “I’ve made a mess in here.”
Concern in his voice. “Are you telling me you blew up the toilet?”
“No!” She laughed. “I was trying to use Jasmine’s products and… Do you have any chips?”
“Chips?” Markus opened the door hesitantly to find Gabby crisscross applesauce on the floor of the bathroom, wearing a fluffy bathrobe and slathered in green tea face mask.
Like she’d just invited him to a party, she held the bowl out and said, “I made guacamole.”
“Great, but…” She could hear the question in his voice.
“It’s supposed to be a hair masque, but I haven’t had anything but vegetables and juice today, and matcha, oh, and one bite of our wedding cake.” Matter-of-factly, she reported, “We’re having chocolate strawberry.”
“Sounds delicious.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry too.”
It was hard going straight from the babushka diet to mostly raw food.
“Wait here,” he said. Less than a minute later, Markus returned with four bags of airplane pretzels.
“Markus,” Gabby said. “I have never been so turned on in my life.”
He dangled them from an extended arm. “You want?”
“Oh yes. Truce?” she asked.
“Are we fighting?” he asked.
That was the most male thing she’d ever heard. “We’re not fighting, but we’re not entirely cool either, are we? I mean…”
He sat down next to her and leaned against the wall. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
She nodded. “It’s been—”
“Weird,” he finished.
