Her scarlet dress is doing absolutely nothing to help matters, and she’s angled herself just enough that anyone within a ten-foot radius can’t help but notice.
Koa, to his credit, remains professionally immobile—hands loose at his sides, expression unreadable, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s guarding a perimeter instead of fending off an advance.
Halea leans in again, speaking low, one manicured finger tracing an entirely unnecessary path along his chest as if she’s making a point only she understands. His jaw tightens, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to be reacting otherwise.
Nevertheless, I grind my teeth at the sight.
She’s not flirting anymore. She’s conducting a siege.
“Oh, this should be good,” Ruby says, following my gaze.
“I don’t see anything good about it.”
We watch as Halea presses her lips to his ear and whispers something that makes him look like he’s calculating the distance to the next island. Her laugh carries across the sand—a throaty sound that can be heard in Poipu.
“I’m going to throw myself into the ocean,” I mutter. “And I’m talking about the deep end.”
“Your jealousy is showing again,” Ruby points out, stealing another shrimp from her plate.
“I’m not jealous. I’m sick to my stomach.”
“Same thing in this case,” she replies, watching as Halea somehow manages to stand even closer to Koa without technically climbing him like a tree.Yet.
I force myself to look away and nearly collide with Alana, who’s appeared beside us with the silent efficiency of a corporate assassin.
“Ms. Jewel,” she says, her smile as warm as a glacier in January. “I wanted to discuss some adjustments to the cultural elements for tomorrow’s ceremony.”
“It’s Ms. Julep,” I correct her without enthusiasm, mostly because I’m no longer emotionally invested in that surname. “What adjustments can I help you with?”
Alana exhales hard because clearly, I’ve already disappointed her. She scans the setup again and purses her lips.
“Some of the visuals are working against us,” she says flatly. “There’s too much texture. Too much history. It distracts from the narrative we’re trying to sell.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“Effortless fantasy,” she replies. “Clean lines. Soft lighting. Something aspirational without asking the audience to think too hard about where they are.”
I nod slowly. “So… again, remove anything that reminds people this place has an identity.”
Her smile is thin. “I’d phrase it asstreamlining the experience.”
Ruby makes a sound that might be a cough or might be the beginning of homicidal rage. “How thoughtful of you to consider the feelings of people who don’t understand the culture of the place they’re visiting.”
Alana’s smile doesn’t waver. “Brand management requires strategic thinking about audience demographics and engagement metrics. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Ruby says sweetly. “I understand that you’re?—”
“Ruby,” I interrupt before she can finish that sentence with words that might get us sued. “I think Lani needs help in the kitchen.”
Ruby gives me a look that promises we’ll discuss this later, then heads toward the main building with a purposeful stride that guarantees innocent vegetables are going to suffer.
Alana watches her go before turning back to me. “I’m glad we can have a professional conversation about this. Wedding content is crucial for Candy’s brand expansion into the matrimony market. We need to reposition the tiki torches. There are far too many in one shot. It’s reading tourist brochure, not aspirational lifestyle. And we need to move that table brimming with leis. It looks ridiculously excessive.”
“As in too many leis?” I blink at her, and she nods. “This is Hawaii. We invented the lei. What’s next, you going to tell me to get rid of the ocean because it’s too wet?”
Alana slides her sunglasses down just long enough to glare. “Your sarcasm doesn’t photograph well.”
“Neither does Erwin,” I shoot back.
