I can tell that he’s already nervous-sweating, and the sun hasn’t even hit the horizon yet.
“Jinx!” He waves as if we’re long-lost friends instead of two people who couldn’t agree on what constituted reasonable toilet paper expenditures. “The place looks amazing! Really, really amazing. You’ve done such a great job with the, uh, the decorations and the?—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Let’s skip the part where you pretend we’re friends and jump straight to the part where you explain what you’re really doing here.”
“Getting married.” He says it like a question, which pretty much sums up our entire relationship.
“At my resort, Erwin. You’re getting married atmyresort. On an island, I moved to specifically to get away from you and your spreadsheet-based approach to human emotion.”
His face does that thing where it tries to look wounded but mostly looks constipated. “That’s not entirely fair?—”
“You’re making me host your wedding to another woman. Fair left the building about the same time our marriage did.”
Ruby is desperately trying not to laugh, and she’s failing spectacularly.
“I thought you’d appreciate the business,” Erwin growls. “And Candy really wanted the whole real-deal tropical wedding experience?—”
“Oh, I’m sure she did,” I say with a frown. “Nothing says real-deal like having your groom’s ex-wife arrange the flowers.”
“You know that’s not what this is about. This is about my good fortune of finding love again. This is about?—”
“Erwin.” I cut him off before he could babble himself into a medical emergency. “Where’s your fiancée?” I know for a fact her name is Candy Tassels, but I don’t have it in me to say it in the event I end up invoking all sorts of strippers far and wide.
The bottom line is that they booked a bunch of rooms, and the resort could use the business. And now I’ve got a job to do. A dirty job, but nonetheless.
“She’s coming,” he assures me. “She had to finish a livestream about, um, wedding day skincare routines? Or maybe it was about the spiritual benefits of destination weddings? I honestly can’t keep track of her content calendar.”
Ruby and Lani exchange a look that could communicate entire novels—novels where homicide is the top priority. Or maybe it’s just me who has homicide on her mind. But knowing my two island besties, we are so on the same homicidal wavelength.
A sleek black SUV pulls up to the circular drive of the main entrance, and out steps a vision in white that makes my sundress feel as if it were assembled from chicken feathers and a prayer. A woman—a very young,youngwoman—who I assume is Candy unfolds herself from the passenger seat like she’s posing for the paparazzi. Her platinum blonde hair is flowing in perfect beach waves despite the humidity, her spray tan is flawlessly even, and she has on a flowing white maxi dress that could double as a wedding dress. And well, she’s got a set of knockers on her that could double asbowling balls. Scratch that,basketballs. Okay, wait, the closer she gets, I can clearly see that beach balls are the best representatives here.
And oddly enough, she’s carrying a glowing ring light—the circular kind influencers point at themselves—like it’s her most prized possession. Because of course she is. And it’s currently illuminated.
“Babe!” Candy calls to Erwin, shifting the ring light without breaking her smile. “This place is so adorably Hawaiian! My followers are going to absolutely die for this content!”
Here we go again. Another influencer on the hunt for authenticity. Newsflash, the last one didn’t fare too well.
And here’s hoping the Grim Reaper doesn’t come back for a repeat performance.
I give my ex the side-eye.
On second thought…
Candy air-kisses Erwin, most likely to avoid somehow disturbing her glossy red lips, then turns to me with a smile bright enough to be weaponized.
“You must be Jinx! Erwin has told me so much about you. Well, not that much, but enough to know you’ve got crazy red hair and you’re going to make our special day absolutely perfect!” Her voice has a particular cadence that makes everything sound like a question while being aggressively upbeat. “Or did he say vengeful?” She looks confused for a moment.
I shoot Erwin a look. So he does know me, after all.
“Anyway,” Candy is quick to wave off the thought of a toxic week in paradise, “I’m already getting so much engagement on my wedding preparation content. Who knew paradise was so photogenic!”
Everyone, that’s who.
Before I can respond, another car arrives, and out steps a woman sporting the minimalist but chic look. She has sleek black hair cut in a razor-sharp bob, designer sunglasses, and an all-black ensemble that screams I’m too sophisticated for your tropical nonsense. She’s a striking woman who looks like she might have both Hawaiian and Caucasian features, but there’s something about her expression that suggests she finds most of the world beneath her standards.
“Oh, there’s Alana!” Candy bounces with excitement, and I mean bounces, while still clutching her ring light. “Jinx, you absolutely have to meet my business manager! She’s the brains behind my entire brand strategy.”
The woman approaches with a confident stride that demands people move out of her way. When she reaches our little group, she removes her sunglasses and hisses.
