“Can we not?” Jean wanted to scream every time the chorus started up in her head. That entire (irresistible, inescapable, incredibly sultry) song was about longing for the one who got away, who spent the titular “Lost Weekend” taking you places your lady parts had never seen and then leaving you high and dry. Everyone who heard it came away hot and bothered. It was an anthem to sex—a banger about banging.
And apparently also a playbook for the guy she never would have pegged as being a player. This was the same Charlie who had strongly implied he needed Jean to show him the ropes in the bedroom. Only not actual ropes, because she hadn’t wanted to throw him in at the deep end.
“Sorry! I just have so many questions.” Hildy mimed shoving something back into her mouth.
“You and me both.” Had he taken up with Jean because she was so very available, the human equivalent of extra towels? Did he always ghost the people he slept with, or was she not exciting enough for a guy who’d dated one of the most famous women in the world? Maybe it was because she’d fessed up to her less-than-glamorouspast. Recreational slumming was one thing, but a semidelinquent with a family legacy of fried snacks? No thank you!
“Listen.” Leaning forward, Hildy put a hand on Jean’s knee. “I know it hurts, but I promise you won’t always feel this way. Is it your fault you fell for someone who turned out to be a dirtbag? No. So you pick up the pieces and move on.”
Easy for someone with a trust fund to say. “Move on where? My waitstaff gigs have fully dried up, my two best friends are busy with their own lives, I can barely afford my shithole apartment as it is.”
“I’m talkingemotionally.”
“If you tell me my heart is a forge and that forge is on fire, I can’t be responsible for my actions.” They’d be shoveling sidewalks in hell before Jean was ready to take advice from an Adriana Asebedo lyric.
“Please. I’m talking about stepping past the sads into an exciting new phase.”
“I know I seem vulnerable right now, but I’m not in the market for nutritional supplements or a life coach. See ‘my ass is broke,’ above.”
“Ha! Why should you change? He’s the one who did you wrong.”
Jean managed to lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. This was true, but not particularly useful information.
“I’m talking about real satisfaction.”
“I don’t have money for sex toys, either.”
Hildy shook her head. “TMI. But also, take it from me. The best medicine is revenge.”
The overcooked noodle that was Jean’s spine snapped back into a semblance of its former shape. No wonder she felt so terrible, sitting there like roadkill. Jean was not that person. She didn’t let anyone walk all over her. If Charlie thought he could play her for a fool, he’d picked the wrong woman to use and then cast aside like… a damp towel.
A flickering heat started low in her chest. “Are we talking Saran Wrap on the toilet? Swap his cold brew for soy sauce? Dead fish under the bed?”
“Hold that thought. I’m getting a notification.” Hildy extracted a phone from the pocket of her linen pants. Her face fell. “Duck on a stick! Those bastards.”
“What?”
“Someone beat us to the punch.”
“Sabotaging his room?”
“Breaking the story.” She turned the screen so Jean could read the headlineBeer Baron Goes Beach Bumin acid green on a black backdrop. “I need to make a quick call. This was so much easier when I had my own photographer.” Hildy skimmed through her contacts, holding the phone to her ear as she waited for it to connect.
“Who can we get to the Honolulu airport right away? No, not tomorrow. Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. We don’t have time to run it up the chain, but that’s okay because I know what I’m doing—oh great.” She lowered the phone, rolling her eyes at Jean. “They put me on hold. Andclick.” Hildy ended the call. “Screw that. We’ll go ourselves.”
“Go… to the airport?” Jean had a feeling she’d still be lost even if she’d heard both sides of the conversation. Weren’t they going to confront Charlie? Or at least make it very hard for him to ignore Jean’s existence?
“Oh yeah,” Hildy said, as if it were obvious. “He’ll make his escape ASAP, if he isn’t already gone.”
“Gone as in checked out?”
“For sure. My money says he’ll get off the island before shit really hits the fan. The question is where he’s going to ground.” She narrowed her eyes at Jean. “You have insider knowledge. Where do you think he’ll hole up?”
Jean could only shrug. She knew Charlie exclusively withinthe context of his cottage—a fact that had been made abundantly clear tonight.
“That’s okay.” Hildy couldn’t hide the pity in her eyes—or the disappointment. “Good riddance, right?”
She was clearly trying not to rub Jean’s nose in her own uselessness. How much more pathetic could Jean get? It wasn’t like her to have zero ideas. Surely there was something she could…
