Page 5

When he had gone and the serenity of her afternoon resumed, Dillon lay on the tile floor, sharing the space with the centipedes and geckos. She worked a massage gun deep into the muscles of her calves, still annoyed by Kyle’s intrusion. It was just like him, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Why he’d had to start some unnecessary drama with that stupid girl—he just never could manage to keep his mouth shut.

Tossing the percussion gun aside, she hoisted herself onto the bed, and picked up the phone receiver.

Fuck Kyle and his meddling.

She dialed the front desk, fishing out a pen and notepad from the bedside table drawer.

The woman who answered greeted her with too much enthusiasm. She was a big fan, she’d told her the day she checked in, offering her a coy smile.A big, big fan.

Dillon schooled her voice into what she hoped was something equally chipper.

“Hiya, Mikala! Can you do me a favor?”

Scene 3

The shrill blast of the bedside telephone made me jump, losing my grip on the mug of green tea I’d brewed, shattering the cup and its contents across the kitchenette tile. I stood stunned, staring at the mess I’d managed to make, before the phone rang again, causing me to wince once more.

I’d been on edge all afternoon—ever since my encounter with that prick by the pool—and my nerves were running full tilt. No one I knew would call me on the hotel landline. Dani and Tom were on their island-hopping honeymoon, Dani’s mother, Darlene, had blessedly left for California earlier in the morning, and anyone back home would reach me by my cell. I had extended my stay two nights in Hana, determined to use the extra days to unwind before climbing back onto the Hollywood hamster wheel.

The phone continued to ring as I considered my options:

1. Yank the spiral phone line from the wall.

2. Lock myself in the bathroom and take a second shower, hoping the caller would grow tired of trying to reach me by the time I reconditioned my hair.

3. Pick it up and deal with whatever was on the other end of the line.

I realized—at twenty-three years old—there was really only one option that made sense. And so, treading carefully acrossthe debris of tea and glass, I seized the coiled cord and gave it a solid jerk. It didn’t budge. The phone kept ringing.

Shit.

Considering the last thing my hair needed in the island humidity was another round of conditioning, I resigned myself to pulling on my big girl panties and swiped the receiver from its cradle.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Kameryn?”

It wasn’t like the voice was overly familiar. I’d only heard it once before, and mainly through a plethora of curses and insults flung my direction. But I recognized it immediately all the same. Given that her boyfriend had spent five solid minutes threatening me as I toweled off from my morning swim, it was fair to say the collision on the highway a couple days earlier hadn’t been far from my mind.

My first instinct was to hang up. I wasn’t up for another round of you’re-a-fucking-loser-and-screwed-up-some-silly-race from her after I’d just gotten it from him. However, I also didn’t want to make things worse than they already were—not when I was aware of all the publicity I was about to receive. It would be better if I could get this handled on the down low. Which meant keeping my auto insurance out of it.

“Look,” I started, deciding I’d try Dani’s approach at life, “I’m really sorry about the other night. I get it—it’s an expensive bike. Like I said, I’ll buy you a new one.” The words hurt even as they left my mouth. I’d looked up racing bikes after the confrontation at the pool, and the nicer ones did indeed cost as much as my second-hand car. I didn’t have that kind of money on hand. Until I got my first advance forSand Seekers, I was living on a shoestring budget, so if I had to fork over cash, I’d literally have to sell my car. But fine. Whatever it took to put this in my rearview mirror.

“A new bike, yeah?”

She sounded more amused than anything else, which I quickly took an affront to. There was nothing about this I found funny. Especially if I was soon to be taking public transportation to the studio. Wouldn’t that just be the way to start my Hollywood blockbuster career?

And arriving now, Kameryn Kingsbury, ten minutes late off the Red Line subway.

“Yeah. But if that isn’t enough, and you’re wanting to press charges, I really feel it’s best if you spoke directly to my attorney.” The attorney I didn’t have. And the one Idefinitelycould not afford.

She laughed, and I dug my toenails into the throw rug running alongside the bed.

“Is that an American thing, or just a Hollywood thing—threatening to call your solicitor?”

Fuck me. So she knew I came from Hollywood. She’d already been digging around.

“If you’re just calling to—”