Page 20 of As a Last Resort

SAMANTHA

The morning rays were peeking in through the horizontal blinds as Ivy’s dark eyes squinted at me on my computer screen.

“Look at you. You look like you’ve seen the sun. Nice to see you finally have internet that works.”

“Austin dropped by a booster earlier.”

“Austin?” Her eyebrows perked up.

“Yes, Ivy.” My stomach tumbled. “The older brother of a childhood friend I have absolutely zero interest in. Yes, he’s cute.

No, it doesn’t matter. He’s a ferryboat captain.

Hazel eyes, but more green than brown. Shaggy blond hair.

Actually, it’s more of a light brown. And no, I won’t change my mind. ”

She smirked. “You sure?”

“We’re not all characters in a romance novel, Ivy. Moving on. What’s the temp on Glenn?”

“That’s why I needed to talk to you first. Robby busted out of the hospital. Clean bill of health. He and Glenn have been holed up talking about waterslides all morning.”

“Waterslides?” I asked.

“Apparently Glenn’s adolescence didn’t include enough of them and he’s trying to stick them everywhere he can now, including the new resort. You’ve officially been warned. Anything you want me to tee up?”

“Not yet. I dumped all the pictures I have of Rock Island into the Google Drive already, but I haven’t been able to get my hands on a lot of the financials yet. Businesses are being pretty tight-lipped.”

“You’ll get them to warm up. Schmooze them.”

“I am schmoozing them.”

“I know. But, like, SparkPug-schmooze them. Sidenote, I love the starfish on your coffee cup.”

“I never want to see another painting, statue, ceramic, or metal reproduction of a starfish in my entire life.”

“So, no sea creature theme for your new corner office decoration. Noted.”

“I’ve missed you.”

She smiled. “It’s five till nine. Let me get in there and conference you in.”

“Glenn here.” He nodded to the camera.

He always did that even though I could literally see his face on my computer screen.

They were set up around the conference room table, remnants of breakfast scattered about.

It looked like they had been there a while.

There was a huge screen on the back wall that I knew showcased my face at the moment.

“Good morning, Glenn. Robby, good to see you vertical.” He flashed his golden boy smile at half-mast. “I figured we’d jump right in and go over some of the information I’ve been able to gather so far.”

“Good plan, but we’ll show you our ideas first.” Glenn nodded to Robby.

Why did I even bother? It’d be the same buddy-buddy back-and-forth with the two of them propping each other up, Robby encouraging Glenn’s ideas, regardless of what they actually were.

I’d sit and nod my head, internally screaming at both of them while my smile tightened and froze until I felt like the Joker.

Ivy warned me, but nothing could have adequately prepared me for the monstrosity on-screen. Robby stood up and held out a three-foot-long printout of a waterslide—a neon-green hunk of plastic that looked to be over a hundred feet tall scaled down.

Glenn’s eyes brightened.

“It’s quite… bright.” How could I possibly spin something positive about this horrible idea and hold in the rising bile at the same time?

“Shoots you out going up to sixty miles an hour,” Robby said, beaming. “Would be great to erect this puppy at the main pool.”

Ivy coughed.

“It’s definitely something,” I mumbled under my breath.

Glenn nodded so hard that his brain had to be jiggling. Of course he did. They’d probably been looking at pictures of stupid waterslides for hours together as they ate breakfast, giggled like schoolgirls, and ordered matching best friend necklaces online. Ugh.

I heard shouting in the distance. Then singing. My eyes gazed across the screen looking to see who’d be singing in the conference room.

“Honeyyyy!” a woman’s voice sang through my front window. “Are you here, baby girl?”

Oh, no, no, no… It was coming from my side, not theirs.

Mom only called me that when she was good and sloshed. Last night’s off the island must have been code for binge drinking . Did I tell her I was staying at the Starfish? I couldn’t remember.

Please tell me I locked the door.

Singing drifted in through my cracked window. “… yellow polka dot bikini, that she wore for the first time today…”

Dear Lord above, if you exist, please don’t let her— My front door burst open and there she was: my mother, sporting the tiniest yellow polka dot bikini ever made, giant pink sunglasses, and a straw hat big enough to have its own zip code.

“Baby girl!” she shouted across the room throwing her arms up like she was accepting an Oscar.

I shot out of my chair and lunged for my laptop, trying to slam the screen shut, but my elbow hit my coffee first spilling it across my keyboard. I yanked my shirt down to soak up the mess, which did absolutely nothing but smear coffee all over the keys.

Mom sauntered across the Berber carpet, but tripped in slow motion before dramatically laying out on the couch beside me. “Whoa, it is a hot one out there today. I need lemonade.”

I looked back to the screen. Ivy’s eyes were wide, her hands flapping in a silent panic, miming for me to pull my shirt up.

I looked down and I had tugged my shirt so far down that I was giving the entire conference room a front-row seat to my girls.

I reached for the laptop again but Mom wedged her hand in and pried it back open.

“Your friends! Oooh, let me see!” She swatted my hand away.

“Hi there!” She waved into the camera. “Oh, look at that! I can see myself!” She puckered her lips and posed, watching herself in the little box nestled in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen. “Not too shabby.”

This couldn’t be happening. This had to be cosmic punishment—for the goldfish I forgot to feed in sixth grade, for that tinted ChapStick I accidently stole from Target, and for kissing Max under the bleachers when I was dating his brother.

And basically every other morally questionable moment of my entire life had led to this.

“Mom, I’m in the middle of a work call.”

She leaned closer to the computer and winked at the screen. “Well, you’re fun to look at.”

“Oh. Umm, okay.” Crimson creeped up Glenn’s neck.

“Oh, I didn’t mean you. You’re much too old for me. I was talking to him.” She pointed straight at Robby.

Oh my God.

“I’m so sorry, Glenn, let me give you a quick ring back.” I angled my laptop away from my mom’s face.

“No need, no need, you all get back to work ,” she slurred as she finger-quoted work like it was a joke. “But don’t work all day, you could use some color, baby girl.” She squeezed my cheeks, turned, and threw a “see you later tonight” over her shoulder.

I looked at the screen, scanning faces trying to gauge the amount of damage control I’d need to do when Glenn’s face went fire-engine red.

Ivy’s normally perfect composure slipped.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth was slack.

I looked on the screen at my little face in the bottom right-hand corner just as my mother opened my front door to leave, revealing that her tiny little yellow polka dot bikini was, in fact, a thong.

Do you know that part in a movie where the scene’s sound cuts out and it’s just an instrumental track playing over total devastation in slow motion?

This was that moment. The blood drained from my body.

The fading singing was the only sound for a solid five seconds after the screen door slammed shut behind her.

“Well, she’s certainly lively.” Robby’s voice broke the awkward silence, bringing me back to reality. “And in pretty good shape. How old is she?”

Ew.

“She’d make a great activities coordinator. Very friendly,” Ivy piped in, clearly trying to help. “But probably not the type of resort we’re really going for,” she added quickly, apology in her tone.

“The waterslide sounds great.” My voice wavered, trying to pretend the last three minutes never happened. “Let’s table it for now though and I’ll get with Robby one-on-one to chat after I’ve sent everything I’ve got. We’ll touch base again later. Anything else for me?”

“Nope, I think we’re all set here.” Glenn bolted from the room, his face the color of a plum.

Oh my God , Ivy mouthed from her chair as she got up.

I ended the call and sat there staring at the black screen, which was also ironically a representation of my soul at that moment. I closed my eyes.

Welcome home.