Authors: Traci Hohenstein
Early the next morning, Trista slipped out of Riker’s bed while he was still sleeping. Her beach house was just a short drive away in Blue Mountain Beach. Trista had bought the house as an investment when she made her first few million dollars in Hollywood. At the time, she was still speaking with her sister, Nicolette. Trista invited Nicolette to live in the home and watch over things while Trista was working in Hollywood. In the beginning, Trista would fly back to Florida during the holidays and see her family. After she had a major falling out with Nicolette, Trista didn’t come home anymore. Hurt feelings and words that couldn’t be taken back still haunted Trista.
Driving down Old Blue Mountain Beach Road, Trista smiled at the sight of the magnificent beachfront estates lining the gulf-front road. She had picked this part of the beach due to its privacy and exclusivity. It was also within walking distance to many of her favorite places. For the Health of It was her favorite juice bar and health food store, and there was Marie’s Bistro, where she could get a delicious sushi dinner, and Sally’s By The Sea, which was a gas station, deli, and sundries shop all rolled into one. Plus Sally’s had the best hamburgers on the beach.
Pulling up to her gated estate, she entered a code for the electronic gate to open. Her three-story beach villa never failed to take her breath away. It was luxurious and opulent—all three stories with stunning Gulf views from every angle. The villa had six bedrooms and eight baths, ten balconies, a lanai porch, saltwater pool with Jacuzzi, stone exterior entry, and a three-car garage, all under an 8,095-square-foot roof. The first floor showcased a balustrade parlor, media room, and wet bar in addition to two guest rooms with spa baths. A grand, circular staircase led to the second floor also with sweeping Gulf views and a great room with gourmet kitchen and dining room, which was perfect for entertaining. Her sister had one of the large bedrooms and spa bath on this level. The third floor was Trista’s favorite. It included a fitness studio, health bar, and makeup studio. Her master bedroom suite had a luxury spa bath and panoramic views of the Gulf.
Trista felt mixed emotions as she pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. She loved being at the beach, but she dreaded the thought of having to deal with her sister. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized no one was home. The garage was empty as Trista parked her convertible inside. She pulled her overnight bag out of the trunk and headed inside.
First things first. Trista took the stairs to the second level and threw her bag down on the breakfast table in the kitchen area. She popped a K-cup in the Keurig and started a cup of coffee. Taking a look around, she realized that not much had changed. The house was still as she’d left it two years ago.
Trista picked up her coffee cup and checked the refrigerator for creamer. Finding a stocked fridge, Trista added a splash of French Vanilla creamer to her coffee. She took her cup and wandered to the lanai. There was a comfy couch covered in off-white denim fabric, four matching chairs, and a chaise lounge artfully arranged on the patio. A coffee table held a large, crystal bowl stuffed with sand dollars and seashells. Trista plopped down on one of the chairs and rested her feet on the ottoman. She breathed in the fresh, salty air. With a steaming hot cup of coffee by her side, she watched the waves slowly rolling in as seagulls dove in and out of the Gulf of Mexico, searching for their breakfast. She spotted a pod of dolphins just offshore, playing in the water. Their water acrobatics never failed to thrill her. She continued to watch as the dolphins jumped and flipped down the coast. God, she didn’t realize just how much she’d missed the beach. Yeah, California had beaches but nothing compared to the beaches of the Emerald Coast.
She was lost in her thoughts of the mind-blowing sex with Riker and didn’t hear the French doors open.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Trista turned to see her sister standing behind her. Nicolette was wearing a colorful, paisley beach cover-up, flip-flops, and a baseball cap that covered her long, dark hair. Where Trista was blonde, tall, and slim, Nicolette was shorter and struggled with her weight. Trista had inherited her mother’s beautiful looks, while Nicolette looked a lot like their father. Trista knew that her sister was pretty, but her attitude made her ugly sometimes.
“This is my house. In case you forgot.”
“Why are you here?” Nicolette pulled off her cap and shook her wet hair off her shoulders.
“It’s a long story. Why don’t you have a seat?” Trista picked up her mug and took a sip of her coffee. She decided to get right to the point. “I got fired from my job.”
Nicolette’s face softened as she sighed. She sat across from Trista on the chaise lounge. “What happened?”
“They told me that the show needed to go in another direction.”
“Sorry ’bout that. But you can get another one, right?”
Trista shrugged then added, “Blake was cheating on me. It’s over.”
Nicolette looked confused. “Wait a minute. Who’s Blake?”
Trista laughed despite the uneasiness between them. “I guess it’s been a long while since we talked. Blake and I were engaged.”
“Blake is your agent, right?”
“
Was
my agent. I fired him, but not before I kicked him out. I sold the condo, packed my stuff, and headed here. I got in last night.” Trista drained the rest of her coffee. “Where were you this morning?”
“I spent the night with a girlfriend. We had a girl’s night out, and I crashed at her place.” Nicolette stood and picked up her things. “How long are you planning on staying?”
“Not sure yet. Is that a problem?”
“I guess not. It is
your
place.” Nicolette checked her watch. “Shit, I’m running late. I’ve got a sales meeting in fifteen minutes and a busy day ahead.” Nicolette waited a beat. “I’m throwing a surprise birthday party for my boyfriend, James, tonight. Here at the house.”
“Don’t worry about me, Nic. I’m planning on relaxing today and going to bed early. I won’t get in your way.”
Nicolette paused at the door. “Party starts at seven. Dress is casual. You can come if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” Trista watched as her sister left the room. It was like nothing had happened between them. Nicolette was just like their father in that way. If there was a problem, sweep it under the rug. Forget about it. Trista liked to talk things out. If she was going to stay here for a while then she needed to clear the air with her sister. But they would do that later—after the party. She hated to ruin a good party.
Trista waltzed into the Beach Peach Boutique—one of her favorite places to shop in Blue Mountain Beach. They carried all her preferred clothing brands. She loved the smell of coconut, lime, and verbena candles that the store kept lit throughout the day. A woman with an armful of clothes approached her. “Hey, I know you. From that show,
You Only Live Once
? Right? Trista Carmichael?”
Trista was used to people recognizing her on the streets of LA. Most of them never approached her though. Sometimes they took discreet photos from a distance. However, whenever she visited small towns, people were friendly and approached her with requests of autographs or photos with their cell phones.
Trista pulled a coral maxi-dress with spaghetti straps from the rack. “Yep, that’s me.”
“I can’t believe the network fired you,” the woman said, thrusting her bundle of clothes at the salesgirl who approached them. “Are you going to work on another show?”
As soon as the news broke about her dismissal from the show, and about the embarrassing breakup with Blake, her face was plastered on all the Hollywood rags, like
OK! Magazine
,
People
, and
STAR
. Trista flashed a smile at the woman. “No, I’m taking a well-needed vacation right now.”
“Can I have a picture with you?” The woman pulled out her cell phone. “My friends aren’t going to believe I ran into you! We’re here on vacation too. I never thought I would see my favorite TV star!” The woman continued to gush while Trista stood next to her and the salesgirl took a quick picture. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“Listen, hon, I wouldn’t worry about what the press is saying about you. And that fiancé you had? He’s a bad boy. I can tell just by looking at his picture in the magazine.” The woman reached in her bag and pulled out the latest copy of
In Touch
magazine, showing it to her. Trista was surprised to see herself and Blake on the cover. She tried to stay away from reading half-truths in these so-called Hollywood rags. The title screamed, “
TRISTA CARMICHAEL & BLAKE SIMMONS CALL OFF WEDDING?
” There was an insert of a smaller picture of Blake with another gorgeous, blonde woman on his arm. Trista recognized her as Melanie Sweetwater. She was another actress rumored to have slept around with more producers and directors than any other wannabe actress in the history of Hollywood. “You are much prettier than she is.”
Trista wasn’t sure how to respond to that comment. Instead she just put a smile on her face and thanked the lady for her support, handing the dress to the salesgirl after the fan-girl moment. “Can I try this on?”
“Of course. I’ll start a dressing room for you.” The salesgirl pulled a white crocheted cardigan from a mannequin. “This looks great with the maxi. You know, for the cooler weather we’re having now.”
“Thank you.” Trista liked the way the cardigan was made with lightweight material, perfect for the beach. “I’ll try it too.” She wanted to look nice for the party tonight. If she was going to work things out with Nicolette, then she needed to get to know her sister’s friends and boyfriend. Trista was going to make that her top priority while she was here in Florida. And finding a new job. She slipped into the dressing room and tried on the clothes.
“I’m sorry about that,” the salesgirl said discreetly when Trista walked out of the dressing room. “Most people in this town mind their own business.”
“It’s okay,” Trista answered. She twirled around, viewing herself in the full-length mirror. The coral dress fit her perfectly.
“I heard you had a beach house here in Blue Mountain. Of course, no one has ever seen you around, so I thought it was just a rumor,” the salesgirl continued.
“I’m just visiting for a bit,” Trista said. She wandered around the store and picked out two more dresses. One was an off-shoulder sundress in mint, and another maxi dress, this one peach, with a white crochet insert at the hem and neckline. Spring was right around the corner, and she needed a few new things to spice up her wardrobe. Most of her things she left behind in California in an air-conditioned storage unit. Starting over seemed like a good idea when she left.
“Do you have a big event to attend?”
“Just a private birthday party tonight.” Trista added a few pieces of jewelry and a pair of bone-colored sandals to the mix. “I’ll just try these on, too. Thanks.”
Trista slipped back into the dressing room and tried on the rest of the clothes. After her breakup with Blake, Trista had lost a few pounds. A few years ago, she would’ve been happy with the sudden weight loss. When she first moved to Hollywood her agent at the time—a gentleman named Walter Murphy, who had since retired—advised her to lose about twenty pounds if she wanted to work in the film business. Trista struggled for months to lose the weight, spending money she didn’t have on personal trainers and protein-shake mixes. Now a five-pound weight loss made her look too thin. She vowed to eat right while she was here. Florida was known for its fresh seafood, and she planned to indulge herself in shrimp, scallops, fish, and lobster, along with decadent key lime pies. Trista walked out of the dressing room in the mint sundress, admiring the way the dress hugged her frame. The spray tan she’d gotten before she came to Florida really accentuated the color.
“That looks really good on you!” the salesgirl told her. “It brings out your complexion nicely.”
Trista studied herself in the mirror again. The mint dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her trademark honey-blonde hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She had inherited her mother’s unusual violet-blue eyes, pert nose, and full lips. Her father, who was Italian, thankfully passed on his nice skin color to her. She thought she got the best of both worlds from her parents. She turned full circle and admired the way the dress looked on her. “I’ll take everything,” she told the salesgirl. She headed back to the dressing room and changed.
She was a little nervous about the party tonight. She wondered if Nicolette had told her friends about her famous sister. “Is the Watercolor Spa still open?” Trista inquired as she put all the clothing and shoes on the sales counter. What she really needed was a full day of pampering. Massage, facial, mani-pedi…and thinking about her wild night with Riker, a bikini wax. Who knows? After the party, Trista thought, she just might head over to the Liar’s Club and see if Riker was working. Another night of hot, passionate sex could just be the cure she needed for a broken heart.
“Yes, it is. My friend Ella works there. I can call her and set something up for you. She’ll take good care of you,” she offered as she rang up the purchases.
Trista looked at her watch. It was almost noon. “That would be great. I need to run if I’m going to make the party in time.” She thanked the salesgirl, grabbed her bags, and headed out to the spa. Tonight she wasn’t going to worry about Blake or her career. She would focus on having fun with her sister and making new friends.
Trista could hear the guests arriving as she dressed. She was surprised to find that she had butterflies in her stomach. Attending this party would be a start in the right direction with her sister. Plus she was curious about meeting Nicolette’s new boyfriend. She had never known Nicolette to be in a serious relationship with anyone. Normally she went from one man to the next, getting out before the relationship turned serious. Trista thought her sister secretly sabotaged her own relationships so she wouldn’t get hurt. She imagined it had something to do with her own parent’s fucked-up relationship.
Trista’s bedroom had a panoramic view of the Gulf of Mexico with floor-to-ceiling windows. A custom-made, king-size, round bed took up the middle of the room. Trista’s decorator spared no expense when it came to decorating her house, especially the master suite. Everything was made just for this room, including bedding worth four thousand dollars: silk comforters and throw pillows, five-thousand-thread-count sheets of Egyptian cotton, all done in soft hues of lavender, grey, and yellow. Handmade furniture and local artwork by Carl Coleman adorned the walls. She wondered why Nicolette had never moved into the master bedroom after her long absence. Trista had been gone for two years, with only the occasional visit. Yet her sister stayed in one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
She glanced in the mirror and applied her favorite Urban Decay lip gloss. She had the hairdresser at the spa do a blowout on her honey-blonde hair, making it shiny and smooth. The facial and body scrub she received made her complexion glow from head to toe. Her toenails had been applied with OPI Cajun Shrimp, to complement the coral maxi was she wearing, and her fingernails had a couple coats of Essie Tennis Corset, a white polish with a touch of glitter. She felt more like herself than she had since her split with Blake. Trista didn’t know if it was the day at the spa and new clothes or the great sex. Either way, she planned on more of all of it in the coming weeks—her self-prescribed medicine.
Trista took a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” she said before heading out. Once downstairs she found around fifty people gathered in the open living room. Nicolette had hired a party planner to help with the event. The whole place was decorated festively with silver and white balloons, glittering candles, and fresh white roses. Everyone stopped in mid-conversation and stared at Trista as she entered the room. Nicolette looked up from her conversation with a group of girls, her eyes on Trista as she walked toward her. Nicolette cleared her throat. “Um, everyone. We have a special guest tonight. This is Trista Carmichael. My sister.”
Trista blushed uncomfortably. She registered the shocked look on the guests’ faces and heard the murmuring of the crowd. So Nicolette hadn’t told her friends about her. That was typical. Her sister didn’t want Trista to steal her spotlight.
“I didn’t know Trista Carmichael was Nicolette’s sister?”
“What? How is that possible? I thought she was an only child!”
“Didn’t she get fired from that show?”
“Hello, everyone! I look forward to meeting all of you personally. First, I need a drink!” Trista gave an awkward laugh before heading into the kitchen. The caterers were setting up a large buffet with fresh Florida seafood, corn on the cob, cheese grits, and a variety of desserts. Trista grabbed a champagne flute from a silver tray sitting on the kitchen counter. She took a hearty gulp, trying to steady her nerves.
“You handled that well,” Nicolette said from behind her.
“You never told anyone that we were sisters? Are you that ashamed of me?”
“No, it just never came up.”
“Will we ever be able to put our differences behind us?” Trista asked.
“This is not the time to discuss
our differences
. James will be here any minute now, and this is supposed to be his surprise party. The key word being
surprise
.”
“Okay Nicolette. But we can’t kept putting this off forever.”
“He’s coming!” One of the girls shouted from the living room. “Everyone hide!”
“Tomorrow then,” Nicolette said, grabbing her sister’s hand. “Tonight we have fun! Come on.”
Nicolette hit the lights, darkening the living room. Only a few candles glittered throughout the area. “He thinks we’re having a romantic dinner. Just the two of us. I had everyone park their cars down the road at the neighbor’s house. Wait until he sees all of his friends here. He’ll be knocked out of his socks,” she whispered to Trista, still holding on to her hand. For a moment, it felt like they were still little girls playing dolls in their bedroom.
Everyone got quiet as the front door opened. Trista could make out a tall figure standing in the doorway. “Nicolette?” he called out. “Where are you?”
Trista held her breath. Suddenly the lights came on, more balloons and confetti dropped from the high ceiling, and everyone shouted, “SURPRISE!”
Standing in the doorway was Nicolette’s boyfriend. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, wearing distressed jeans and a white, button-down shirt. Canvas deck shoes on his feet. He genuinely looked surprised as his eyes met Nicolette’s. Then he saw Trista.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Trista mumbled under her breath as her eyes locked with Riker, Nicolette’s boyfriend. James and Riker were one and the same. She dropped Nicolette’s hand like a hot potato. “He’s knocked out of his socks, all right,” Trista whispered.