Authors: Traci Hohenstein
“What time does our plane leave again?” Nicolette asked her sister for the third time.
“Seven-thirty.” Trista took a bite of her bagel. She was getting excited about the prospect of going to the Bahamas for a long weekend. Quinn Miller was flying in town today from LA. Trista was looking forward to spending some quality time with her best friend.
“We should take Quinn out to dinner tonight. Maybe hit up that new club that just opened in Destin,” Nicolette suggested. She was stuffing files into her briefcase, getting ready to leave for work. After a few nights of crying, three pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and several bottles of wine, Nicolette seemed to have Riker out of her system. And if not, a trip to the Bahamas would definitely help.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We have an early flight. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like flying when I’m hung over,” Trista responded. She finished her breakfast and put her plate in the sink. She was glad that Lupe, their housekeeper, was coming in today to clean and restock the refrigerator. Not only was the house a complete wreck, but Nicolette had ransacked the refrigerator. After her breakup with Blake, Trista had done the complete opposite. She couldn’t eat for days.
“Don’t be such a wuss. It will be a great kick-off to our girl’s weekend trip. Besides, Wednesday night is Ladies Night, and this club is supposed to be crawling with cute guys. Who knows, maybe you’ll finally meet someone too!”
“I’ll think about it.” Trista looked at the clock on the microwave. “Don’t you have a closing this morning?”
“Shit,” Nicolette grabbed her coffee mug and briefcase off the counter. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I have to be in Panama City in twenty minutes.”
“Then you better hurry.” It was the first of March, and spring break had already started in full force, with MTV setting up in their usual spot: Panama City Beach. Traffic would be hellish by ten o’clock.
“What are you doing today?” Nicolette asked, heading for the garage door.
“Laundry. Packing.” Trista thought about calling her agent too. Checking in to see if she had lined up any auditions for her. “Then I’m off to the studio to finish the voice-over work before I have to pick up Quinn from the airport.”
“Have fun! I’ll see ya tonight!” Nicolette slammed the door shut behind her. Trista heard the garage door go up and Nicolette’s car rev to life. The garage door eased down a couple minutes later. Now she was all alone in the beach house. Thank goodness. She loved her sister, but sometimes Nicolette could grate on her last nerve.
Trista had a couple hours before she had to be in the studio. She glanced at her phone. For once it was silent. Ever since the night Nicolette came home from her dinner with Riker, Trista had managed to stay away from him. He’d called and texted her for a week straight, but Trista ignored all his texts and deleted his voicemails without listening to them. It didn’t matter that it was over between him and Nicolette. She was never going to see him again. She hoped that eventually he would get the hint.
Trista started cleaning up the kitchen, putting the rest of the breakfast plates and mugs in the kitchen sink. The housekeeper would be here soon. Nicolette always chided Trista for cleaning up every morning before Lupe came to clean. “Why do you always clean before Lupe gets here? You do know that it is her job to do that?” she asked her one morning while Trista was sweeping. She’d answered, “I don’t know. I just like to tidy up.” But she guessed she was just used to picking up after Blake.
Old habits are hard to break.
She headed upstairs to get ready for work. In less than ten hours, Quinn would be here, and she could leave her thoughts of Blake and Riker behind her.
Quinn was waiting in the baggage terminal area when Trista got to the airport. Trista spotted her friend immediately. She was the only five-foot-ten, brunette woman wearing a black jumpsuit with bright-red high heels, which made her tower over six feet. Her hair was held back with a sequin headband and hung all the way down to her derriere. Quinn was wearing shiny, two-carat diamond post earrings. Men were enthralled by Quinn’s beauty, and women were intimidated by her. Quinn was also smart as a whip. She was not only a great actress, but a talented writer as well. She had written several screenplays and got the green light from a studio last week to start production on a new movie.
Trista met Quinn when she first moved to Hollywood. Quinn had been cast in the role as Trista’s best friend on
You Only Live Once
. They quickly became best friends in real life, too. Trista trusted Quinn, and she was the only person who knew about her past. Filled with emotion, she called out to Quinn, who was picking up her Louis Vuitton luggage from the baggage carousel.
“Trista!” Quinn shouted.
Trista hugged her friend tightly. “I’m so happy that you’re here!”
“I’ve missed you,” Quinn said, returning the hug. “Saturday yoga is not the same without you.”
“I bet.” Trista reached for one of her bags. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Quinn looked around. “What? No limo driver?”
Trista laughed. “This is the beach. We’re relaxed and laid back here. No limos, no drivers today.” In LA, they took a limo or car service everywhere. Even though Trista had her white Mercedes coup while living in LA, she hardly ever drove it. The studio had a car service on call, and it picked up Trista every morning and took her home at night. When she went out with the girls, they almost always took a limo.
Trista led her friend outside to the parking lot. She had been lucky and got a parking spot right up front. The weather was cooperating too. March was typically the rainy season, but today the temperature was in the low 70s with sunny skies. A slight sea breeze tousled her hair. She loaded Quinn’s luggage into her trunk.
“What is the plan for the weekend?” Quinn asked, as they got settled into the car.
“Nicolette wants to take us out for dinner at the Bowery on 30-A. It’s a new fabulous restaurant near the beach house. Afterward, we are going to some new club that just opened. Nicolette’s idea.” Trista drove out of the airport parking lot and headed toward the highway that would take them down to the beach. The airport was an hour away from her house, but without tourist traffic, she thought she could make it home within forty-five minutes. “I told her that going to the club may not be the best idea since we have to catch an early flight tomorrow.”
“I happen to think going to the club is an excellent idea!” Quinn smiled. “When did you get to be such a fun sucker? It’s been awhile since you and I tore up a dance floor.”
“You’re right! I guess the last time was to celebrate your thirtieth birthday in Cancun.”
“After you hooked up with Mr. Asshole, I hardly saw you anymore.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t believe that I was actually in love with him.” Trista took a quick look at her friend. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how bad Blake was?”
“Honey, I tried. They don’t call it rose-colored glasses for nothing.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Trista snuck another peek at Quinn. She was staring at her with those inquisitive eyes that could see through anyone’s bullshit.
“I knew it,” Quinn said. “You’ve slept with someone. I recognize that glow.”
“How do you know?” Trista asked, already knowing the answer. Quinn was like a Magic 8 Ball and a tarot-card reader rolled up into one. She instinctively knew when Trista had man troubles. She just wished she would’ve heeded Quinn’s warning about Blake.
“What happened?” Quinn asked, ignoring Trista’s question.
“I accidentally slept with my sister’s boyfriend.” Trista sighed. “Well, it’s complicated. He’s not actually her boyfriend. And I didn’t know they were dating.”
Quinn laughed. “Damn girl! Does trouble just follow you wherever you go? How the hell do you accidentally sleep with your sister’s boyfriend?”
Trista told Quinn everything that had happened—from the night she drove into town and slept with Riker to when she last saw Riker and broke it off with him. “Nicolette had dinner with him last week, and he told her that it was over for good. She came home in tears. Neither of us has spoken to him since then.”
“But you want to?” Quinn asked, with a sly smile on her face.
“Of course I do! But if I want to keep Nicolette from killing me…”
“You obviously have feelings for Riker?” Quinn waved her hand. “Don’t even answer. I know you do. I’ve seen that goofy look on your face before. You’re in love with him.”
“I never said that. We have a sexual chemistry that can’t be denied. But love? After everything that happened with Blake, I’m not so sure I know what love is anymore.”
“You love him. I can tell.” Quinn tried to stretch out her large frame in the small confines of Trista’s Mercedes. “Blake was just your layover. Some people have direct flights to love. And for some people, it takes two, three, or more stops to get to their destination.”
“You think Riker is my destination?”
“I think Riker is your destination, your happy ending, all rolled into one.”
“All this and you’ve never set eyes on him.”
“I don’t have to meet him to know how you’re feeling. I can tell just from looking at you, girl. You got bit by the love bug, and it shows all over.”
“What about Nicolette?”
“You guys had a rocky relationship to begin with. Nicolette needs to grow up and stop blaming other people for her problems. There was a reason it didn’t work out for her and Riker. And it wasn’t you. Tell her the truth when the time is right. She’ll get over it. And if she doesn’t…” Quinn shrugged, “then move on with your life. Do what makes Trista happy.”
Trista nodded. She didn’t want to hurt Nicolette. But all Nicolette had done since Trista was a little girl was to make her life a living hell. She never fully accepted Trista as a sister and always treated her like crap.
They continued to catch up on each other’s lives until Trista drove up to the beach house. The pool maintenance guy had parked his truck in the driveway. He was wearing board shorts and nothing else. Quinn stared at him as he lifted a long-handled net out of the back of the truck.
“Nice place,” Quinn said. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Carlos. He’s our pool guy.”
“Yummy.”
“He’s barely eighteen. His dad owns the company. He works part-time and goes to college at night.” Trista popped open the trunk. “We have plenty of time to meet other men. Please don’t accost my pool boy.”
“I was thinking he could give me a proper Florida welcome,” Quinn laughed as Carlos approached them and offered to help with her luggage.
Trista punched Quinn on the arm. “Cut it out.”
“You know I prefer older men,” she added, watching the pool boy carry her bags inside the house. “But there’s nothing wrong with a little something-something with a younger man every now and then.”
Trista thanked Carlos, who was blushing by the time he walked out to the pool deck. “Shhhh…don’t get that poor boy’s hopes up. Besides, there are plenty of older men here. We are in the state that has more retirees in all of America.”
“Yeah, that may be true but I like men that still have their own teeth and don’t carry around a little button to push when they fall down and can’t get up. And speaking of getting it up…”
Trista laughed, opening the door to the kitchen area. “Okay, that’s enough. I get your point.”
“I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us tonight,” Quinn said, throwing her purse down on the table. She picked up a bottle of tequila that was sitting on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get this party started.”
Club Aqua was a new nightclub located in Destin, which was the nearest town to the west of Blue Mountain Beach. The colorful club was housed in a renovated warehouse, just over twenty-thousand square feet of space sectioned into three parts. The largest part had a large dance floor with a live DJ spinning a mix of pop music infused with techno. There was also a VIP section located on two levels: one behind the dance floor and one on the second level, which was roped off and had a discreet view of the whole club. Another part of the club housed a variety of pool tables, dartboards, and poker tables. A long, U-shaped bar served a variety of drinks and appetizers. It was quieter than the other side of the club and had more of laid-back beach theme with pop/country music playing from the stereo system.
“This isn’t anything like the Liar’s Club,” Nicolette mused as they pulled into the parking lot. “I’ve been trying to get Daddy to open a nightclub like this near Blue Mountain Beach. We need more than just hole-in-the-wall establishments that cater to people like Crazy Jack.”
“I had a sneaky feeling this was just more than a girls night out at the club. This is a research trip for you, isn’t it?” Trista asked her sister. She knew that Nicolette was her father’s right-hand woman when it came to business dealings. She had to give her sister credit. Nicolette had made Sam Ricci a lot of money; she was a natural in knowing a good real estate investment when she saw it.
“Consider this a perk of the job,” Nicolette said, stepping out of the car. She was dressed in a black-leather mini skirt with a white sheer blouse and black high- heel boots. A group of men were getting out of their car at the same time, and all of them turned to stare at Nicolette. She gave them a half wave and smile before turning her attention back to Trista.
Trista took a moment to adjust her dress before getting out of the car. She had decided on the aqua-colored chiffon dress she had bought from the Beach Peach during her last shopping spree with Nicolette. It was a short dress with the hemline hitting just above her knees. The neckline was covered in delicate lace and the back of the dress was open all the way to the middle of her back. It was pretty in the front and sexy in the back. The color of the dress complimented her hair and tan that she still maintained by going to the tanning salon every week. “I’m ready. Let’s go,” she said to Quinn who was getting out of the backseat.
Quinn was a stunning beauty as always. Trista always joked that Quinn could wear a paper sack and make it look fashionable. Tonight was no exception. Her friend went with an understated look with faded Levis, a cropped white t-shirt that showed off her amazing abs, a black leather studded vest, and a million dollars in diamonds between her ears and navel. She borrowed a pair of rusty-red cowboy boots from Nicolette that just added a touch of flair to her outfit. Her long, raven hair hung loosely in a fishtail braid down the right side of her shoulder. Thick, dark eyelashes coated in jet-black mascara made her eyelashes flare dramatically around her emerald-colored eyes. The mascara, black eyeliner, and ruby-red lipstick were the only makeup Quinn wore.
“We’re counting on you to round them up for us,” Trista said to Quinn. She knew as soon as they walked into the club the men would be fighting to talk to her best friend.
“Just remember to save some for us,” Nicolette joked.
The three of them made their way inside the club. Nicolette knew the bouncer, and he escorted them to the first-floor VIP section, where a table was waiting for them. While the outside of the club looked like a worn-down piece of crap, the inside was fabulous. The dance floor was made of acrylic glass and had an aquarium underneath. While dancing, you could view all kinds of marine life swimming around, including a few nurse sharks and stingrays. There was stadium-style seating in one section where patrons had a good view of the dance floor and stage. Oversized stuffed chairs and couches were scattered behind the dance floor. In the VIP section, bottle service, tapas, and a personal bartender and waitresses paid close attention to a patron’s every need.
The girls sat at one of the tables and ordered drinks. Quinn insisted on starting the night with a shot of Silver Patron all around. As predicted, it didn’t take long for the men to start lining up at the VIP section, wanting to meet Quinn. The bouncer did a good job of keeping them at bay, only letting in VIP members.
“To hell with this boring VIP stuff. I’m going to go dancing,” Quinn said after downing her shot and chasing it with a beer. She grabbed Trista’s hand. “Let’s go have some fun, girls.”
Nicolette flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m staying here.” She looked over at the next table, where the group of men from the parking lot were seated. “I see someone I’d like to talk to.”
Trista looked concerned for a moment. She realized she and Nicolette had never really gone out like this before and wasn’t sure about leaving her big sister alone with a bunch of men that neither of them knew. “Are you sure?”
Quinn tugged on Trista’s arm. “She’ll be fine. Mr. Arms-Bigger-Than-His- Ass over there will protect her if needed,” Quinn said, referring to the bouncer assigned to the VIP room.
They hit the dance floor as soon as Miley Cyrus’s
Wrecking Ball
remix started playing. Quinn and Trista stood in the center of the dance floor and gazed at the multitude of colorful fish that swam below.
“I’ve got to say I’m fucking impressed! There is nothing like this in LA,” Quinn said, staring at a large nurse shark that circled around before darting off.
“Oh, LA has its share of sharks and barracudas. You’ve met Gil Salmon, right?” Trista laughed. She knew they were catching the attention of men hanging around the bar. It wouldn’t be long before one of the admiring men came hitting on them.
“Gil is a prick who doesn’t know his asshole from his elbow. He made a huge mistake by firing you from the show.” Quinn took Trista by the hand and twirled her around the dance floor. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Some fantastic show will come along and scoop you right up.”
When Trista had found out she had been axed from the show, and after the Blake cheating fiasco, Quinn was the first person who showed up at her front door to console her. She’d told Trista that she had no idea Gil was changing up the show and Trista’s contract was not being renewed. Apparently nobody did, except for top brass. The rest of the crew showed up later that night, and they all had a drunken three-day weekend, vowing not to return to the show unless Trista was re-hired. In the end, Trista told her friends not to cause problems, even though just the thought of everyone boycotting the show on her behalf made her heart swell with love for them. Marla used to tell her that every dark cloud had a silver lining, and this was one of those times when Trista truly believed something good was going to come out of this. She just wished it would hurry up and get there!
“I hope you’re right,” Trista yelled over the music. “Watch out. Here come some of your admirers.” They looked over at two men heading their way. Barely catching their names over the loud music, Quinn and Trista started dancing with them.
Trista thought her dance partner was cute. He had a nice smile and an even nicer butt that she noticed when he turned around. Quinn’s dance partner looked like he could pass for Channing Tatum.
Some girls have all the luck
.
After a few songs, her partner led Trista off the dance floor. They walked back to the VIP section, leaving Quinn and her man on the dance floor. It was a little quieter in this part of the club, and Trista could finally talk to her dance partner without yelling. A quick look over at the other tables, and Trista saw the three men from the parking lot surrounding Nicolette. She was laughing and looked like she was having a good time.
“My name is Bruce,” her dance partner told her. “I wasn’t sure that you heard me out there.”
“Trista Carmichael,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Holy shit!” Bruce exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar. What are you doing here in Florida?”
“Visiting family.” It was the safe answer she gave most people. And it was true.
“I love your show,” Bruce said. “I’ve watched every episode. Some more than once. Your character Molly is so funny.”
Trista smiled. Obviously Bruce didn’t read
OK! Magazine
. He thought she was still working on the show. She didn’t bother to correct him. “Thank you. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce blushed. “I sound like some crazed fan, huh? I can assure you that I’m not a serial killer or anything.”
Trista laughed. “It’s okay. As long as you don’t ask me to autograph your ass or anything.”
“Would you? Autograph my ass, that is?” Bruce laughed at the expression on her face. “Just kidding. Let me buy you a drink instead?”
The waitress came over at the table. “We already have a tab open, and it’d be my treat. What would you like?” Trista asked, smiling at the waitress who was waiting for their order.
“If you insist. Crown and seven, please.”
“I’ll have another margarita.” She waited for the waitress to leave. “So, what do you do?” Trista asked Bruce.
“I’m a lawyer. Family law, real estate closings, some malpractice and injury.”
“Living in a small beach town I guess you have to diversify, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that. I hate to bore you to death about law. I bet your life is way more exciting.”
Trista thought about her cheating fiancé, losing her job on the show, and having sex with her sister’s boyfriend. It was then that she realized her life sounded like a real-life soap opera. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”
They continued to talk. The more they did, the more Trista liked Bruce. After his initial fan crush, she realized that Bruce was a funny guy. And he wasn’t that bad to look at. His facial features were rather plain, but he had beautiful blue eyes and a nice body. He wasn’t egotistical like most men in LA and wanted to know more about her rather than talking about himself. He seemed like a true southern gentleman—he was originally from Georgia and had moved down here to take care of his ailing mother, who had recently died of MS. Trista told him about her own stepmother’s battle with cancer. She realized they had a lot in common. As the hours flew by, she became more entranced with Bruce. He leaned over and kissed her. His lips were nice and soft, and the kiss was sweet. It wasn’t passionate like she had with Riker. But she didn’t mind.
“I’m sorry. Was that too fast?” Bruce asked.
“No, actually it was really nice.” Trista looked around to check on Nicolette. But she wasn’t in the VIP section anymore. The club was getting crowded wall-to-wall with people, and she couldn’t find Nicolette or Quinn anywhere in the throng of people. It made her very nervous not knowing where they were. “Sorry, I think I need some fresh air. Would you excuse me for a sec?”
“Would you like some company?” Bruce offered.
“Um, sure.” Trista said. “Let me find my friends, and I’ll meet you by the front door.”
“Okay,” Bruce agreed. He leaned in and gave her another kiss. This time on the cheek. “See ya soon.”
Trista headed for the dance floor, but Quinn wasn’t among any of the dancers. She turned to check the bar when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A familiar handsome face stared back at her.
“Riker! What are you doing?” Trista yelled above the loud music.
“I’m here with some friends from work,” he answered. “What’s up with you and nerdy boy?”
Trista’s eyes widened. Had he been watching her this whole time? “He’s not a nerd. What are you doing? Stalking me?”
“No, I just happened to be walking by the VIP section when I saw you two snuggled on the couch. Did you just meet this guy?”
Trista put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you. It’s really none of your business.”
Riker put his hand on her elbow. “Let’s go somewhere quiet where we can talk about this.”
Trista tried to jerk her arm free, but he held a tight grip on her. “I don’t think so,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Five minutes, Trista.”
Trista stared at him for a moment, taking in his gorgeous eyes and the deep dimples that never failed to cause her to swoon. He was too damn irresistible. Dammit. Where was Quinn when she needed her? Trista felt her resolve melt away. “Okay. Five minutes. That’s it.” She forgot all about Bruce as she followed Riker through the crowded nightclub. They passed the bar area where she spotted Quinn sitting with the guy she had been dancing with. They were throwing back some shots, laughing. She looked around for Nicolette again but didn’t see her.
Riker continued to hold her hand as they passed the restrooms and the stairs, which led up to another level that housed the DJ booth. Another set of stairs was roped off and held a sign that said PRIVATE. Riker removed the rope and held it open for Trista. She thought about asking him where they were going, but she knew he would just ignore her. She passed through and waited until he put the red velvet rope back in place. They quickly made their way up the stairs. It was darker here, and Trista stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Riker grabbed her hand again and led her to a leather couch that was pushed against a wall. Once her eyes adjusted, Trista could see they were in another part of the club, similar to the VIP section. “What is this?”
“The owner reserves it for private parties. We’re in luck. No parties tonight.”
“I take it you’re friends with the owner?”
Riker nodded. “You could say that.”
Several other seating areas held a variety of chairs, tables, and couches. A few potted plants were scattered around. It was peaceful up here, away from the crowds and noise, although Trista could still feel the vibrations of the bass through the floor.
“Now, tell me what you’re doing here with that guy.” Riker put his arm around Trista as he leaned back on the couch.
“I’m not here with Bruce. My best friend Quinn is in town, and Nicolette and I decided to take her out tonight.”
Riker nodded. “You kissed him.”