Sunkissed (8 page)

“Yeah, so?”

“I didn’t like that.”

Trista laughed. “We aren’t dating, Riker.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still don’t like you being with other men.”

“Well, get over yourself. I can kiss whomever I damn well please!” Trista started to stand, but Riker grabbed her and pulled her on top of his lap. As she turned toward him, Riker planted his lips firmly on hers. His tongue met up with hers, as they playfully teased each other.

He tasted delicious, and she started to feel the familiar ache bubbling up. If she didn’t get up and leave now, she wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. She felt his hand snake up her dress and rub against her white lacy thong. “You’re already wet,” Riker whispered in her ear. “I knew that you missed me.”

“Why do you do this to me?” Trista asked.

“You like it,” Riker answered, inserting a finger in her panties, finding her clit. He gently applied pressure, causing Trista to suck in a deep breath. She could feel his mounting erection through his designer jeans. Within seconds, she had completely forgotten all about Bruce.

***

Trista walked out of the bathroom stall and washed her hands in the sink. She looked up when she heard someone call her name.

“Trista! Who was that hottie I just saw you with?” Quinn asked, walking into the bathroom. “And what happened with the other guy? He’s been looking for you!”

Trista looked around for Nicolette to see if she had followed Quinn to the bathroom. She pulled her favorite lip gloss out of her purse and swiped it on her swollen lips before responding, “He’s just a friend.”

“Bullshit!” Quinn said, standing right next to Trista. Leave it to her best friend to see right through her lies.

“Where’s Nicolette?” Trista asked.

“She’s at the bar waiting for us,” Quinn said. A slow smile crept across her face. She leaned in and whispered, “That was Riker?”

Trista smacked her lips. “Yeah.”

“He’s so fucking hot. No wonder you’re worried. I would beat your ass if I were your sister.”

“Yeah, I know” Trista repeated, running a hand through her hair, trying to undo the tangles that Riker had put there by wrapping his fingers around the strands while she fucked him. “Now you see why I’m worried.”

“You just had sex with him, didn’t you?” Quinn grabbed Trista by the hand, turning so they were face to face. “Oh my God, you did!”

A slow smile crept across her face. Trista said, “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“You sneaky little bitch. I want details.”

“Later.” Trista put her lip gloss in her purse, snapping it shut. “Let’s go before Nicolette gets all pissy on us.”

“That guy is still looking for you.”

“Crap. I forgot about him.”

“I bet.” Quinn reapplied her own lipstick. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him and tell him you don’t feel well. You go get Nicolette. I’ll meet you outside.”

Trista nodded. She headed to the bar while Quinn went the opposite direction to the VIP section. It had been one hell of a night. She was ready to get on the plane in the morning and head to the Bahamas. She needed this weekend away to figure out what she wanted to do about Riker.

After Quinn’s comment about not getting the royal treatment when Trista picked her up from the airport, Trista surprised Quinn and her sister with a chauffeured ride to the airport. The limo driver picked up the girls at the beach house at four thirty the next morning. With only about two hours of sleep, Trista felt like a jackhammer was drilling into her brain. As the driver loaded their bags into the trunk, Trista, Nicolette, and Quinn settled into the back of the black stretch limo.

“This is a real treat,” Quinn said, popping open a bottle of Dom. She took a healthy sip of orange juice then chased it with a gulp of champagne. Trista watched as Quinn repeated the process twice. “The hair of the dog and all that,” Quinn said, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.

“We have champagne glasses, you know,” Nicolette said, pointing to the glasses that were secured in cup holders.

“Someone is grumpy this morning,” Quinn retorted, as she opened her purse and popped out two white pills. She washed them down straight from the champagne bottle, sans orange juice this time. Quinn had dressed for the flight with black leather pants, a sheer Stella McCartney pink blouse, and a pair of jet black Jimmy Choo booties.

“I only slept for an hour. My head feels like it’s going to explode,” Nicolette said. She had dressed similar to Trista—casually—with a lavender Juicy tracksuit and flip-flops. Her toenails were freshly painted with OPI’s I Just Can’t Cope-abana color, which reminded Trista of a lemon slushy.

Quinn offered Nicolette the bottle of pills. “Vicodin. Cures all hangovers.”

“I don’t think you should be drinking with those,” Nicolette said, eyeing the pills warily.

Quinn shook one out from the bottle and handed it to Nicolette. “I’m a pro, darling.” She handed her a bottle of soda from the cooler. “Here. Down the hatch. You’ll be feeling no pain, I promise.”

Trista watched as her sister put the pill in her mouth and swallowed. Nicolette winced as she washed it down with Coke. “I hope this cures my pounding skull.”

“It was your idea to go out last night. I wanted to stay home and cook dinner, if you remember,” Trista reminded her.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” Nicolette said before shutting her eyes. “Besides, you ended up having
fun
, right? So shut up.”

Trista exchanged quizzical looks with Quinn. She was used to her sister’s bad moods when they lived together many years ago. However, she hadn’t witnessed one like this since Trista had moved back home. Trista hoped Nicolette’s mood would get better once they landed in the Bahamas. She had planned on spending some quality time with her sister and working things out between them.

Within thirty minutes, the driver was pulling into the airport. Nicolette opened her eyes and peered out the window. It was still dark outside, with only the lights of the runway and parking lot illuminating the area.

“We’re at the Destin airport?” Nicolette said, looking at Trista for confirmation. Destin had a small airport that catered to private planes. She had used the airport once before when she flew home for the holidays. A few local celebrities who lived in the area, like Emeril Lagasse, kept their private planes housed here as well.

“Surprise!” Trista said with a little more enthusiasm than she should have, given Nicolette’s sour mood.

“I thought we were flying commercial?” Nicolette said, confused.

Trista shook her head. “I splurged and booked us a private jet.”

“Now we’re talking,” Quinn said, smiling brightly. She held up the champagne bottle that was half full.

Nicolette shrugged. “It’s your dime.”

As the driver pulled up to the front of the airport terminal, Trista grabbed her purse off the seat next to her. She turned to face Nicolette. “That’s right. It is my dime. And if you are going to be in a pissy mood all weekend, maybe you should just stay here.”

Quinn shot her a warning look. She reached inside her purse and pulled out another prescription bottle. This time she shook out three small blue pills and handed one to Nicolette. “No one is staying home,” Quinn said. “Take one of these. You’ll feel like a new woman by the time we land in Nassau.”

Without hesitation, Nicolette popped the pill in her mouth and chased it down the champagne bottle that Quinn handed her.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” Trista asked with growing alarm. “I don’t want to kill my sister… not just yet.”

“Ha ha.” Nicolette said smugly. The driver opened the door, and she stepped out first.

“Relax, it’s just something to calm her down.” Quinn grabbed her bag, following Nicolette. “Do you need one too?”

“What the hell? Do you have the whole fucking pharmacy in your purse?” Trista asked, getting out of the limo. She had seen Quinn pop painkillers before. She was known to have legendary migraines, but never had she seen her drink alcohol with them or take them with anything else.

“Just about anything you need.” Quinn smiled. Then she saw that Trista looked really concerned. “It’s okay, relax. I have a prescription for everything. I always take a little something before I fly. You know that.”

Trista thought back to the flights she had taken with Quinn before. She was right. She did remember Quinn taking a Valium or Xanax before a flight to Hawaii. And another time when they flew to Europe. It was the norm for some people to have a little something to settle nerves before a flight, so she decided not to make a big deal of it. Trista led them to the airport’s check-in lounge, and they waited for the flight crew. A few minutes later, they boarded the plane, and an attractive, female flight attendant greeted them. She got them comfortable and offered drinks and breakfast. Nicolette declined and immediately went to sleep. Quinn and Trista accepted a full breakfast of eggs, waffles, bacon, hash browns, toast, and coffee. While Nicolette slept in the back of the plane, Quinn and Trista sat up front at the table, eating their breakfast after takeoff.

“What exactly did you give her?” Trista asked Quinn. She was dying to talk to her friend about what happened last night with Riker. Until now, she hadn’t had a chance for fear that Nicolette would overhear.

“A Valium. Between that and the painkiller, she’ll be out for a while. By the time we get to the Bahamas, Nicolette will be in a much better mood.”

“Do you think she knows?” Trista asked in between bites of toast.

“About Riker?” Quinn whispered. “I don’t think so. Surely she would’ve said something to you by now?”

Thinking about her sister’s bad temper, Trista knew that Nicolette wouldn’t hold back if she suspected anything between her and Riker.

“Yeah, if she knew what happened last night she would’ve torn into me by now.”

“So tell me. Where did you two go?”

Trista told her about the private area that Riker led her to. She also told her about the hot sex on the couch while watching all the people below on the dance floor.

“Ah…a little bit of exhibitionist, huh?
Will we get caught or won’t we?
” Quinn smirked. “He’s a hottie. Obviously he’s good in the sack?”

“Better than good. Hypnotic. Fantastic. Mind-blowing sex.”

“Better than Blake?”

Trista scoffed. “No comparison.”

“So what’s the problem, sweetie?”

“Riker’s like a drug. I’m addicted to him. I know being with him is wrong, but he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Ever since I met him, no one else is even worth thinking about,” Trista whispered. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But everything leads back to him. I really think I’m falling hard for him.”

Quinn looked at Nicolette, who was comatose in her seat, and then back at Trista. “Then explain to me why you can’t be with Riker if you feel this way?”

Nicolette let out a long snore causing Trista to giggle. “Are you sure she’ll be okay? She’s drooling.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Quinn laughed. “Let her sleep.”

Trista continued to watch her sister. “She told me she was love with him. It would kill her to know what happened. That’s why I can’t be with him.”

“She’ll get over it.” Quinn took her friend’s hand in her own. “You deserve to be happy, Trista. If he makes you happy, then so be it. It’s really that simple.”

Trista picked up her fork and toyed with her eggs, pushing them around her plate. “It sounds so simple when you say it, but every time I start to tell her about Riker, I can’t get the words out.”

“Look, just rip off that Band-Aid. Tell her the truth about what happened. You didn’t know who Riker was when you first slept with him.” Quinn took a huge bite of hash browns, chewing them slowly before she spoke again. “But for the love of bacon, don’t tell her until after the trip. I don’t want to play referee the whole time.”

Trista took another glimpse at her sister sleeping peacefully and nodded. She would do anything for her, despite all the bitterness that lay between them. “I’ll find the right time to do it when we get back.”

“Atta girl! Now, let’s talk about all fun we’ll be having in a couple of hours.”

“After three days of lying in the sun, shopping, and eating in fabulous restaurants I’m going to be absolutely worthless when we get home tonight,” Trista said while they waited on their drinks at Senor Frogs. The famous restaurant and bar was crowded as usual with tourists and cruise-ship vacationers. They managed to get a table that overlooked the beautiful Caribbean, instead of a view of the cruise ship docks. Trista watched a few rowdy customers having fun doing a conga line, and the waitresses pouring shots for everyone who passed by them.

“This little vacation has been just what I needed,” Quinn agreed. “I haven’t had this much fun since we went to Mexico.”

“I think I gained five pounds since we’ve been here.” Nicolette reached for her drink the second the bartender set it down. It was her third strawberry daiquiri in the last hour.

“Vacation pounds don’t count,” Quinn responded, drinking her own Red Stripe beer. Quinn was not a fruity-drink kind of girl. She preferred beer, wine, or champagne. The more expensive the bottle, the better she liked it.

“Humph.” Nicolette slurped her drink. “Tell that to my jeans.”

“Let’s hit up the straw market on the way back to the hotel,” Trista suggested. “I want to buy something for my dad.”

“Good idea,” Quinn agreed. “I need souvenirs to bring the crew.”

Trista tried to hide her hurt feelings. She knew that Quinn would return to LA and start taping for the new season. A new season of
You Only Live Once
—without her. As much as she tried to avoid the Hollywood rags and entertainment news on TV, she couldn’t help but notice everyone had moved on to bigger news. Kim Kardashian’s upcoming nuptials to Kanye West had stolen the spotlight lately. Trista guessed that was a good thing. She just didn’t want to be forgotten so quickly.

“I can’t wait to see what bullshit Gil and his team of writers have come up with to explain your absence from the show. They were supposed to email me the latest script, but I still haven’t seen it,” Quinn said, making a show of checking her iPhone again.

“I already told you that he said Molly was supposed to die in an accident,” Trista said, a little more defensively than she intended. She took a huge sip of her own drink. A frozen margarita, not as good as Riker’s.

“Yeah, but you know how Gil changes his mind. All the fucking time! I really think he likes to see us squirm,” Quinn said.

“We should get something to eat before we catch our flight,” Nicolette interrupted. Trista saw her sister kick Quinn on the foot—she was trying to change the subject for her benefit. Maybe there was hope for her and her sister after all, Trista thought, smiling. Nicolette knew that Trista had come to the Bahamas to forget all about getting fired from the show and her breakup with Blake.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Quinn looked over at Nicolette. “If you want my attention, just ask.”

“I don’t think Trista wants to talk about Gil or the show,” Nicolette remarked.

Quinn reached inside her purse and dug around. She palmed another white pill and popped it in her mouth.

Didn’t she just have one an hour ago?
“It’s okay,” Trista said. “With all the paparazzi following us around this weekend it’s hard not to think about it.

Quinn said, “Sorry, Trista. I wasn’t thinking.”

Trista took another sip of her margarita. “Do you have another headache?” She was growing alarmed at the amount of pills her best friend had been taking all weekend. She seemed out of it most of the trip.

“Yeah, it’s that time of the month and I’ve got another migraine brewing.” Quinn stood up from the barstool. “Excuse me while I go to the restroom.”

“She’s taking too many,” Trista said to her sister as soon as Quinn was out of earshot.

“I thought that was all part of the Hollywood party lifestyle.” Nicolette stirred her drink before downing the rest of the red slushy liquid.

“Not for everyone.” Trista thought back to her time in LA with Quinn. She never remembered her friend taking so many pills. She would wait until after the trip and say something to her.

“I’m glad we are alone for a bit,” Nicolette said. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Trista felt her stomach give a lurch. While she hated confrontation, Trista knew it was time they cleared the air. “Okay? You got my full attention.”

“I think it’s time for me to move out of the beach house. I’m going to get my own place.”

Trista felt relief throughout her body. She visibly relaxed her tense muscles in her neck and shoulder. “You know that you’re welcome to stay at the beach house for as long as you like. It’s your home, too.”

When Sam Ricci had first moved his family to Blue Mountain Beach, he bought and renovated a huge beach estate for them to live in. It was the largest estate home in the county with over ten thousand square feet of space. But after Trista left for New York City, he decided to downsize and buy a condo. For the longest time, it was just Trista and her father. The three-bedroom condo on the beach was perfect for them—until Nicolette decided to move back home after college and Trista set out on her own.

When Trista made her first million dollars two years later, the real estate market had taken a huge tumble. Especially in Florida and California. Houses that were once worth millions of dollars could be bought for pennies on the dollar. Her dad convinced her to buy her first piece of investment property. Trista bought the beach house, sight unseen based on his recommendations, for a mere four hundred thousand dollars; the original owners had paid over three million for it in 2001.

Nicolette had offered to live in the house and take care of it while Trista was in LA. Trista wanted desperately to get along with her sister so she’d agreed. Even though their relationship was never the same again, she felt a sense of relief that her sister was watching over her investment. Now she wanted to move out.

“I appreciate that.” Nicolette pushed her empty glass away. She got the bartender’s attention and ordered another. “I really do. But it’s time for me to get my own place. I think that is part of the reason that Riker wanted to break things off.”

“Because you live in my house? That’s just silly.”

“Part of the reason he was mad at me was that I didn’t tell him about you. That I had a sister.”

“He said that?” Trista asked, incredulously. “Why?”

“Well, not in those exact words. He thought I was hiding my past from him. He wanted to know why I never told him about you.”

Trista wondered the same thing. Granted they didn’t grow up in Blue Mountain Beach. Not many people knew that Nicolette Ricci had a famous sister. Trista was curious why Nicolette didn’t want people to know they were related. Now was the time to find out. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about me?”

Nicolette sighed as she fiddled with her empty plastic cup. “Then that would’ve made it real. Telling people that we were sisters would mean that everyone would know about Dad’s affair. It almost tore apart their marriage, you know. I still remember the fights, and Mom threatening to kick Dad out of the house. I still remember her crying for weeks because she found out that he had a child with another woman. I still remember the way it felt to have your whole family ripped apart. She was really hurt and so was I.”

Trista never thought about the pain that Nicolette must have went through seeing her parents fight. “I’m sorry…I didn’t think about it that way.” Now she understood where Nicolette was coming from, although it didn’t excuse her bad behavior.

“After mom died, I took it out on you. I was really mean to you when I shouldn’t have been. Things were said that can’t be unsaid. And I’m sorry for that,” Nicolette said.

Trista reached over and rubbed her sister on the back. “It’s okay. I know that you were hurting. It wasn’t easy on you, having a new sister thrust into your life, having to share your mom and dad with someone else.”

“That’s still no excuse. You’re my sister, and I treated you like shit. If I could take it all back, I would.”

Trista got a bar napkin and handed it to Nicolette, who was crying. “I still don’t want you to move. But if you insist, at least let me go house hunting with you.”

“It’s time that I got my own place,” Nicolette said, wiping her eyes. “Although I appreciate you letting me live there while you were gone.”

“What the hell? I leave you two alone for a few minutes, and now y’all are both a blubbering mess.” Quinn stood behind them, smoking a cigarette. She tilted her head toward the sky and blew a ring of smoke. “What’s going on?”

“Nicolette is getting her own place,” Trista quickly said before Quinn thought it was a discussion about something else. Like Riker.

“Cool,” she said, jumping from one foot to the next. “Are you guys ready to jet? We only have a couple hours before we have to leave for the airport.

Trista finished the last bit of her drink. She laid a hundred-dollar bill on the bar to take care of their check. “Let’s go.”