Relapse in Paradise

by Roxanne Smith

  Indeed, the last clock she’d checked near a bank on the way home had read a few minutes past midnight. It certainly felt like midnight, the dastardly hour when everything turned to a pumpkin.

  A surprise rain shower had ruined the flouncy skirt of her dress. It flattened embarrassingly against her legs and butt. She might as well have gone out in granny panties and a bra. Ryder had insisted on late night sushi in order to conduct their transaction as business associates, rather than passing a paper sack of cash between them like common criminals. She recognized it for an excuse, but half their meal had passed before she’d figured out why.

  Ryder genuinely liked her. He’d taken her on a date, an actual date. Then again, why did it surprise her? She was doomed to get relationships wrong. She’d loved Blake, a man incapable of loving her in return, seemed to be inexplicably falling for a man fundamentally unable to abide her station in life, and a criminal had taken her out for a lovely dinner.

  “I had a hot date.” She ignored Akela as she unlocked the shop and went inside. Akela followed her up the stairs and into her room, where Emily kicked off her shoes and tugged the hoops from her ears. “I can visit you in the morning if you want to talk, Akela.”

  She didn’t respond with words but a choked sniffle and a heavy breath, slowly and forcefully exhaled.

  Emily forgot her wet clothes and clammy skin and came back to Akela. “Hey, it’s okay. Come on. Come sit on the bed and tell me what’s happened.” She had no desire to spend the next hour patting Akela’s back and cooing, but she didn’t have it in her to turn away her only friend. Not when she’d been so kind and helpful.

  Emily rubbed Akela’s shoulder while she sat on the edge of the bed. It sagged beneath their combined weight.

  Akela ran her hand across her nose like a child and kept her gaze low. “I sat at the top of the stairs in The Canopy the whole time Boston and Hani argued. I hate it when they do that. Everyone acts like fighting is such a childish thing, but adults are the worst.”

  Emily agreed wholeheartedly. “What’d they argue over?” She had a good idea, but Akela needed to get it off her chest. She left her to sniffle and went for the pajamas she’d picked out earlier, the warm cotton beckoning.

  “Money. What else?” Akela sniffed again and studied her hands balled up in her lap. She looked at Emily with moist, red-rimmed eyes. “Emily, we can’t let Boston do it. We can’t. He’ll lose The Canopy, and it’s one of the only things protecting him from Jordan. Without it…”

  Too tired to force a smile, Emily worked her body out of the wet, clinging garment and tried to give Akela an honest answer. “Boston is a fighter. The Canopy may rely on him, but he doesn’t need The Canopy for a reason to say no to Jordan. I’ve witnessed firsthand what lengths Boston will go to in order to protect it.”

  Akela shook her head. “What if there ain’t a Canopy to protect? Don’t you get it?”

  Emily did, all too well. Which is exactly why she’d done what she had. “Akela, I—”

  “That’s why he needs you.”

  “Okay, but the thing is, he doesn’t know—”

  “He does, though.”

  That brought Emily up short. “He does?”

  “He knows but chooses not to see. But I do.”

  Emily slipped the gown over her head, then joined Akela on the bed.

  The young woman turned her knees toward her and reached for Emily’s hands, taking on the role of comforter as she gave Emily an encouraging nod. “I came here to give you my blessing.”

  “B-blessing?”

  “You’re the other thing, Emily.” She closed her eyes and sagely nodded. “I know, I know. I got this big, stupid crush.” Her eyes opened again, revealing a resolute hardness. “I’m not dumb. Boston won’t ever look at me like he looks at you. And you’re right. He don’t need The Canopy, either. Not if he’s got you.”

  Talk about miscommunication.

  Emily pulled away from Akela. “I paid Kale’s debt. That’s how I meant he needed me. Financially, Akela, which is how he’s needed me from the beginning. Since we became sort-of friends along the way, I try to not take offense, but I’m no more a dummy than you are.”

  “Oh, great.” Akela’s black eyes rolled inside their sockets. “You, too, huh? Gah, you guys are just… Ugh. So frustrating.” She inhaled and spoke in a sharp tone new to Emily. “Boston cares about you.”

  Funny how everyone seemed so convinced of this, yet, the one person Emily hadn’t heard it from was Boston.

  “I’m glad he won’t lose The Canopy,” Akela went on. “I love being there and helping people. I love seeing Hani every day and seeing him happy. But it won’t last. Not with Boston in charge. Not because he’ll fail, not because he don’t care—because he does care. One day he’ll overextend himself like he’s done helping Kale. Like he nearly did to help Ryder, even. Imagine, Emily, if you were anyone else and found out about the money he took from the Hilton? Who else would overlook what boils down to theft?”

  “How do you know about the Hilton money?”

  Another youthful eye roll. “The boys talk like Hani’s little sister ain’t got a pair of ears or something. But you hear me, Emily. Hear me good. If Boston had tried that on the wrong person, it would’ve ruined everything. Boston doesn’t have a ‘no’ button. And if Hani’s serious about leaving…”

  Her mind spun despite exhaustion. So much in one day. “Hani’s leaving where?”

  Akela sighed and her shoulders fell a little. “It don’t matter. What matters is The Canopy won’t always be around.”

  Emily stood. Maybe it was the blend of weariness and anxiety, or the strange blessing from Boston’s crush, or the small fortune she’d given away to a criminal in the interest of saving a grown man from himself. Regardless, Akela needed an education.

  “Akela, you’re a sweetheart. You really are, but understand something. I won’t always be around, either. You talk like I live here, but my home is a thousand miles away. I’m on vacation.” She paced across the room. “Some vacation it’s turned out to be, huh? I’ve spent most of my time in a soup kitchen with addicts and drunks, people for whom I have little to no sympathy. I’m the worst kind of person for this type of environment. Plus, I’m still trying to figure out how Jordan became my problem. She’s stalked me, conned me into buying her a hoagie, and gotten me to suffer through her nasty attitude and pointless insults. And for what? For Boston to tell me I’m like the one, but I’m not the one? I’m kind of what he wants, but maybe in a different color. I’m the style he wants, but the size is wrong.”

  “So, you do know what I’m talking about.”

  The fight left Emily. She slumped back into her spot on the bed and managed a quiet response. “You’ve got the right idea, Akela, but the wrong person. However, I appreciate the blessing. It means a lot you’d consider letting me move in on your territory.”

  “It wasn’t easy to do.” Akela patted her hand. “But you’re worthy, Emily. A little too worthy, if I’m honest about it.” She gave Emily a sideways glance and a small smile.

  “I’ve had my fill of honesty. It only ever gets me in trouble. In fact, you’d be doing me a huge favor if you kept my secret about paying Kale’s debt to yourself for a while. I don’t want Boston to spend our last week feeling indebted to me. I’ll let him know when I’m ready.”

  Akela’s head-bobbing had a decidedly sarcastic manner to it. “Sure, Emily. Because what this whole mess needs is another secret.”

  Nothing was ever so wise as youth.

  * * * *

  Emily’s terse note had seared itself onto Boston’s retinas.

  Not feeling well. Staying in tomorrow.

  -Emily

  He didn’t buy it. Especially given how Akela had brought it to him without hardly looking at him, then yawning and explaining how Emily had a late night.

  And now Ryder had disappeared. The two were conceivably connected. Emily didn’t owe h
im a damn thing. Not her company and not the truth about how she might feel about Ryder, despite anything and everything she might have said.

  Boston gripped the van’s steering wheel and fought the urge to yell at someone, anyone. Hell, he’d shout at the dash if he thought it’d make him feel better. He’d spent the whole day hunting Ryder. The man had vanished. None of Boston’s contacts had seen him sulking around downtown, either. At least a call to Zachary at the army base had put Boston’s foremost fears to rest—Kale had made it safely into military custody, however safe that might be.

  If Ryder hadn’t caught Kale, where was he and why wasn’t he banging down The Canopy’s door to collect?

  Emily’s poised face popped into his head. Right about now she’d drop some smarty-pants logic to make him feel better, and he’d argue against it for the sport. He had more urgent concerns than Emily’s sudden disassociation, but it bothered him.

  He didn’t have the words to fix it, though.

  Please hang out with me. I miss you.

  Sorry I’ve ruined the only vacation you’ve had in three years.

  I think I love you.

  He glanced at the dashboard clock’s dim green glow. Already after six. An entire day gone without seeing neither hide nor hair of Emily. Or Ryder. Boston put the coincidence away for later rumination. He pulled into his spot across the street from The Canopy and got out of the van. His line of vision instantly went to the upstairs window of the jewelry store. Too much to hope she’d be daydreaming out the window, see him, smile, and wave.

  To hell with it. He crossed the street but didn’t head for The Canopy.

  Wendy greeted him with a small smile.

  “Hi, Wendy. I’m just headed up to visit with Emily.”

  The woman let out an un-amused puff of air. “If my shop got half as much traffic as my tenant does…” She let the sentiment trail off as though the possibilities were too numerous to name.

  Boston tipped his head and bounded up the steps. He knocked. No answer.

  Wendy came bustling to the foot of the narrow staircase. Her palm smacked against her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Boston. She stepped out a little while ago. I was doing the books and hardly noticed, but now I recall.”

  “No biggie.” He thanked her and left. Taking the time into account, his shoulders relaxed. Emily would be next door getting a plate from Hani. Of course.

  A moment later, he stepped into the busy kitchen of The Canopy. Hani and Akela bustled around in an efficient harmony, marking the occasional bump against one another with a soft curse under their collective breath. Man, this place needed a bigger kitchen.

  He glanced at Hani.

  Or a smaller chef.

  “You guys seen Emily today?”

  Hani ignored him like he had since their argument last night, but Akela glanced up from piling rice onto a plate with a big metal spoon. “She came in late this afternoon. Eyes puffy. Told you, Bos, she didn’t get no sleep last night. Then she left and, before you ask, she didn’t say where.” She handed the plate of plain rice to Hani.

  He topped it with a healthy serving of vegetables and what might’ve been chicken.

  “The weather,” Akela said by way of explanation. “Storm’s been bringing in more than usual. They’re having a hard time out there.”

  Like it wasn’t hard all the time. Boston understood, though. Difficult to sit on the corner and beg for change in a downpour. Some did, and some sought refuge instead.

  He chewed his lip. Where would Emily go?

  He left the business of feeding people to Hani and Akela and worked his way through the maze of folks in the dining hall to exit The Canopy. The silence outside was stifling compared to the crowd inside. Darkening clouds off to the east appeared to be considering Oahu for a little evening fun, which meant the dining hall might do more than offer a dry place to eat, but one to sleep for as many as they were legally able to capacitate. He almost went back inside.

  Instead, he turned toward home. Boston paused on the landing outside his front door and grasped the knob to hold it steady while he inserted the key, only to find it turned easily in his hand.

  Strange. He stepped inside and froze at Emily standing in the middle of the room. Not alone. Had it been only Emily, he’d have smiled. Hell, he’d have probably gone for that hug because he’d been stupid not to before.

  But it was Emily and, inexplicably, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hand.

  Indignation hit him hard and fast. “What in the hell are you doing with that?” He closed the door behind him and didn’t dare get any closer. She might as well be waving a handgun.

  Her large brown gaze fixed onto his.

  She continued to hold the bottle aloft. “I suppose you should tell me.” The words came out flat and struck him worse than if she’d sounded suspicious or angry. She looked at him, but her gaze kept traveling back to the bottle.

  “I’d have to know first, wouldn’t I?” He swallowed. Why the hell was he nervous?

  She gave it a slight shake. The liquid sloshed inside the glass. “I found it. Right here, wedged in between the couch cushions.”

  She could’ve said the ocean had been swallowed by a giant octopus and Mars had descended from the heavens to high-five Earth and he’d have been less stunned.

  “That’s not—I haven’t… Are you out of your mind? I don’t even drink—haven’t drank.” He sputtered and stammered and knew it made him seem guilty. “Emily, please. That’s not mine.”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t bring it here. I drink beer. Don’t do whiskey.” She laughed, a small snort as she studied the bottle. “Let alone half a pint.”

  Boston clamped his teeth together to keep them from grinding. Of all the low things she could accuse him of this ranked damn near the top. “You believe I’d do it?”

  She shook the bottle. “It’s called evidence.”

  He dragged his hands through his loose hair and stomped past her. “Screw you, Emily. I didn’t even stay here last night. Ask the boys at The Canopy. I spent the night there, waiting for Ryder to show.”

  “Akela said you argued with Hani and disappeared.”

  “You checking up on me? I came back late and slept in Kale’s bed because I assumed Ryder would return and I wanted to be waiting when he did.” Slowly, he faced her. “I haven’t been able to find him, and I’m not the only person Akela likes to talk about. I heard you had a late night yourself. Could be Ryder found another bed to sleep in.”

  Her shoulders, bare from the strapless dress she wore, squared defensively. Her words were strictly offensive, though. She hadn’t taken the bait. “Who said this bottle’s from last night? Jordan was here the night I showed up, and maybe I took in the scene wrong. Maybe you didn’t turn her offer down after all.”

  Even last night, as pissed off as he’d been at Hani, his vision hadn’t gone red. But it damn sure did now. The pieces came together like a twisted puzzle.

  An unlocked door.

  A spurned ex-wife.

  Somehow, Jordan was responsible for this. He’d never prove it, but he shouldn’t have to. Not to anyone who mattered.

  He came face-to-face with Emily and snatched the bottle from her hands. With every ounce of indignant anger burning inside him, he hurled it against the far wall. It shattered into a thousand fragments. Droplets of liquor flew into the air and landed like sprinkling rain on his arms and Emily’s shoulders, but most of the liquid soaked into the carpet beneath the remnants of the smashed bottle.

  “That’s how much I care about your goddamn whiskey.”

  Emily had a hand over her mouth, and she stared at him with huge eyes. She took a step back.

  He took one forward to match it. “You want to believe that’s who I am after I’ve worked so hard to leave it behind, that’s fine. But who said it matters what you think? How much is your snooty opinion worth to a guy like me? You think I care?”

  Despite his ang
er, the lying killed him. He did care. The unfairness of everything burned him like fire—Jordan’s assault, Hani’s abandonment, and Emily’s doubt.

  He didn’t realize until now what it’d meant for her to call him a fighter. She had claimed to believe in him. It meant something different when Emily said it because she wasn’t one of the people sitting on his shoulders, relying on him. She respected him, and it had given him a measure of pride he’d lacked ever since losing his place in the classroom.

  It pissed him off to care.

  He glared at Emily. “Jordan had a hand in this. I don’t know how, but she planted the whiskey. Maybe it’s some test of your trust.” A dry laugh escaped. “Man, did she know exactly how you’d react. It’s a thing of beauty, that level of manipulation. The usual scare tactics didn’t work on you, so what could she do? Plant a damn bomb, that’s what.”

  Emily’s hand fell away from her mouth. She didn’t look horrified anymore, but strain pulsed in the veins on her neck. “Jordan snuck into your apartment and put a half-empty bottle of whiskey in your couch so this would happen? How could she know when I’d be here? What if you found it first?”

  Boston rubbed his forehead. It sounded lame when she said it out loud, but nothing else made sense. If only Emily knew Jordan the way he did. “Ask her. Or, hell, don’t if you’ve made up your mind.”

  “I-I don’t know.” Her voice grew quieter. “There’s other stuff.”

  He nodded. Nothing surprised him now. “Stuff that makes you wonder about me?”

  She nodded. “A little. Yeah.”

  “You gonna share?”

  She’d been small there for a minute. He’d acted like an insane person, and Emily had shrunk beneath it.

  Now, her back straightened, and she came to herself as if suddenly recalling she wasn’t the type to shrink. “Forget it. But at least we’ve discovered one thing we have in common.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t care, either.”

  Boston gritted his teeth. He wished she had the stones to yell it and scream it in his face like a mad woman, like Jordan would have. But not Emily, Miss Poised and Proper. Oh, no. She merely said it, flat and without a trace of inflection or emotion.