One Way Ticket

by Tricia O'Malley

  “How do you feel?”

  “Cranky.”

  “I can imagine. But I mean…any difficulty breathing? Vision issues?”

  “Oh…are you worried about his toxin killing me?” Paige’s heart seized in her chest and where moments before she wasn’t having difficulty breathing, now she found that she was.

  “Nope, not this particular variety of scorpion. That’s not to say you couldn’t have an allergic reaction though. Any other incidents that you know of? You respond to bee stings or anything like that?”

  “No, nothing out of the normal.” Paige schooled her breathing, now that she knew there wasn’t some weird neurotoxin creeping through her veins about to take her down.

  “Then I think we just clean it and bandage you up.”

  Paige stayed silent for a moment, and watched Jack as he competently cleaned the wound and bandaged her foot. His hands felt cool against her skin, and his touch was sending delicious little tendrils of warmth through her body. If Horatio had found her with a scorpion, he would’ve gone running for the hills and made someone else handle it. Instead, here Jack was to help her. It was an unusual feeling for Paige, to let someone else tend to her, and she couldn’t help but warm to Jack even more for his help.

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” Paige said.

  “No problem. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “What happens if a guest gets hurt? Are you the first responder?”

  “I am. As are our security guards and several other staff members. We can handle most minor issues until we can get medical help.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “So, you’re all patched up now.” Jack patted her calf and, looking up, he shot her a smile that made her want to close the door to her office and show him how thankful she was for his assistance. Instead, Paige gingerly pulled her foot off of his lap.

  “Thank you.”

  “Here, let me help you up.” Jack hopped easily to his feet and gave her his hand. Hauling her up, he held her arm while she gingerly tested her weight on her foot.

  “Oh, it’s not so bad anymore.”

  “Yeah, they have a nasty sting, but it should go away in a day or so.”

  “Is there any way to scorpion-proof my cottage?”

  “Not really. But they aren’t super common either. I suggest you get in the habit of shaking your shoes out and doing a quick shake of your bedsheets before you climb in at night.”

  “I thought we discussed not speaking about scorpions in bed?”

  Jack laughed and moved toward the door.

  “Best to learn these things now. Scorpions like cool and dark places. Leaving your shoes out like that was a lovely invitation for it to curl up for a nap. Next time, put them up on a shelf.”

  “Right. Shoes on the shelf.”

  “Or go barefoot.”

  Paige gave him a look and Jack laughed again.

  “Sorry, I still haven’t had coffee.”

  “I’m heading that way myself. Why don’t you join me, and I’ll make sure you don’t topple over from your battle wounds.”

  “You just told me I would be fine,” Paige grumbled. “Now you’re worried I’ll fall over and die from the sting.”

  “Come on, crankypants. Let’s get you that coffee.”

  “My first day on the job is not going as I expected. First I flash my boss and then I get viciously attacked by the biggest scorpion this island has ever seen,” Paige said as she limped next to Jack to the kitchen.

  “Oh, is that how we are retelling the story now?” Jack grinned down at her.

  “Naturally.”

  “Well, my fearless warrior, you’ve reached your nirvana – coffee is here.” Jack held the door to the kitchen open and Paige almost whimpered in gratitude as the scent of coffee and baked goods greeted her.

  “Warrior? Why a warrior? Did you attack our new coordinator, Jack?” Martin, the chef, paused from where he was cutting fruit at a long metal industrial kitchen table.

  “Of course. I gotta keep them on the defense at all times.”

  “I had a run-in with a scorpion.” Paige spied the carafe of coffee and limped over to the table to pour herself a cup.

  “Oh, nasty little beasts.” Martin nodded sympathetically at her.

  “I’m off.” Jack held up his own mug of coffee to wave goodbye as he headed for the door. “Let me know if there’s any lingering effects.”

  “I will. Thanks for the first-aid.”

  “No problem.”

  “You got any lingering effects…for that?” Martin nodded to where Jack had just been standing.

  “For…oh, you mean for Jack? Of course not.” Paige laughed and buried her face in her coffee.

  “Mmhmm. Well, I’m sorry you got stung. But I’m glad you’re here. We need to discuss your menu.”

  “Wait, what? My menu?”

  “Yes, your menu. Apparently, they don’t trust me to come up with it on my own.” Chef shook his head sadly.

  “Wait, why? That’s silly. You’re the chef.”

  “That’s what I tell them, dear. They don’t listen. They say that I don’t understand these fancy guests. What’s to understand? Food is love. You give love to people. It’s very simple.”

  “Is there like a…detox program or something with the retreat? I don’t remember reading about that when we signed up. If so, that’s pretty easy – just lemon water or green juices for a few days.”

  “They say they want healthy. But nobody wants healthy on vacation. Two rum punches in and all of a sudden I’m being pulled from bed to put french fries on.”

  “That sounds about right.” Paige laughed. “I’m happy to hand the menu design over to you. You’re the expert.”

  “No good, beauty. You best write it up and I’ll make it happen.”

  “Tell me, what types of food do you like to cook? What’s local here?” Paige asked, trying to decide if she should have a muffin. They certainly looked good, but even looking at carbs made her already well-padded hips thicken. That being said, if any a morning called for carbs – it was this one.

  “I like delicious comfort food with a lot of heat. We can do seafood, grilled vegetables, all the seasoned rice…that kind of thing.”

  “That all sounds great. Knowing the Californians, they’ll stick their nose up at any carbs, so you’ll want to focus on proteins and veggies.”

  “Fine by me, hermosa. You just need to tell me what to do.”

  “I’ll need help in knowing how much to order. I have no idea what gets wasted or how much to serve.”

  “No problem. I’ve got you.”

  “I’ll…” Screw it, Paige needed that muffin now. “I’ll just take this to my desk and check in with you once I’ve got my head wrapped around everything.”

  “Good luck.” Martin laughed. “You’ll need it.”

  “So I hear.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you mean, there’s no tab? I was told there would be a tab for Tranquila Inn here?” Paige gaped at the man at the register at the open-air market she’d found once she’d ventured into town to get the lay of the land.

  The ride there had been tricky at best.

  Earlier that afternoon, CeCe had handed her the keys to a battered little two-door Suzuki, and told her to head to town to get started. She insisted that Paige have a look around in case guests asked her about activities or restaurants to visit. While Paige agreed that she should have a brief understanding of what Poco Poco Island had to offer, the mountain of paperwork on her desk made her anxious – not to mention she was still limping from her scorpion wound. Despite Paige’s protests, CeCe had shooed her away, and that was how Paige had found herself white knuckling the steering wheel of a tiny SUV that she was certain would fall apart at any moment based on the sounds that emanated from beneath the rusted hood. The roads were a mess, and Paige had screeched more than once as she’d swung to avoid a massive pothole and had almost hit an on-coming car. By the time
she’d reached town, the back of her dress had been soaked through, and Paige had worked her way through every inventive curse she’d known.

  Now, standing here, staring in confusion at the man who shook his head at her, Paige invented a few new iterations of her curse phrases.

  “No, señora. No for Tranquila Inn.”

  “But…” Paige looked down at the tote bag full of fruits she’d gathered. She’d wanted to get a small sampling of what the markets offered before she would work it into the menu. “I was told…”

  “No. Tranquila Inn no good.”

  “How much? Cuañto?” Paige motioned to the bag.

  “Twenty. Vente.”

  “Fine.” Paige said and dug the money out of her wallet. She was glad she had some cash on hand or she’d have had to hand the fruit back to the man.

  “Do you have a receipt?” she asked, and the man just grinned at her as he took her cash. “Right, got it. No receipt.”

  Paige took a little notebook from her purse and jotted the expense down, making sure she dated it. She’d need to keep track of everything so that Jack didn’t think she was stealing from Tranquila Inn.

  Why had the man said that Tranquila Inn was bad? Did he mean their credit was bad? Or the hotel was bad? What was the deal here? The people on the plane had laughed at her as well. Her mind whirling, Paige hefted the tote bag to her shoulder and began to walk through the little downtown.

  Clustered on the water were a few blocks of colorful buildings that had been built with little thought to planning or convenience, Paige realized, as she watched traffic try to navigate a confusing mix of side streets that jutted off the main road like little veins. Cars stopped in the middle of the road while their occupants chatted with passersby, and Paige marveled at the fact that nobody in the cars behind them seemed to get angry about it. If it had been California, horns would’ve been blaring. Instead, people seemed to wait patiently while those in the car ahead of them conducted their conversation and then moved on.

  Spying a wellness shop, Paige ducked inside, thinking that perhaps she’d pick up some essential oils or something to use as welcome gifts for the guests at the retreat. She’d already been toying around with the idea of a welcome basket and wanted to source a few items to get an idea of costs.

  Paige smiled at the pretty brown-haired woman who stood behind the counter. Moving to a row of wooden shelves decorated with hand-painted flowers, she took her time examining the various jars. Paige let the tension ease from her shoulders as she opened one body scrub to smell the vanilla coconut scent. She was at home here, among the softly playing music, heavenly scents, and natural health care options. Gathering a few items she liked, Paige brought them to the counter.

  “Hola. I…do you have a tab for Tranquila Inn here?”

  The woman’s smile dropped from her face, and she emphatically shook her head.

  “No, no. No Tranquila Inn.”

  “No tab or you won’t run a tab for them?”

  “No.” The woman shook her head again, concern crossing her pretty face. She obviously wanted the sale, but wouldn’t do so on credit.

  “How much?” Paige asked, the tension returning to her shoulders.

  Paige sighed when the woman quoted her a price. Looking at the items she’d gathered, she put back everything except for the body scrub.

  “What about this?”

  “Five. Cinco.” Sympathy lines crossed the woman’s face as she took Paige’s money.

  “Can I ask you why you don’t have a tab for Tranquila Inn? Is something wrong with the hotel?”

  The woman just looked at her blankly, and Paige realized she spoke limited English.

  “Right. Okay, thank you.” Smiling, Paige left the little shop, tucking her body scrub into her tote bag. For a moment, she just stood on the sidewalk, unsure of where to go or what to do. The heat pressed against her, and sweat led a sticky trail down her back to her underwear. Her shoulders dropped, and Paige drew in a shaky breath, reminding herself that she would get through this. Her record of survival thus far had been one hundred percent – Horatio’s cheating, losing her job, the scary plane ride, a ruthless scorpion attack, Jack’s immediate dismissal of her upon arrival...

  “You look like you could use a beer.”

  Paige turned to see Jack leaning against the wall of a shop, a cheeky grin on his face. How did the man manage to look so cool and collected in this heat? He’d thrown on a loose t-shirt with a surfboard design and his eyes were shaded by aviators.

  “You know what? I think you’re right. Except I’m fairly certain if I drink anything at all, I’ll never get that car that’s held together by duct tape home.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little duct tape. It fixes everything, you know.” Jack’s grin widened.

  “Uh-huh.” Paige nodded, unconvinced.

  “I’ll drive you home. I rode in with Luis anyway.”

  “How were you planning to get back?”

  “Taxi. Hitchhike.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “I hadn’t thought much of it.”

  “Hitchhike? Seems like an unnecessary risk.”

  “Says the woman who flew to an island with an unconfirmed employment offer.”

  “Touché.” Not that Paige needed to be reminded of her questionable decision-making skills.

  “So? Shall we have a drink? You look like you could use some refreshment.”

  “Is that a polite way of saying I’m a sweaty mess?” Paige nodded her thanks when Jack took the tote bag full of food from her shoulder.

  “It’s the Caribbean. Everyone sweats. You’ll get used to it.”

  “You keep saying that. Where are we going?”

  “A little local bar down the way. It’s not too far. Turn here.” Jack indicated the street ahead of them. “We’ll walk on the shady side.”

  “A small blessing,” Paige breathed.

  “How’s the foot?” Jack asked as he waved at a man turning churros at a little stand. The scent of cinnamon and sugar made her mouth water.

  “It’s better. Barely limping.”

  She kept quiet as Jack waved or nodded at people as they passed. It seemed like he knew everyone. In a matter of moments, they’d arrived at a thatched roof bar with a few rickety looking tables in front of it, situated directly across from the harbor.

  “Bar or table?”

  “Bar is fine,” Paige said, as the tables were still in the sun. She didn’t need to peel herself off of the chair when they left. Settling into a stool under the shaded thatch of the bar, Paige flapped the neck of her dress, trying to stir up some air movement.

  “You’ll get used to the humidity. I promise. Summers are hot here though, and nobody is really immune to it.”

  Jack held up two fingers and Paige didn’t even bother to tell him she didn’t like beer. Right then, she’d drink sewer water if it was cold. Well, maybe not that, but still…when the beers arrived in a little bucket of ice, Paige reached in and grabbed a cube to run down the back of her neck. The cold was intense against her skin, but immediately began to relieve some of the heat that pressed against her.

  “Why are the beers so tiny? They are like half the size of a bottle in the States.” Paige peered into the bucket.

  “So the beer stays cold as you drink it. Otherwise beer runs to warm real fast here.”

  “Ah.”

  “Cheers.” Jack tapped his beer to hers and Paige drank. It wasn’t half bad, she realized, and perhaps that was the missing component to enjoying beer – it just needed to be ice cold and she needed to be desperately hot.

  “Jack…what’s going on here? CeCe told me there would be tabs at the shops in town. But nobody would let me use them. Is it the language barrier?”

  “Yeah. That.” Jack pressed his lips together and looked away for a moment. Paige studied his face as he worked out what he was going to say. He might possibly be one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen – but in a rough and tumble sort of way. There were a lot of really go
od-looking men in California, but most of them had a polished sheen to them. Jack was all man with rough edges. He was like raw quartz compared to perfectly tumbled round quartz stones. Both were appealing in their own way.

  “Yes, that?” Paige pushed.

  “I’m doing my best to restore our reputation in town.” Jack finished a mini beer and reached for another.

  “Because the last coordinator stole?”

  “Partly.”

  It didn’t take long for Paige to realize the other problem.

  “CeCe?”

  Jack gave a curt nod.

  “Spending more than they have?”

  “It’s not even that. CeCe and Whit are loaded. It’s just that they are absent-minded. Or, if I’m being honest – irresponsible. It was why the last coordinator could steal so easily from us. However, unreliable doesn’t work well on an island that relies on word-of-mouth reputation for getting things done. The thing is…many people here… Well, they are working paycheck to paycheck. That cash you gave for your fruit? It goes straight home to pay the rent or pay for their family or extended family. Since I’ve taken over accounts, people are starting to trust us again, but it’s a slow process to restore our reputation. It’s not cheap to live on an island, and much is imported here. Housing prices can reflect that. Same with cars. You wonder why the Suzuki is strung together with bits and pieces?”

  “I’m guessing parts are hard to come by?”

  “Hard to come by and expensive. Sometimes parts take months to get here. You get used to it.” Jack shrugged.

  “I’m beginning to see that there is a lot to adjust to with island life.”

  “More than you can imagine. Welcome to the ride, sweets.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I might not be tall enough to ride this ride,” Paige said, keeping her tone light.

  Jack looked to where her feet swung from the bar stool, mirth in his eyes, before shaking his head and taking a long pull from his beer. “Looks like you’re on it either way.”

  “Lucky me,” Paige said, but shot Jack a smile to soften her words. “But in all seriousness, it is good for me to have a challenge to tackle. A bit of pressure is always something that keeps me in line. Forces me to focus. Hone in on what needs to get done.”