She went up to him. She knew she had a huge smile pasted on her face, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t resist doing a little ballerina twirl as she approached, making the full skirt of her silk dress flare out. He was twisting a glass beaded with moisture in one hand, but when he saw her, he quickly set it down on the wooden bar. He inhaled as she stood in front of him. There was a pause as they both looked at each other. “So, what do you think?” he asked, gesturing at the scene around him.
“It looks perfect,” she said.
A big grin lit his face. He stepped forward and took her arm. “Come here. I want to show you everything.” He placed her hand on the crook of his elbow as they slowly strolled along the perimeter of the pool deck. The bartender and waiters lounging against the fence looked up and smiled as they passed. The breeze lifted Celeste’s hair and caressed the back of her neck. She only half listened as Nick pointed out the bar, the drinks table, the catered food laid out in long rows. She was very aware of the scratchy wool of his suit sleeve under her hand, and the warmth of his arm underneath. As he turned toward her for a second, she inhaled. Cedar. Celeste stared at Nick’s face as he described dealing with the catering chef. His blue eyes, so piercing in the sunlight, looked dark and velvety in the twilight. His white teeth flashed as he spoke.
“Mmm.” Celeste nodded in agreement, even though she’d heard hardly anything he’d said. She moved a step closer to him and hugged his arm a little. All of a sudden, Nick stopped talking. They locked eyes. Then, without thinking, Celeste lifted her face toward Nick’s lips. He tilted his head down to hers.
Suddenly, the clash of dishes at the bar woke Celeste from her spell. She looked around. The first guests were trickling in, some still clutching glasses from the other party. Celeste and Nick could hear little “oohs” of appreciation as they took in the scene. “I can’t believe it’s really starting!” she whispered excitedly.
Celeste’s parents came through the gate and hurried over to Celeste and Nick. The Saunderses followed close behind.
“Celeste, Nick,” her father said. “This all looks fantastic. I have to say, you two really rose to the occasion.” He clapped Nick on the shoulder and gave Celeste a squeeze.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Saunders concurred. “Excellent work, both of you. We had wondered if giving Nick his own movie screening was the right thing to do, but after seeing how you both have pulled this together, I’m very happy we did.”
Nick beamed. Guests were pouring through the gate now, laughing and talking. Sloan started the band on a fast, up-tempo song, and some people began dancing in an open space on one side of the deck.
“All right, we need to circulate,” Mr. Saunders said. The four parents wandered off in different directions, all with welcoming, friendly smiles fixed on their faces.
Celeste grabbed Nick’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “The screening’s not going to start for another half hour. Let’s go sample the dessert bar before all the raspberry cheesecake is gone.”
“Okay. What the—?!” Nick’s reply was lost as he stumbled backwards. He made a choking sound as a hand spun him around by the collar of his shirt.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend, you piece of shit!” Travis bellowed, shoving Nick to the ground. He reeked of beer. Celeste could almost see the waves of drunkenness pouring off him. “Get up!” Nick staggered to his feet, rubbing his neck, and Travis drew his fist back to punch him.
“Travis!” Celeste screamed and grabbed his arm. He didn’t even pause, just socked Nick in the jawbone. Nick staggered but didn’t fall and, launching himself through the air, flung himself on Travis. Both of them fell heavily to the deck, cracking one of the teak boards under the force of their combined weight. Celeste screamed again before thinking in the back of her mind that she shouldn’t be attracting more attention to the fight than it was already getting.
Nick and Travis rolled over and over on the pool deck, punching each other as hard as they could. An interested crowd was gathering around them, people still clutching drinks as if they were watching the Rumble in the Jungle. Nick managed to get on top of Travis and, straddling him, punched him hard in the face. Travis groaned and then heaved himself upright, grabbing Nick’s shirt in both hands. He yelled. Celeste could see where they were heading—right for the giant white screen perched at one end of the deck. She closed her eyes and heard a crash and a whooshing noise.
When she finally dared to peek through her eyelids, the screen was gone. Only a white tangle of vinyl lay on the ground, with a large, thrashing lump underneath it. As everyone watched, the lump began moving and slowly, two heads emerged from the edge. Nick and Travis struggled to their feet. A murmur ran through the silent crowd as Celeste’s father stepped forward. For a long, painful moment, he studied the two figures in front of him, Nick, dripping blood from his nose and Travis cradling his elbow. Then he turned around, and with a brilliant smile, waved his hands at the crowd.
“So sorry about this, everyone,” he said calmly, his voice carrying even to the farthest gawkers on the edge of the crowed. “We were concerned you all might get bored before the screening, so we arranged this little extra—ah—entertainment.” He smiled and everyone laughed. “Please enjoy the rest of the party.”
People started turning away, talking to one another and glancing curiously at Nick and Travis, who still had not moved. Celeste’s stomach was churning and her hands were icy cold. Her dad’s nose was white around the edges and the back of his neck was red, but those were the only outward signs of his anger. To any other observer, he looked completely relaxed. Celeste could see the Saunderses over her father’s shoulder, their faces set stonily.
Mr. Tippen turned to the group. “Why don’t we all step into the office for a moment?” he said calmly. Mr. Saunders nodded his head slightly in response. The parents turned and wove their way through the crowd, with Nick, Travis, and Celeste following behind. Celeste felt like she was the one who had been in a fight. Her mind was numb, except for the vague feeling that she might throw up at any moment. Travis bumped her arm as they walked, and she jerked away. She couldn’t even look at him, much less bear the thought of him touching her. Nick walked right behind. Celeste could hear his ragged breathing. She threw him a quick glance and he raised his eyes briefly to meet hers. To her shock, he winked at her. Celeste whipped her head around.
Mr. Tippen let everyone file in front of him into the little, cramped office and then firmly shut the door. Celeste held her breath as he turned to face the assembled group: Mr. and Mrs. Saunders standing next to the desk, Celeste’s mom on a straight chair, Nick slouched in the corner, and Travis on the sofa. Slowly, Mr. Tippen strode over and stood in front of Travis.
“Well, Travis,” he said quietly. “You’ve used up your three strikes this time—and then some. Surely this was the finest display of immaturity that Pinyon has ever seen.” His voice remained even, but Celeste could see his eyes flashing. Travis stared straight ahead at the wall. Celeste wasn’t sure just how drunk he still was. Mr. Tippen went on. “If you haven’t ruined Pinyon’s first film festival, you’ve certainly tried your best.” He paused and Celeste caught her breath. There was something about the deadly calm tone that was far worse than yelling. “Naturally, this is the last time I ever expect to see you on Pinyon premises,” he said. “Please leave now.”
Travis started to get up from the sofa, but before he could, Mr. Tippen turned to Celeste. Travis dropped back on the cushions as if he’d been shoved. Celeste cringed as her father’s gaze fell on her with a thunk. “Celeste,” he said. “You have shown spectacularly poor judgment in your constant defense of this young man in the past. At your urging, I agreed to allow him to work at Pinyon this summer and I did not fire him after his first fight with Nick here. I hold you—”
“Wait!” Nick jumped up from his chair. All heads turned toward him.
There was a moment’s silence. Then Mr. Tippen said, “What is it, Nick?”
Nick looked at Cel
este. “Uh, I have to make a confession.” He was sitting at the very edge of the sofa, his back straight and his hands clasped between his knees.
More silence. Celeste realized she was holding her breath.
Suddenly, Nick’s posture relaxed. He sprawled back against the cushions in his old cocky way and stretched his legs out in front of him. A lazy grin spread across his face. “I wouldn’t be a man if I let someone else take the blame.”
Mr. Tippen glanced quickly at the Saunderses. “What are you saying, Nick?” Mr. Saunders asked, his voice rising slightly.
“Dude, it wasn’t Travis.”
Mr. Saunders blinked.
“It was me who put the pepper in the old lady’s food.”
No one spoke.
“Hey, she deserved it,” Nick said into the silence. “She was way too annoying.”
“But why pepper, Nicky?” Mrs. Saunders whispered. Her face was white.
Nick shrugged casually. He didn’t look at Celeste. “Why not? We had all the VIP stuff written down—all the food allergies and stuff were on there.”
Celeste shook her head. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Nick throw away everything they’d worked on? Her brain was whirling. Then in her mind’s eye, she saw Nick strolling across the room to talk with Travis and his buddies at the cocktail party. Was that what he had been doing? Plotting out a stupid, stupid, immature prank? She stared at Travis. He was sitting up in his seat, his eyes wide.
“Travis?” Celeste said weakly. He clamped his mouth shut and stared at a corner of the room. Nick watched him for a second and then went on.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I told Travis and the rest of the guys to try some of this wicked vodka I got from my friend, and I guess it was too much for him. The fight wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for all that booze. I was just having some fun. So, it wasn’t Travis’s fault at all—or Celeste’s.”
Celeste could see Nick trying to catch her eye. She shot him one furious glare and then stared straight ahead.
“Oh.” Mr. Tippen looked momentarily thrown off balance. He glanced at the Saunderses. It was a different situation if the son of his famous guests was causing trouble. “Er—”
Mr. Saunders stood up. He turned to Celeste’s parents. “Let me apologize on behalf of my son,” he said tightly. “His mother and I are shocked and ashamed.” He turned to Nick. “Go home,” he ordered. “The screening is canceled. Go back to the guesthouse right now. We’ll discuss your punishment later.”
Nick looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach all over again. The blood drained from his face. He opened his mouth but his father exploded. “Go!” he yelled, his composure gone. Nick scurried to the door and wrenched it open. It whooshed shut behind him.
Celeste wasn’t sure if she should scream or just start crying. Nick must have done it. He must have never even cared about the screening, or he never would have risked losing everything. Her father harrumphed and cleared his throat a few times.
“Well, all right,” he said. Slowly, he sank down to sit behind his desk, moving as if he were a very old man. “All right, then,” he repeated. “I suppose you may go, Travis. Celeste, go with him. I, ah—well, good night.” He waved his hand at them.
Out in the mostly empty lobby, Celeste turned to Travis. She was about to apologize for suspecting him of the prank and blaming him for the fight, when she saw the silly expression on his face and the glazed look in his eyes. “Travis,” she said, leaning in close, “are you still drunk?”
He swayed on his feet slightly and shook his head a few times. “Hey, babe, no, I’m fine.” He tried to grab her but missed and almost pitched forward onto the tile floor. Celeste just managed to catch him around the waist. Together, they staggered several steps forward and back, like the world’s worst dance partners, before Travis finally got his balance.
“Oh my God,” Celeste said. “Travis, get a hold of yourself. Come on.” She pushed open the doors and wrangled her two-hundred-pound boyfriend out onto the path. She draped his arm over her shoulder and steered him toward the staff quarters. She could hear the remnants of the ruined party in the background. Travis almost took several dives into the bushes at the side of the paths, but after a few tense minutes, they made it to her parents’ bungalow. “Here,” Celeste panted, unlocking the door and shoving Travis inside. “You can sleep in my room tonight. Mom and Dad won’t be back until late.”
“Yeah!” Travis mumbled, his eyes already drooping. He swiped at her. “Sounds good, babe….” His voice trailed off and his knees buckled. Celeste grabbed him again.
“Travis! Do not go to sleep right here. You have to get down the hall.”
Travis headed straight for the bed once in Celeste’s room. Still wearing his shoes, he collapsed on the flowered comforter and immediately fell asleep. Celeste flicked on the bedside lamp and stood staring at him for a long time. He was lying on his back, and his lips flapped like two sausages as he snored. He smelled of sweat and stale liquor.
Finally, Celeste turned the light off and went into the bathroom. The bright yellow light of the little room seemed calm and sane after the craziness of the evening. All her bottles and jars were neat and straight on the clean counter, and her own fluffy towels hung on the towel rack. She turned on the taps of the bathtub full blast and dumped in some bath powder. Fragrant, foamy water started rising in the tub.
She stripped off the creased, sweaty silk dress and climbed into the warm water. She lay back and spread a washcloth over her eyes. Maybe if she just relaxed, she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she had trusted Nick and he had completely betrayed her. She clenched her fists on the side of the tub as this thought flooded over her and shook her head. How could he have done this?
She cringed as she thought of everything she’d told Nick about her writing, and the resort, and her parents. She’d thought that he was more than just an arrogant pretty boy, but obviously she should have trusted her first instincts. All he cared about was amusing himself and making trouble between her and Travis. Celeste closed her eyes and let the warm bathwater lap over her body. The festival had just begun, but it didn’t matter. Her summer was already over.
Chapter Twenty-five
The rest of the festival was uneventful. Celeste played the role of owners’ daughter perfectly, seeing to guest requests and smiling politely for hours at a time. She hadn’t seen Travis since leaving him to sleep off his hangover in her bed while she returned to work four days ago. She assumed Nick was under house arrest in his parents’ villa, since she hadn’t seen him since he left her father’s office. Despite not having to face him, she hadn’t been able to shake a near-constant headache.
The day after the festival’s closing party, Celeste woke up at ten. Her head was pounding and the sight of her crumpled pink silk dress still sitting in the corner of her room didn’t help. Devon’s plane was set to arrive at eleven. Celeste briefly considered texting and telling her to get a cab. She didn’t really feel like talking to anyone. But maybe a ride to the airport would clear her head. Celeste rolled off the bed and threw on the first jeans and T-shirt her hand touched.
Outside, the light morning breeze played over her skin and the sun was touching the red azaleas lining the path. Celeste glanced at her watch and walked a little faster. Suddenly, she bumped straight into Nick, who was struggling down the path, laden with two big suitcases.
Celeste gasped in surprise and jumped back. Nick stopped short. His face was creased and puffy. “You look terrible,” Celeste said involuntarily.
“My parents are sending me back to L.A.,” he said woodenly. “The car’s waiting for me.”
Celeste felt anger boiling up inside her. “Good,” she said harshly. Nick winced. Celeste brushed past him. She could feel his forlorn gaze between her shoulder blades but she refused to turn around. She had no desire to waste one more second on someone who had played her all summer and then wasted her time and hard work on something he’d never cared about
anyway.
At the airport, Celeste stood on her tiptoes, trying to see past the crowd waiting by the baggage claim. A lot of people were coming up the escalator, but there was still no sign of Devon. It seemed like two years since she’d left, instead of a few weeks. Suddenly, she heard her name.
“Celeste!” Devon yelled, and flung her arms around her friend.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re back!” Celeste said. “I missed you.” Devon was wearing a tank top with the Scottish flag on it tucked into skintight black jeans, and stiletto ankle boots. “You look like a member of the Clash.”
“I can’t believe I’m back either,” Devon replied, turning to survey the baggage carousel, now jammed with luggage. “I need a Diet Coke, like, right now. Scotland is amazing, but they’re way too into tea. Hey, there’s mine!” She muscled her way through the crowd and snared an enormous black duffel bag.
“So,” Devon said a few minutes later, as the girls wound their way through a concrete maze of sidewalks and blast barriers on their way to the parking garage. “I’m dying to know how the film festival went. Did you meet any celebrities?” She cast a sideways glance at Celeste.
“Oh, um, I can’t remember.” Celeste managed to avoid looking at her friend by scanning the aisles of parked cars. “So, uh, what was the food like there?”
“Celeste! What is going on? I can tell something’s up,” Devon said. She tossed her bag into the backseat of the Civic before climbing into the front and settling back on the cracked leather. Celeste got in and slammed the door. She turned the ignition and then sat for a minute, her hand on the gearshift, staring through the windshield. Devon tactfully gazed out the window at the side of the car parked next to them. Then Celeste threw the car into reverse and started maneuvering out of the parking space. She heaved a giant sigh. “You know, the whole thing makes me want to puke when I even think about it, Dev,” she said.
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