“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.”
Chapter Seventeen
The rays from the morning sun made their
way across Trista’s bed and onto her face, waking her up. Lazily, she stretched her arms and legs and inhaled the aroma of coffee. Even three floors up, she could smell the delicious breakfast blend that her sister was brewing. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw it was almost seven thirty. They didn’t get in from their flight until after midnight. Trista was surprised that her sister was up this early. She usually wasn’t an early riser. Grabbing her robe from the bathroom, Trista plodded downstairs to see what Nicolette was up to.
“Are you ready to go?” Nicolette asked, pouring fat-free milk into a huge bowl of Rice Krispies cereal.
“Go where?” Trista mumbled, still not quite awake. She headed straight for the Keurig and started to brew her own cup of coffee. Selecting a K-cup of Jet Fuel, appropriately named for its amount of caffeine, she popped it into the machine and waited.
“I’m looking for a new place today,” Nicolette reminded her.
“Oh yeah.” Trista looked in the fridge for the coffee creamer, hoping Lupe remembered to buy some. She found a large bottle of French Vanilla creamer and wrapped her fingers around it. “I didn’t know we were getting started this early.”
“Early bird catches the worm. Or in this case, gets the best deal on a piece of property.”
“You sound just like Dad.” Trista caught the look on her sister’s face. “Okay, okay. Can I at least get dressed and drink my coffee?”
“Sure. Make it snappy.”
After throwing on a pair of jeans and a black crochet tunic, Trista met her sister downstairs forty-five minutes later. Nicolette was waiting impatiently, briefcase in one hand and iPhone in the other. Trista opened the door that led to the garage and pushed the button for the garage door to open.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” Trista said for the third time as she scooted in to the passenger seat of her sister’s Range Rover.
“I want to do this. It’s long overdue.” Nicolette carefully pulled out of the driveway.
“So what are we looking at?” Trista took a sip of her coffee, trying to clear the morning cobwebs from her brain. It was her second cup of the morning. She still had vacation brain, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Nicolette handed her a sheaf of papers from a folder that was hidden between the driver’s seat and console. “Three condos and a townhome. Shouldn’t take too long. They are all located in Alys Beach.”
Alys Beach was a quick fifteen-minute drive from Blue Mountain Beach. Located on the same beach highway, it was known to locals and tourists as “30-A,” a thirty-mile stretch of beach highway that started in Dune Allen Beach and ended at Inlet Beach, with over fourteen beach towns in between, including Blue Mountain Beach and Alys Beach.
“Does Dad know?”
“That I’m moving out? Yeah, we talked about it a few days ago.” Nicolette gave a quick look at her sister. “Actually, it was his idea.”
Trista kept a smile on her face, despite the obvious zinger that Nicolette just threw at her. Nicolette didn’t tell her that when they were in the Bahamas. This being her dad’s idea was a shocker. She wished her dad would’ve talked to her about this as well.
Nicolette pulled into a complex called Palm Dunes Villas. It was a small row of beachfront townhomes that were off-white stucco with pale-blue roofs. A swimming pool and tennis court were situated to the left of the complex and surrounded by a tall, white fence.
“This is the only townhome complex nearby that has a tennis court. Plus it’s a short drive to my office.” Nicolette took the file from her sister and exited the car. Trista followed suit. “I know the listing agent. She’s a big bitch and is still sore with me for selling a beachfront parcel to one of her former clients, but I think I can get them down on the price a bit. It’s been listed for over four months with no offers.”
Trista wasn’t surprised about Nicolette taking away someone else’s client. She was known in the local real estate market as a barracuda, like her father. She watched as her sister walked up to the front door, entered a code in the lockbox and retrieved a key. They walked into the villa.
“This unit has views of the gulf from all three levels. The bottom has a guest bedroom and bath. Also a rec room, but I think I’m going to gut it and make it an office.” Nicolette turned to face her sister. “What do you think?”
Trista looked at the worn furniture, the pool table, and foosball game in the center of the rec room. “What about all the furniture?”
“This was a rental, so it’s really worn. I’ll donate everything to Goodwill.” Nicolette ran her hand around the granite countertop that covered a wet bar beneath it. “I’ll keep the small kitchenette down here, but get rid of everything else. New paint, flooring, cabinets, and furniture.”
Trista nodded and followed her sister to the second level. She was impressed by her sister’s ability to take a unit that needed a lot of work like this one and make it into something new and beautiful.
“This level, as you can see, has the kitchen and living room on one end and a master suite on the other. I’m going to gut the kitchen and put in Silestone countertops and a nice tile backsplash. The living room walls need painting. And the master suite I’m going to use as another guest bedroom.”
“What about the other two condos we are seeing? It seems like you have your heart set on this place.”
“This is my first choice. It’s a little out of my price range, but like I said, I think I can get them down some.”
“How much?” Trista asked.
“One point six.”
Trista knew that would probably be a stretch for Nicolette. She didn’t exactly know what her finances were; she knew her sister made good money selling real estate. But she also knew Nicolette put almost all the money she made back into investments. Her money was tied up in real estate, just like their father’s was. Together, they owned several rental houses and apartment complexes.
“I want to pay cash obviously, and I may have to sell some things to do it.” Nicolette started up to the third level. “I think one point one would be a good starting price to negotiate.”
“That’s five hundred off asking. Think they’ll go that low?”
Nicolette smiled at her sister. “I’m a good negotiator.”
The third level held a large open space that had breathtaking views of the Gulf of Mexico. It was not unlike Trista’s bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sliding glass door that led out onto a balcony. Four pairs of bunk beds lined the walls, and there was a space currently used as play area with a mounted flat-screen television, a Nintendo Wii system, a bookcase filled with children books, video games, and DVDs. Scattered around the floor were several colorful beanbag chairs.
“I’m going to turn this area into a master suite.” Nicolette led her to the bathroom. “The contractor said he could add considerable space to the bath, and we could add a walk-in steam shower, claw foot tub, heated floors, heated towel racks, his and hers vanities, a separate make-up table, and under-cabinet lighting.”
“That would be beautiful,” Trista said. That was almost the exact spa bathroom she had now. “How much would renovations cost you?”
“Around one fifty.”
“One hundred fifty thousand dollars?” Trista asked, balking at the price.
“Right.”
“Furniture?” Trista asked.
“I figure another hundred thousand.”
Trista tried to think of a way she could help without offending her sister. She knew that Nicolette wouldn’t allow any hand-outs from her. “Your birthday is coming up soon. Why don’t I buy the furniture for your gift? Kind of like a housewarming gift plus birthday present?”
“For the whole house?”
“Sure, why not?”
Nicolette chewed on her thumbnail, considering her sister’s generous offering. “How about just the downstairs? I’m not even sure what kind of furniture I want to buy yet.”
Trista thought it was better than nothing. She really wanted to help
her sister, and if buying a few pieces of furniture would help, then that is what she would do. “Okay. Just let me know what you decide.”
Nicolette was focused on her iPhone. “There’s one more listing I want to show you.”
“Why are we looking at another condo? This one is obviously perfect for you. We’ll make it happen.”
“I just want another option if this falls through.”
Trista laughed. “It’s not going to fall through. You’re one of the best real estate negotiators around.”
Nicolette looked up from her phone and smiled brightly. “You’re right.” She took another look around at the views from the living room area. “It’s perfect for me.”
“Write it up,” Trista said, following her sister to the front door. “If you need help—”
Nicolette waved her off. “I’m good. How about some lunch?” As soon as Nicolette opened the door, Trista saw a familiar face. Riker was standing by his truck with a tool belt on his waist. He wore a tight white t-shirt that showed every single muscle in his arms and chest. A pair of blue jeans and cowboy boots completed his ensemble. He was sexy without even trying. Their eyes locked immediately.
“James!” Nicolette said, rushing up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you could make it.”
“What’s going on here?” Trista said, confused.
“Your sister asked me to take a look at this place.”
“You’re the contractor?” Trista asked, looking at Nicolette. She didn’t even realize that Nicolette was speaking to Riker again after their last heartfelt dinner, where Nicolette had returned home crying. Apparently everything was kosher between them now.
“Well, I’m…” Riker looked between the sisters, not sure what he had gotten himself into.
“I just asked him to take a look at structure. See if everything is sound. With houses on the beach, you never know,” Nicolette explained. She gave Riker a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’re going to use some of his friends who are subcontractors to fix up the place.”
Riker had once told Trista that he was a licensed general contractor, but he’d mentioned that the work wasn’t really his cup of tea. He really enjoyed bartending at the Liar’s Club. Less stressful, he’d said. But he never said he was helping her sister with renovations.
Sunkissed Page 9
