Page 9 of Beach Bodies

‘Oh! Yeah. Fine. I’m just rattled from…’No! Stop!‘The key card. They’re… a little different from last year. I can’t seem to get the door open!’ And then I tack on another laugh, because at this point, why not.

‘Here, let me,’ she says, and of course, the door opens right away for her. She gives me a sympathetic little grin. ‘So I guess you’ve worked here before?’

‘Fifth year.’ I wedge my foot in the door to keep it open.

‘Wow! That’s commitment.’

‘You have no idea.’

She smiles uncertainly. Am I coming across too intense?

‘So… have you met your roommate?’ I say quickly. Her expression lightens.

‘Yeah, we both got here beginning of June. Her name is Bridget, from the UK. She’s on a gap year. She’s been working her way through the Caribbean getting jobs at all the best resorts, isn’t that awesome? Have you met your roomie?’

‘No, she missed her flight. I’m covering for her on the beach in about an hour and a half.’

‘Well, if you’re interested, a bunch of us are pooling our money to charter a boat Friday night to Saint Vitalis—’

That’s the next island over. The Las Vegas of the Sea, according to the advertisements. My memories of it from last year are quite vivid– the liquid cling of the little dress Carli Elle lent me, the booming music as the boat skimmed over the water, the way her gold cowboy hat was tipped over her face. She was at the Riovan for the four-week intensive, and though I normally would never think to befriend a guest– especially not a famous pop star who undoubtedly valued her privacy– we’d discovered an unlikely bond in CalumetHeights, where she lived with an aunt for a year after her mom OD’d.Of all the trailer parks in all the world, she laughed. The rest is history.

That night, her manager had scheduled her to do a ‘surprise’ performance at the Mambotel. A few key TikTokers had been alerted in advance, and she was hoping to go viral. When Carli asked me to come along, it was a no-brainer to say yes.

The morning after, there was an emergency staff meeting. My head was pounding; I’d only slept for a couple of hours, and I was regretting the second Long Island Iced Tea I’d guzzled on the way back.

Vic was pale, serious. ‘There was an accident in one of the rooms last night. Rest assured that it’s being investigated. Do not talk to the press. Do not talk about it with guests. If anyone asks questions, say, “no comment” or send them to me. Understood?’

For a few days, confusion reigned. The Head of Maintenance was fired. Audrey, the VP of Branding, either quit or was fired. The elusive Mr Thorpe, owner of the conglomerate the Riovan is part of, made an appearance and talked to the staff about discretion and trust. I’m assuming island officials were bought off and the appropriate palms greased, because within two days, all signs of the accident had disappeared and the investigation was closed.

By the time the story hit the press, it had been sanitized, as is so often the case for celebrity deaths.Michael Johnson, 54, Manager of Grammy Award-Winning Artist Carli Elle, Found Dead in Hotel Room.If you didn’t know better, you’d assume it was drugs or suicide. A tabloid ‘exposé’ ran a fewdays later.An anonymous source says that Johnson, known in the business as ‘Mr Mic’, scheduled Carli Elle to perform, but declined to accompany his client, in favour of a ‘quiet night to myself’. The source revealed that Johnson had been in a depressive downswing…They ran some pictures of Carli onAmerican Idolwhere she got her start, she and Michael holding their first Grammy together, and Carli on the yacht on her way to the Mambotel. As luck would have it, I’m in that last picture, kind of behind Carli, laughing. Not ideal, I know. At least my image is blurry and dark enough that only one reporter ever found me. I blocked the guy’s number, flagged his emails as spam, and told myself that it was over.

‘I know all about Saint Vitalis,’ I say, unwittingly massaging my temple with two fingers.

‘Oh, right!’ Hannah laughs. ‘This is all old hat to you, isn’t it? Well. The Mambotel is throwing this massive party. There’s a rumour that Adam Levine is supposed to do a surprise show.’

‘Carli Elle performed there last year,’ I blurt out without meaning to.

‘What? I love her! Did you get to see her?’

‘Yeah.’Shut up, Lily!I chastise myself.Stop bringing up the very thing you want everyone to forget!‘She was staying at the Riovan.’

‘Oh my god! Is she as down to earth as she seems?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘Did you ever talk to her? I’d be so tempted to ask for an autograph…’

‘No,’ I lie, though something perverse in me wants to say,Yeah, and you‘ll never believe what she confided in me.Thisis not where I make the classic mistake of giving people hints about what I’ve done because I need everyone to know how clever I am. This is where I shut the hell up.

Hannah pouts. ‘Boo. This year all we have is that guy from Harvest Moon. Watch out. He’s handsy.’ Ugh. ‘But you should totally come Friday!’

‘Thanks. I’ll think about it.’

‘For sure. Just keep it on the DL… heading off to party island isn’t exactlyon-brand.’ Hannah smirks. ‘But we should be allowed to blow off steam on our day off, right?’

‘Totally.’

‘I’d better get going.’ Hannah checks her bulky, waterproof watch. ‘Nice meeting you!’

---