Page 45 of The Oscar Escape
She shifted in her seat. This place was sounding a lot like a cult again.
“As a retired judge and the island’s acting magistrate, I decide what you need to do to atone for your transgressions. If you abide by my ruling, nothing will go on your permanent record.”
Aria straightened in her chair. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we take you to the mainland, bring you to the police station, and show them the security footage. Etta,” the judge said and waved over Mrs. Alden.
Mrs. Alden joined them with an eTablet in her hands. She tapped and scowled. “This video stuff is beyond me,” the woman muttered.
“Let me help,” Oscar offered, taking the device.
“I’m one of Havenmatch Island’s ferry captains,” Mrs. Alden said to her while Oscar worked on the tablet. “This is the footage from the camera on the boat.”
Aria’s stomach dropped. More terrible video. Super-freaking-terrific.
“I’ve got it working,” Oscar said and tapped play.
Aria peered at the grainy screen and watched herself cannonball into the harbor. “Can we speed this up?” she asked. It was damned painful to watch.
Oscar tapped the screen and selected double-time. Cartoonish in its quickness, she watched as Oscar jumped into the harbor after her and dragged her ass onto the beach. And then it got really interesting. Naked as the day she was born, she ran up the path toward the chocolate shop. She peered inside and danced around like she was at a nudist rave. Then, as Oscar had relayed, she’d launched a stone through the window. Next, the fast-forwarded version of herself reached into the store and proceeded to jam chocolates into her mouth. She turned toward the camera. Her cheeks bulged like a cocoa-obsessed chipmunk. After that, she scurried over to a bench—the precious island artifact. She climbed on top, raised her arms like she was pronouncing herself Queen of the World, then wobbled and fell as Oscar hurried over with the gray hoodie.
She wasn’t sure which was worse, her shenanigans on the island or her dance club disaster.
She tapped theXto close out the screen. “I get it. It’s quite incriminating.”
“Indeed, it is. However, Mrs. Elliott,” the judge continued, “on Havenmatch Island, we believe in second chances and redemption through serving others. We’ve got our fall festival coming up. Del and Etta are the leads on the planning committee. It’s a laborious job and takes up much of their time. They could use some help with the inn.”
She recalled the nineteenth-century couple on the flyer. “It’s the Love and Lobsters Festival. It’s in eight days. I saw the poster on the kiosk.”
The judge raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite observant for someone recovering from food poisoning.”
The man was trying to call bullshit on her bad-lobster story, but she didn’t bat an eyelash.
“That’s why,” the judge went on with the ghost of a grin, “I’m sentencing you to twelve days of community service. You’ll have a few days after the festival to help us clean up.”
Twelve days? Oh, hell no!
She didn’t have time for twelve days of community service. Her Denver homecoming concert was in thirteen. Twenty-four hours wasn’t enough time to prepare—not even close. It was one thing for her to shun the spotlight and remain hidden away with Oscar for three or even four days. Twelve was asking too much.
She could feel her wily eat-worms ways coming on. She narrowed her gaze. “That won’t work for me. Why don’t you let me make a donation? A donation isn’t a fine,” she sassed. And batten down the hatches. That was a bad move.
The judge frowned and his jowls engulfed his face. “You agree to the community service,Mrs. Elliott, or Del gasses up the ferry, and we escort you to the mainland. And I can promise you one thing.”
“And what’s that?” she shot back, not liking this man’s tone one bit.
“Things will get real very quickly. I’m sure with their high-tech police computers and databases, they’ll have no trouble retrieving your identification and charging you publicly.”
What was this man playing at? Did he recognize her? No, he would have said something. This had to be judge-talk to intimidate her into compliance. Still, she couldn’t deny that it would be catastrophic for her brand and her career if another epic meltdown hit the internet. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and noticed Oscar sharing another look with the Aldens.
Something was happening between the three of them.
What else had Oscar lied about?
“Mrs. Elliott,” the judge bellowed.
She ignored the trio and came to attention. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Do you agree to complete twelve days of community service by offering your talents to the island?”
