Page 83 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Because the universe needs more dogs with degrees and fewer hands-on solutions to real-world problems.
Other guests trickle onto the deck, and my eyes do an automatic sweep. I’m scanning for Bryce without meaning to. It’s muscle memory—like checking your mirrors while driving or looking both ways before jaywalking.
Gavin appears with Fiona welded to his arm, and they’re giving off “You Too Can Be Effortlessly Wealthy” seminar vibes. My brother’s rocking a crisp, ivory linen suit. He’s handsome, charming, and confident as hell.
Fiona beams beside him, her cream-colored crochet bikini top complemented by a matching jacket and a form-fitting maxi skirt. Her accessories are minimal but flawless—thin gold chains and delicate hoop earrings that glint beautifully in the sunlight.
Still no sign of Bryce. I’m imagining him overheating on the dock in his wool suit, having absorbed zero lessons from yesterday’s jungle heatstroke disaster.
“Hana! Darling!” Fiona glides with the grace of a swan.
“Oh my gosh! You’re a real-life sea goddess!” Hana squeals. “And such a trendsetter dressed in vintage. That gorgeous piece is from last season, isn’t it? You look so effortlessly fabulous!”
“How sweet of you to say,” Fiona purrs. “I thought re-wearing something understated would be appropriate for our little nautical adventure. I didn’t want to outshine the ocean.”
“And Gavin,” Hana coos. “Your outfit is so distinguished, but also casual, but then daring at the same time! On my fiancé‘s yacht, he wears this old captain’s hat, and with his white beard, he looks like a Civil War fisherman. But Mother says I can’t leave him in the sun too long, or he’ll shed his skin from head to toe—like a molting snake!”
There’s a mental image.
Hana may toss compliments like confetti, but they seem genuine. Is she a little clueless? Sure. Brainwashed by her controlling parents? Maybe. But she’s growing on me, and she’s my best bet to getting dirt on Fiona.
So today, Petra Brinkman plays… the heiress bestie.
“Hana’s totally right,” I say. “You two are like a yacht magazine cover story.”
“Makes sense,” Gavin replies. “We had our first date on a yacht.”
Hana squeals. “My fiancé and I had our first date on his yacht too! We started our prenup paperwork right there over dinner! Well, it was split pea soup. My fiancée purees most of his meals. His doctor says anything chunkier might ‘overwhelm his aging jaw muscles.’”
I hide my laugh(this poor girl). “That’s… sweet. What about you, Fiona? Any cute prenup signing stories? Did you and Gavin celebrate with champagne after dotting all the i’s of who will get the private island?”
Fiona’s eyes narrow and her lips flatten, as if I just dropped a threat.What the fuck?
Hana giggles. “Oh my gosh, yes! Marriage starts and ends with paperwork. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Fiona? My prenup includes a ‘no discussing his ex-wives’ clause. If he mentions wife number one, I get a girls’ trip. I love traveling, so let him complain about her taking half his first billion. It’s a win-win!”
The look of horror on Fiona’s face is a dead giveaway that I’m on to something.
I slap on my best pageant smile and press further. “So spill! Tell us your prenup situation. You guys have it all worked out? Any fun clauses, like if my bro works on Christmas, you get to spank him with a monogrammed paddle?”
“Well, sis, prenups are complicated, but if you must know, we’re still—”
“Gav-Gav. We agreed that’s our personal husband and wife affairs.”
“You’re right, Fi. That’s Mr. and Mrs. talk.” He kisses her cheek. “Petra, have a minute? I need updates on the wedding logistics plus a few other business details.”
Fiona sighs. “Okay. But after this, no more work. You promised.”
He gives her a nod, then leads me away from the others while Hana and Fiona initiate a selfie marathon. If he thinks I’m letting the whole conversation die, he has another thing coming. My Fiona radar is a car alarm going off in a bad neighborhood(I should know!).
“Have you seen Bryce?” he asks, scanning the deck. “He’s not usually late.”
“He’s a big boy with a family bank account that solves everything. If he’s running behind, he’ll just helicopter in like the dramatic billionaire he is.”
“Petra.” Gavin’s voice takes on thatdadedge I hate. “I know busting Bryce’s balls is your go-to hobby, picking on the rich guy or whatever, but do me a favor. Cut him some slack.”
“Why would I do that?”
Gavin steps closer and whispers, “Listen, this has to stay between us, okay? Bryce and Amanda split up right before this trip.”
