Page 66 of Here for a Good Time
A roller coaster of emotions plays out on Zwe’s face. His “Fuck” is drawn out on a breath.
I can’t believe we didn’t see this earlier. “She’s been talking about her cousins this whole time. What was it she said about that wedding? Nobody gets away with pissing off her and her cousins.”
“So who pissed her off? The resort management? But she said she got a good salary.”
“Maybe it’s someone she works with?” I venture. “She’s been talking a lot about guests being rude. Maybe there was a guest who was really shitty to her and her bosses didn’t back her up.”
“Fuck, and the thing with Antonio earlier.”
My insides feel like there’s an avalanche happening. “That’s why she volunteered to be the distraction first. She must’ve whispered something to them while her back was to us, and then when the supply boat came—”
“Which her cousins would’ve known was coming becauseshe’dhave given them a heads-up—”
“And while we were distracted by the boat, she made it look like she lost control of the situation and basically handed Antonio over.”
Zwe’s shaking his head, as furious as I am that we didn’t figure this out before. “The trail,” he says hoarsely. “She intentionally made us go in circles.”
We need to bring you back in one piece,she had said.
“Shewasright when she said she knows those trails blindfolded. Knows them so well in fact that she can lead us as far away as possible even in the dark,” I say. “And she brought up the supply boat so she could make us do a U-turn. She was never going to let us get to that village.”
“The zip-line tower was a trap.” Zwe scoffs in disbelief, looking like he could kill someone. “This whole time. Even if you hadn’t seen her ankle, we were trapped up there. Her cousins must’ve been on their way. You just figured it out before they arrived.”
“She shut me down when I was trying to figure it out earlier,” I say. Heat coils through me to the point where I’m on the verge of tears. “She gaslit me. I wouldn’t have made sense of it all perfectly, but if we’d kept talking about it, maybe I could’ve worked outsomeof the parts.”
“You were right. Fuck, you were right, and I—” He lets out a bitter laugh. “I should’ve believed you.”
Zwe’s figure starts to get blurry, and unable to covertly wipethem away, I blink off the tears. “You should’ve,” I say, not realizing until now that I’ve been carrying around the sting of that moment like a sharp splinter in the sole of my foot.
He opens his mouth, closes it without a sound. The air in the room somehow gets colder, goose bumps bristling the hairs on my arms and legs.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I know,” I tell him, my voice cracking as the full weight of the situation hits, an icy lake finally giving way. “Zwe… what if this is it? What if there’s no way out of this? Like, what if we’re all out of lives?”
“It’s not,” he says firmly, but I see the way he swallows an invisible lump.
“I want to see my parents again.” It sounds like a hollow prayer. “I want to go home and see my parents, and I want you to go home and see your parents, too. And…” I weigh whether or not to say it. Will uttering it be taken as a peace offering, a sign that we’re good, or stir the pot further? “And Julia,” I finish so softly that part of me is hoping he misses it.
I can’t tell if he catches it, because all he replies is, “We will.”
“You’re my best friend,” I say. As fucked up as all of this is, I suppose it’s a privilege to know in advance if you’re going to die, because at least then you can say your piece, every single thing you were ever afraid to say. Or almost every single thing. “I love you, and you’re my best friend, and I don’t want us to die with a weird argument hanging over our heads. I know I’ve been a terrible friend these past few months, and I know I don’t deserve—”
“Stop.” I sniffle, but do stop. “We’re going to get the hell out of this place, because, if nothing else, I refuse to accept that this is how it all ends, with you dying in a shirt that saysBIG DICK ENERGY LEADS TO BIG DICK INJURY.”
I let out a loud, snotty, disgusting laugh at that, and now I don’t know if I’m crying out of fear, or because I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to havehimas my best friend.
“I love you,” I repeat, feeling the words more acutely than I ever have any time I’ve said them.
“You know I love you, too,” he says. “We’re going to be okay. Here, and after.”
“How?” I ask.
“Because we just happen to have the most creative, perceptive, astounding writer of our generation in the room with us.”
It’s cheesy to the point of clichéd, but it still elicits an equally cheesy grin out of me. “Thank you. But I don’t think my job as a person who professionally makes up tough scenarios with incredibly raised stakes that imaginary people have to get out of by dealing with both internal and external obstacles is going to be quite the thing that gets us out of this predicament. Again, truly appreciate your unwavering support. But if this whole time you’re a secret spy or trained assassin, or I dunno, have been taking bodyguard lessons, now would be a great time to reveal that.”
“Sorry, I was shortlisted for the ‘trained assassin’ role but in the end they decided to go with someone else.”
