Page 25 of Paradise in Progress
As quickly as I pulled her onto my lap, she’s up and taking her place across from me as she snaps her belt into place.
“Are you feeling better?”
With a deep exhale, her eyes find mine again. A tight-lipped smile lines her pale pink lips, and she gives me a small nod as she fidgets with her pants. “I will be once we get wheels on the ground.”
“I never pegged you as afraid of flying. I figured you’d be used to it since you live two states away from your family.”
“I don’t make it home that often. Between college and then work, my trips home got few and far between. Plus, I’m from the Midwest. We drive everywhere.”
“I never understood that.”
“It’s because you have money, Golden Boy. Not all of us have the luxury of dropping a couple of thousand dollars on flights to go on vacation. If we wanted to go somewhere, we’d load up the minivan and drive to wherever we were going. Not like we went on many vacations.”
There’s a drop we feel in our stomachs, causing Kennedy to grip the armrest again as we start to land.
One skid.
Two skids.
And our wheels are on the ground.
I can hear her audible sigh as relief floods her system.
“We made it,” she whispers.
Thirty minutes later, Kennedy and I are in the back seat of a black town car as we make the long drive to the resort from the airport.I’m trying to read over files and emails as we go around hills and curves, making my focus a challenge. Kennedy has all but given up. She popped motion sickness medicine as soon as we landed. Her head has been on a swivel as we drive through various terrains of small towns and mountains.
She slides across her seat to the middle seat, our legs brushing, which she doesn’t acknowledge as she leans forward and points out the window. “Sir, can you stop up there?” she asks our driver.
His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror, and he nods. I try to get a better look at what has caught her eyes when I spot a small wooden building with a red roof. Open-sided patios line the space with picnic tables underneath. It’s a quaint local bar.
Our driver puts the car in park, and before he has a chance to shut off the ignition, Kennedy is jumping out of the backseat. I’m immediately opening my door and stepping out after her. The air is thick with humidity, and I feel the moisture gripping my dress shirt. With a glance over her shoulder, she winks before she’s strutting inside the bar.
The inside is much like what you’d find inside an American bar. Pub tables litter the space, with beer logos and novelty signs on the walls. A dark-stained bar takes up most of one side, with fridges of bottled beers and an older, dark-skinned woman stands behind it, her long black hair braided and piled on top of her head.
“Good afternoon.” A kind smile plasters across her face as she welcomes Kennedy into her bar.
“Hi,” Kennedy greets, climbing onto a bar stool across from the woman. “I’m Kennedy.”
“Nice to meet you, Kennedy. I’m Elysha. Welcome to my little slice of paradise.”
“You have a lovely bar.” I’m stuck, my feet barely inside the bar as the two women interact. Kennedy is all smiles with the stranger. A sudden pang of jealousy hits me as I observe the two, noting Kennedy has never given me the same warmth as she’s giving this woman.
I want to change that. For the next month, I want to show her I’m not the enemy. I never wanted us to feel like we were constantly competing. There’s more to me than this preconceived notion she’s painted me with. Yes, I was born with a silver spoon, but it hasn’t always been easy.
“Hey, Golden Boy.” Her voice cuts off my thoughts. “Come meet Elysha and order something to drink. Lighten up a little bit.”
Pointing to myself, I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Me, lighten up? You’re the one wound so tight.”
Her eyes roll as she turns her attention back to the woman. “See what I have to deal with. What’s your local beer?”
“You must try a Piton. It’s a pilsner lager beer that has a floral and hoppy aroma.”
“Sounds perfect.” Her smile is contagious as I make my way toward the woman. “Golden boy will have one too.”
Elysha turns to the coolers and pulls out two bottles. The golden liquid shines through the glass bottle. “What brings you two to the island?”
The bottles are placed in front of us, condensation immediately surrounding the glass. Kennedy’s smile drops a fraction. “We work for Nelson Signature.”
