Page 31 of Playing With Matches
And here we have it. The would-be rom-com moment. Forced proximity it is.
But beggars can’t afford to be choosers, and a multi-bedroom deluxe suite sounds a lot better than the hostel.
“Sure,” I say. “At this point, all I care about is a hot shower and a bed.” The mud is starting to drop off me in chunks as it dries. I’m leaving a trail.
“Great, let me just make a call to make sure it’s okay with her. If she’s cool with this, I’ll let her know we’re on our way,” Rob says. He pulls out his phone and walks down the path. I can see him smiling and laughing as he chats with her. A moment later he returns, giving me two thumbs up.
“All’s well, that ends well!” he says. “It’ll probably make things simpler in the end anyways, since you two will pretty much have the same filming schedule. I know she seems a little kooky, but she’s ok.
“Interesting,” I murmur distractedly.
On the way to Isla’s suite, I apologize profusely to the golf cart driver for the mess I’m making. Rob reaches into his bag and hands me a cell phone. “Here you go. I assume you saw the clause in the NDA about cell phone use?”
“I know you don’t want us posting spoilers - we have to stay off social while filming and till the show airs,” I say with no hesitation, acknowledging the clause.
“Right, but it’s more than that. We don’t want any of the cast members posting anything on social or viewing any social media during the taping of the show. Just to be safe, we’ve got everyone a phone without a data plan. We’ll keep your phone and your laptop in a lockbox for the duration.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask. There’s no way. No can do. “But I’ll need access to my database and my server. And to communicate with my team.”
“We cleared it with your team already, actually. They’ve already run the data on all the participants prior, but they’ve agreed to work directly with me, get us whatever additional data we need,” Rob pauses. “And of course you can still call or text with them.”
“You’re telling me that everyone here is unplugging?” I ask, looking dubiously at the proffered phone. “What about you and Rory?”
“We’re the exception. We need to stay in touch with the team here and back home, monitor social for sentiment, and turn the episodes rapidly. We are only two weeks ahead of the schedule to air this show. So exciting. I’ve never worked on a show with such a truncated production schedule!”
“Sounds stressful,” I say.
“Not with you here,” Rob grins. “You are our ace in the hole, Jackson. Secret weapon. You and your incredible app are what I’m banking on to make magic happen.” He slaps me on my shoulder for emphasis.
“I think you mean logic,” I say.
“Right, LOGIC,” Rob taps his head.
“Isla Fairfax is okay with this?” I ask. She has a pretty robust presence on her author social accounts. Not that I stalk her. But she’d posted about heading to the tropics last night and hadn’t said anything about going dark for the week.
“Oh yeah,” Rob nods. “She was saying how thrilled she was to be off the grid and do a tech detox. Crazy, but hopefully she’ll help convince the others.”
We reach the oceanfront block of rooms where Isla is staying. The sun is peeking out from between the clouds, and the rain has finally stopped.
“Here we are,” Rob says. “Room 777. Isla is expecting you. Sorry to drop you and dash, but I’ll see you both in about half an hour. We’ve got a big BBQ for the cast and crew on the beach by the Jerk Hut.”
“Dude. Sorry. I can’t go to dinner like this.” I kick off one of my destroyed loafers. The sole is detached, flapping like a loose jaw. “I’d change but my luggage was lost. And I don’t think I’ll be getting the call when they find it.” I wave my smashed phone.
“Shit!” Rob smacks his forehead. “That’s a bummer about the luggage. Here’s what I can do. I will let my PA know to contact the airlines and look into getting you some new clothes when the resort shops open again. Just make a list. You can take my shoes,” Rob shoves his flip flops at me. “But in the meantime just rinse off. Stuff dries fast here, and anyways it’s casual. Most of the cast will probably be in their swimsuits.”
“Okay…” I take the flip flops. A little small but better than my decimated loafers. Hesitantly, I step out of the golf cart.
“Room 777. I gotta run, Jackson! Can’t wait to introduce you to the rest of the cast and team. You’re our biggest rockstar!” he taps the driver on the shoulder to go. “Thank you for being here! Say hi to Isla!”
* * *
“Oh my goodness!”Isla exclaims when she sees me. Her blue eyes are wide with surprise and amusement as she takes me in, standing outside her room, clutching a borrowed pair of flip-flops. “Look what the tide washed in.”
Her hair is damp and she appears to be freshly showered. She smells like lily of the valley. Clean. So achingly clean. She’s wearing a simple chic caftan with a graphic blue and white geometric print, and she’s barefoot. Her toes are painted seashell pink.
“Very funny,” I quip. “Next you’re gonna tell me that you knew this was going to happen, right?”
“Not at all,” she shakes her head. “Like I told you, my intuition doesn’t work that way. I get random snippets. Little bits and puzzle pieces.” She studies the wall behind me and breaks out in a grin. “Aw! look at that little guy! Isn’t he cute?”
