The Real Real by Emma McLaughlin

Author:Emma McLaughlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

REEL 11

“Oh, the tide is high, but I’m holding on,” Trisha trills along with her iPod as the seven of us climb down from the white airport minivan. We make our way toward the marble-floored three-story domed entrance of Cancun’s Las Vistas Five-Star Resort and Casino.

As they roll in their product placement suitcases, I hang back from the person I hooked up with seventy-two hours ago, his best friend, his girlfriend, her best friend, her nemesis—and Drew. Inside I let the warm ocean breeze that wafts through the open space seep into my chilled body, which has gone from the unheated XTV van to inexplicably air-conditioned JFK to the air-conditioned plane to the air-conditioned hotel shuttle. Under the spray tan, my ears are blue and, despite two straight days of scrubbing, those stupid painted hearts are still faintly visible, although Kara’s promised me they won’t “read”—so there’s that.

Jase and Rick take pink drinks from a tray by reception and down them, while Nico and Melanie sniff theirs. Rick reads the little card and grabs a second. “Guava juice, cool.”

“Take a seat on the couches while I get you all checked in.” Kara lifts yet another embroidered cotton peasant blouse—which someone must have told her is her best look—and removes our passports from the pouch she has taped to her stomach. “And I just want to take this moment to thank you all again for your amenability. Believe me, I was as thrown as you were to get this trip green-lit at ten last night. But Fletch’s schedule moved around, and the only time convenient was this week. I’m sorry I had to get you all out of bed. I’m sorry I had to spray-tan you myself. I’m sorry I cannot get my fucking boss to approve the production plan more than eight hours out. It’s not like I’ve seen my boyfriend in two months. It’s not like I had a doctor’s appointment—fuck—that I haven’t even canceled.”

Ben pauses his load-in to rub her shoulders, and she smiles in gratitude, fumbling for her phone. For once probably equally as exhausted as Kara, I gladly sink between Trisha and Melanie into the puffy white leather and rest my eyes. Trisha and Melanie, who I also managed to sit between on the plane, and who I plan to keep bookended around me for the rest of the trip. I don’t care that Trisha’s perfume makes me want to gag or that Melanie hums without realizing it.

“Okay, guys, follow me.”

We wheel our Tumi suitcases label out to the elevator and, as Jase swats Nico’s ass and she lets out a giggle for Trisha’s benefit, I squeeze between T&M and make myself small for the ascent to the penthouse.

“Okay, here we are. For the next four days this’ll be your home base.” Kara opens the door to what could be a living room, or it could be a snake farm. I don’t notice. All I see is water. Beautiful, bright water. Not like what we have at home, which is dark as denim and choppy and freezing, even in the dead of August.

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