My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,45
until we make it to the elevator before she busts up laughing. “Oh, my God! I thought he was gonna piss himself when you went all Godzilla Rampage on his ass. Precise slice and dice!” she exclaims, slashing through the air with a flurry of sharp karate chops. “That was awesome, Miss Andrews!” She mimics the manager who thought he could walk all over me but got smashed in our game of chicken.
It was. But it shouldn’t have happened to begin with. And now, I’m way too busy to go kayaking with Lorenzo.
Last night, I was mad at him for saying yes to that without asking me, but once he explained, I’d gotten on board. Now, I’m disappointed to miss it, though I could definitely do without another dose of Emily.
“I’ll have to cancel on Lorenzo. We had plans this afternoon, but I have to focus on this. It’s too important.”
Janey shakes her head, determined. “Hell no, you’re not canceling. Yeah, this sucks and has the potential to be a serious clusterfuck, but you can’t do anything about it in the next few hours. The manager’s working and I’ll be working, so go and enjoy. I insist. You deserve this.”
“No way,” I argue. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is priority.”
Janey throws her arm around my shoulder and whispers in my ear.
“The highest priority you should have is knocking the rust off your pussy. It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten any or even had any fun. Go, Abs. I can handle this, and I’ll call you if I can’t. Girl Scout promise.” She holds up her hand, obviously never having been a Girl Scout. If anything, she looks like she’s about to testify in her own defense, which her next words make me worry about. “Plus, I think I’m going to visit that greenhouse again to see if I can swipe a few more blooms. If you’re with me, we might both get arrested. But if you’re out on the water with witnesses when it happens, you’ll have plausible deniability.”
“Janey.”
“Don’t worry, I got this. Just go get an alibi . . . and some dick, and let me take care of the rest.”
“If you’re sure?”
In answer, she rips the tablet from my hands and starts going down the list herself. After a second, she looks up. “You’re still here?”
Fine, I get it. I’m leaving. Just one last thing . . .
I kiss Janey’s cheek. “You’re the best, girl. Remind me to give you a raise when we get home.”
She laughs, knowing that there’s no way I can do that but perfectly willing to stay where she is with me.
Chapter 8
Lorenzo
Esmar’s voice rises and falls with the perfection of a trained tenor, and I shake my head in amazement. The man hasn’t stopped for nearly an hour, his powerful voice belting out classic opera like he’s singing pop in the shower. And he hasn’t missed a single note even as he preps for tonight’s dinner.
“Hey, Esmar, think we can change from cruel fate to something happier?” I ask.
“Ooh, challenge throwdown!” Gilberto cheers.
Esmar laughs. “You might be sorry, but you asked for it. You speak French?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but the entire kitchen staff is looking from Esmar to me with knowing smiles.
“A bit,” I hedge. The multicultural kitchen here probably has speakers of at least fifteen languages, and though Italian is my first language, my travels through Europe have taught me the basics of a few more.
I might be in trouble. But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than in this kitchen right now. After Meredith’s meeting this morning, I contemplated how best to spend my day. I don’t have any meals to cook for the wedding guests today because the resort kitchens are handling that as pre-planned, and though the beach called to me, I don’t want to burn before we kayak this afternoon. I might be olive complected, but the sun here is fierce and unforgiving. So Esmar’s kitchen is where I headed, wanting to watch him, learn from him, taste his food, and learn his soul, as he put it.
Hours later, I’m having a blast and feeling right at home. Until Esmar starts singing a new song, one created from his own imagination . . .