Twenty-One

VELAA, THE MALDIVES

ALYSSA

We sit around the teppanyaki grill so we can view the skills of the teppan chefs while they grill our entrées, together with finely chopped sides of eggs, vegetables, and rice for dinner. Every manner of fresh surf and turf is available for us to engorge ourselves with. Ellie has outdone herself with this menu, and we all enjoy a healthy buzz of conversation and excellent food. The seating arrangement again includes the nuclear wedding party with their plus ones immediately surrounding Sky and Brody, our band and their dates, and the security team all intermingled.

As Ellie instructed Dylan and me, we are to give a toast to the bride and groom during the meal, so I’ve come prepared. I hit my water glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention.

“Although, anyone who knows me knows that I hate being in the limelight unless I’m performing at a concert, I’ve been instructed by Cru’ Ella, I mean Ellie...” The wedding party titters with laughter, and Ellie smiles, but I can see a slight pinking of her ears. “... that I must give a toast for the bride. This is an easy task when Skylar Samuelson-Amamoto, soon to be Kent, is the honoree.” There is a collective “aww” among the guests. “Sky and I met when I was just a kid from Pasadena with a chip on my shoulder trying to make it in the business, and she was a Crazy Rich Asian American who was killing it as a triple-threat, and for some inexplicable reason thought I was good best friend material.” Everyone laughs. “We formed a bond on that show-that-shall-not-be-named and went on to slay it together in the music business. She knows most of my secrets, and I know most of hers. We are ride or die now, and will be even when we’re old and gray, when we’ll really be riding and hoping not to die.” More laughter. “I wish her every happiness in her new life with Brody. She deserves every ounce of happiness because she is the very best friend a girl,” I touch my heart as my voice becomes husky with emotion, “and that guy,” I point to Brody, “can have.” I raise my glass.

“Hear, hear,” Brody says, and everyone else raises their glasses and clink them with the person on their right, and then their left, and we all take a collective drink.

Sky leans over with tears in her eyes and hugs me, and I hug her back with all I’m worth as we try valiantly not to spill our drinks. “You know you’re like the sister I never had, right?” she whispers. Something she’s told me a thousand times, but each times she says it, it makes me feel all squishy inside.

“Yes,” I say, and try as I might to avoid tearing up, a tear does escape, and when I look up, Dylan is smiling at me. I nod to him and turn back to Eric and he does that cheesy intertwining of hands, which I think should only be done by the bride and groom, as we take another sip of our champagne.

Dylan stands and the crowd quiets without him clinking a glass. What a misogynistic crowd.

He clears his throat lightly and speaks. “My dad always taught me that ladies should go first, but I fear that my follow-up to Alyssa’s toast might be abysmal at best, but here goes.” The wedding party collectively “awws,” again, but in a slightly more apologetic way. “Brody and I have been friends since elementary school, back when I was the better-looking one because he hadn’t quite perfected his rock star alter ego, yet.” Everyone laughs, but their bandmates are the loudest. “When we met George, Finn and Stephen in middle school, we formed a garage band called Ecstasy, which little did we know, would go on to become the band you all know today as The Savages. We’d always called Brody ‘Savage’ because he growled our lyrics and literally acted like he wasn’t a civilized human being on stage.” We all laugh at that, and Brody stands to take a bow. Dylan’s brow furrows and he becomes more serious. “Fame was that thing we chased until we caught it, but then it literally tore us apart.” He swallows hard, as if he’s struggling to continue. Brody reaches over and rubs his friends back. “Last year when we came together again, no one was more stoked than I was to have my friend back.”

“Love you, man,” Brody says, his own lip quivering.

“Stop that and let me finish,” Dylan says, in mock chastisement.

“Okay, okay,” Brody says, raising his hands as if in surrender.

“Sky has done for Brody what none of us could do, and for that we’re eternally grateful. To Brody and Sky. May your lives together be as magical in fifty years as it is today.” Dylan raises his glass. The guy shouldn’t have been afraid to follow me. He’s a songwriter, a lyricist, so that toast was really a no-brainer for him.

“Hear, hear,” Sky says and leads us all in raising our glasses. Once there have been clinks all around again, Brody stands and gives his friend one of those chest-pounding, manly half hugs that all guys seem to universally know how to do.

I have a lump in my throat the size of this tiny Maldives island and I try, but fail to wash it away with a single drink of my champagne. Only when my glass is almost empty do I finally feel it’s safe to eat.

Everyone is likewise, digging into the food, and we all become engrossed in eating and conversation with those around us, and this night feels as magical as any I’ve ever experienced with my friends. Even Marnie and Nicole have settled down and seem to be enjoying themselves immensely.

Half-way through dinner, Dylan and Dani play a game of feeding one another which nauseates me, but I turn away and give Eric my full attention. He tells me funny stories as we eat, about meeting veteran actors with surprisingly different personas than they actually project in real life. It’s interesting, because he’s met some of my favorites, and they’re nothing like I imagined.

We giggle like we’re as thick as thieves as we consume our meal. When we’re done, Ellie announces that it’s free-time, but we’re all pumped, so we decide collectively to move our party to the beach where the valets have set up double loungers that look mysteriously like canopy beds surrounded by tiki torches to give some ambient light.

There is also a casual bar, so we can refresh our drinks. I return to the crisp Chardonnay I was drinking earlier, and Eric nurses another Jack and Coke. Dylan and Dani pass us as we claim our shared lounger and Dylan stops, and Dani who’s holding his arm, stops, too.

“Nice job on the toast, Ms. Lawrence,” Dylan says, while Dani nods her approval.

“Same to you, Mr. Castle,” I mimic, and immediately wish I could’ve come up with something a little pithier.

“We’d expect nothing less of songwriters,” Eric says. “Because what’s a song, if not a poem set to music?”

We all voice murmurs of agreement, then Dylan and Dani grab a lounger on the other side of Sky and Brody. They lean in and have what seems to be an intimate conversation as the music from the speakers attached to the mobile bar wafts around us.

“If you promise not to look at them, I’ll give you a play by play,” Eric says close to my ear, as if he’s whispering terms of endearment to me.

“That’s an excellent idea,” I say and smack him teasingly on the lips. “You’re a genius.”

As the night wears on, Eric does exactly that. Sharing with me about every sexy look, every stolen kiss, the slow-dancing on the sand, and when they abandon the dancing and return to rest on their lounger. Finally, Eric grows quiet. It takes all the willpower I have to keep from turning and looking to see what’s happening myself. Instead, I act on my genuine concern for Eric, who looks absolutely miserable.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“To be honest,” Eric confides in me with a moue of distaste. “They look as if they’re really having fun, but I’ve become a sports announcer.”

I am aghast. “You’re the one who offered to do it. Why would you offer if you didn’t want to?”

He looks rueful. “I was hoping you would decline my offer. I have to say, Alyssa. I find you very attractive, and unlike most women I’ve met in Hollywood, you’re a straight shooter. I thought we could drop the pretense and see where this takes us.” He runs a slow finger along my collar bone.

My mouth moves, but I seem to have lost the words to string together in some form of rational response to his suggestion. If I am truly in this thwart Dylan’s attempt at breaking my heart again, then the best thing I can do is try to give my heart to someone else.

Yet, Eric seems to be the opposite of what I need on paper. He’s an actor who travels all over the place, and he’s inordinately obsessed with body image. But, I have my quirks, too, which I’m sure he’s become somewhat acquainted with in the short time he’s been in my company, and he doesn’t seem to be turned off by them. If I’m reading his signals right, and feeling what I think I’m feeling against my lower body, he’s definitely turned on.

I scramble off the lounger, and when I’m upright, I say, “Hold that thought, Eric. I’ll be right back.”

Then I stumble over to Sky and Brody, necking on their lounger and tap her on the shoulder. She looks up at me out of her lust-filled haze. “What’s up, girlfriend?”

“Um... Powder room break?”

She looks askance because Sky knows me better than anyone. I don’t do communal bathroom breaks. However, she also knows me well enough to know that I probably need to talk to her about something serious, so she gives Brody one final smooch and joins me as I stalk toward the resort office lobby.

“Hey! Slow down,” she says. “Where’s the fucking fire?”

“It’s about to be on that beach, and more specifically, in my fucking underwear if Eric gets his way.”

She stops just before I open the door. “What? I thought you weren’t using the special perks with IYM this time.”

I usher her into the lobby. “I’m not, but Eric wants to.”

“How do you know?”

I give her a “duh” look.

“He told you. Oh my god, are you up for that? Even though Dylan is here, with another date no less, but he’s here.”

I practically stomp into the ladies room as she follows me. This powder room is a well-appointed one as they go, replete with an attendant who seems to have every manner of toiletries known to woman.

She smiles shyly at us as we move into the largest stall together and commence to whisper-shouting through my current dilemma.

“I know, Dylan’s here, but I also know he’s with a date, and I’m with a date. Who’s to say he’s not going at it like gangbusters with Dani, the mother of dragons, while I’m remaining as celibate as a fucking nun?”

“This is true,” Sky agrees. “We have no knowledge of what’s going on between the two of them. They’re sharing a suite just like you and Eric are. So?” She holds that ‘so’ to give me a chance to complete her sentence.

“So, if he’s willing, and I’m willing maybe we should give this thing a shot. Right? I mean... look what happened for you and Brody. IYM is like the physical manifestation of Tinder. They’ve hooked up about as many people in the Hollywood area as any of the other dating apps.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“I’ve always been the more adventurous one, so I’m required to know these things.”

“Okay, so are you attracted to Eric?”

“Yes, and I’ll have to admit, I like his body a lot more than I like his mind. He has a few quirks that irk me, but I’m sure I have some that drive him up the wall, too.”

“You are right, ‘O’ prickly one’,” she says with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up. I don’t need to you to agree on my hang-ups so quickly.”

She pins me with a stare. “Then why am I here if not to play devil’s advocate for you? Or do you want me to talk you into sleeping with Eric?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I really don’t know. It’s like my body needs release, but my mind is calling foul at every turn.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t sleep with him, if you’re not one hundred percent sure,” Sky says gently. “You didn’t even sleep with Dylan on your first date, and he rang all your bells.”

Talking this through with Sky turns out to be the best thing I’ve done in recent months. I realize that while I can get to know Eric and continue to drive Dylan crazy with our flirting, I don’t have to sleep with Eric on this trip. We can literally see where things go with us before I make that decision. The atmosphere on the island is one of romance, but romance can be everything else except doing the deed, until I’m absolutely sure I want to do the deed.

I hug my friend. “Thank you. I think I’ll just date Eric on this trip until we figure out if we want things to go further between us.”

She hugs me back. “Good decision. Now can I get back to my fiancé, because I’m literally going to fuck his brains out tonight.”

I shove her playfully. “You bitch. See, you didn’t even have to go there with me, because I really could have done without that visual.”

“Well, this is the precursor to my honeymoon,” she says with a grin.

“You’re right. Lucky you.”

Since we’re in the ladies, we decide to make good use of it before going back out to join the men.

When we get back, some couples are dancing and others are milling around chatting. Dylan and Dani seem to have gone in different directions. He’s talking to Marnie’s date and Dani’s talking to Nicole, while Nicole’s date and Marnie are at the bar.

Sky rejoins Brody on their lounger where he’s holding a fresh drink for her, and I sit on the edge of the lounger and take the drink Eric retrieved for me.

“Thanks, I say,” taking a cursory sip of my wine. “As you were saying before. About us ditching the pretense and seeing where things go with us. I’m game for that, but can we take it slow?”

“Sure,” he says, although he looks just a bit disappointed. I would be too if I had balls and they were in all likelihood as blue as his are going to be by the end of this vacation. Because I don’t plan to sleep with him until I’m absolutely sure I want to continue a relationship with him after the wedding.

“Thanks for understanding, Eric. I just want to be as honest with you as possible until I’m absolutely sure we can be more than this... arrangement we began together.” 

“Okay,” he says. “We can do that on one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” I ask warily.

He stands up and reaches out a hand to me. “If you dance with me a while.”

I can certainly do that. We begin with a couple of fast songs and we move to the music, not doing anything fancy, but holding our own in our specific wheelhouses. Then the Dee Jay plays a couple of slow ones, and Eric and I move together, continuing to let the music move us, and the ocean breeze cool us before our movements make us a hot sticky mess. Who knew that dancing in the sand could take it out of you?

I am lost in the moment, until the song changes, and Eric is moving away from me, and I look up to see that Dylan is cutting in.

“You don’t mind do you?” Dylan asks before taking me into his arms.

My heart goes into my throat, and I guess I must have nodded or given him some indication that it was okay because suddenly, I’m in his arms and we’re moving together effortlessly in the sand. I had cooled down, but now it seems I’m heating up again, because this is Dylan. My catnip.

I try to be as chill as possible with him, but I’m sure he can feel me trembling in his arms. I wrack my brain for something to say to him, but he beats me to it.

“This ocean breeze is kinda chilly at night, huh?”

“Yes.” I finally break the proverbial ice and speak. “I should’ve brought a wrap or something out with me.”

“Send Erin to go get you one,” he says. “That’s his job.”

“Um, no,” I argue. “It’s not his job. What are we, living in the fifties? I can get my own wrap. And his name is Eric.”

Dylan laughs. “My bad. No harm in a guy being a gentleman for his lady is there?”

“No harm at all, but it’s not expected from this lady.”

“Right,” he says, then twirls me around and brings me back close. Dylan has some moves. I remember this. And I pray for my nipples to behave, but they have a mind of their own. They shrink into hard beads as he brings me back into his chest.

He looks down between us but doesn’t comment, and I’m glad he doesn’t because I won’t be responsible for my response if he were to state the obvious. I snuggle closer to him in an effort to get some evidence that I can use against him, and sure enough, there’s a significant bulge rubbing against my belly.

I look up and give him a wry smile. Game. Set. Match.

The song can’t end fast enough after that. My body is betraying me, but the only consolation I have is that his body is betraying him, too. While our poor dates are clueless as hell. I have three choices. I can stop the charade and share my true feelings with Dylan, I can guard my heart by waiting for him to make the first move, or I can go find my date and stick to his ass like glue.

I choose the latter, looking around until I spot Eric. He’s right by our lounger, but he’s talking shop with Finn’s date, Chelsea, who’s also an actress. I can tell because they’re both doing that face frame thing every so often and chatting about ninety miles an hour. Dylan does a quick adjustment of himself, and I hope no one’s watching and catches his hand disappearing between us in the dark.

As soon as the song ends, Dani walks over and touches Dylan’s elbow and nods toward Finn, who’s lying prone on his lounge chair staring out at the sea. This is the first time since we got here that I’ve been happy to see her, because I was seconds away from cancelling Dylan’s and my truce in dramatic fashion.

Dylan smiles an ingratiating smile and apologizes, “Sorry, Alyssa. I promised to introduce Dani to Finn and looks like now is a good time. You jammin’ with us in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say with a smile I’m sure looks pasted on, but matches his in wattage.

When they walk away, I return to Eric’s side and remain there until it’s time to retire for the evening.