The Lion's Den(50)

Leaving the shade partially open, I crept back to my bed, where I remained vigilant in the hope of possibly getting a better look at the visitors when they departed. But I never heard the motor fire up again, and at some point I must have given in to sleep, because the next thing I knew, Camille was rousing us this morning at dawn with instructions to report to the dining room dressed for Spin class. We sat around the table for an hour before Summer showed up to inform us that Spin class was canceled because she and John were going to look at land. She was in an exceptionally cheerful mood and even gave me one of her Dramamine pills when I discovered I’d misplaced my own. I suppose I could’ve gone back to bed after she and John departed, but I was so wired from all the coffee I’d consumed, I figured I’d try to get some work done.

So here I sit, trying to read a television script I have an audition for next week, but my stomach hasn’t felt right all morning and I’m distracted. Summer’s vicious elimination of Emmanuelle has me on edge, especially coupled with her unusual friendliness toward me this morning. I feel like I’m playing a game of increasing stakes with ever-changing rules.

Of course I knew intellectually going into this trip that Summer was no longer the girl I’d always shared secrets with, but seeing her without the rose-colored glasses of years of friendship, I hardly recognize her. And I feel stupid for not seeing her more clearly before.

I realize it should be a simple trick to not get caught up in her machinations, but I don’t seem to be able to disentangle myself and can’t help but wonder at her intentions for bringing me here when she so clearly despises me. Granted, things were different between us when she first extended the invitation—God, was it only six weeks ago? This is the first time we’ve spent any quality time together since what happened to Eric.

Eric. Regardless of my promise to myself that I wasn’t going to think about him this week, my heart tugs at the idea of him.

But I’m here now, so I have to keep up the act, pretend everything’s great and I’m having a wonderful time. It’s the most exhausting role I’ve ever played, and the whole thing makes me nauseated. I take a sip of my coffee. My stomach roils. I put the coffee down. Maybe no more coffee this morning. Hopefully this is just a case of too much coffee on an empty stomach and not something worse. I look out at the horizon in an attempt to still my thoughts and my churning stomach.

Camille appears in my line of sight, speaking words I can’t hear. I rip the earbuds from my ears. “Sorry. I had it up loud.”

“Not a problem,” she says. “The tender will leave at noon.”

“Oh!” I glance at my watch. It’s 11:43 a.m. “I didn’t realize we were leaving so soon.”

She nods. “Madame Lyons would like everyone there early.”

“She’s not Madame Lyons, you know,” I say tersely. “She’s his mistress.”

Camille looks at me wide-eyed, unsure how to respond. As I snap my laptop closed, I notice Dre and Hugo collecting towels and magazines from the deserted sundeck. Camille follows my gaze and apologizes. “They went down thirty minutes ago. I didn’t see you here. I’m sorry.”

My stomach lurches as I stand. Oh no.

I scurry down the stairs to our room, where Amythest is already perfectly made up and curling her hair in front of the mirror wearing a shiny purple bikini. I enter the bathroom, waving her out. “You can have it back, but I need it for a minute.”

“Can’t you just pee in front of me?”

“I don’t need to—”

And just like that, I’m on my knees, hurling my morning coffee and croissant into the toilet.

“Shit.” Amythest drops the curling iron and pulls my hair back in one motion.

After I finish, she wets a washcloth and hands it to me. “You okay?”

I nod. “Better now.”

“Did you forget to take your Dramamine this morning?” she asks, concerned.

I shake my head. “I couldn’t find my pill bottle, but Summer gave me one of hers.”

Amythest narrows her eyes. “Are you sure it was Dramamine?”

“No.” I bite my lip, realizing. I’d recognized the goons might be drugging us with their Valium, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Summer would drug me. How could I have been so stupid? “She said it was a different brand that did the same thing.” Amythest raises an eyebrow. I take a deep breath and let it out. “But why? Why on earth would she want me to be sick? I coulda hurled all over her precious boat!”

She shrugs. “She doesn’t like you. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t know.”

She’s right. I know.

“Maybe you should skip lunch,” she suggests.

I shake my head, wobbling to my feet. “And let her think she won? No way.”

I wash my mouth out and brush my teeth, noting my ghostly appearance in the mirror. Amythest is right. I should probably skip lunch, but that’s not happening. I focus on the horizon through the window above Amythest’s bed in an effort to quell my nausea while she looks on, amused.

“Well,” she says, “it’s a beach club. So, like, bring a bikini so we can lay out or whatever after lunch. If you can keep it down.”

She gives me a wry smile and turns back to the mirror.