Sunkissed Page 7

  Quinn was waiting in the baggage terminal area when Trista got to the airport. Trista spotted her friend immediately. She was the only five-foot-ten, brunette woman wearing a black jumpsuit with bright-red high heels, which made her tower over six feet. Her hair was held back with a sequin headband and hung all the way down to her derriere. Quinn was wearing shiny, two-carat diamond post earrings. Men were enthralled by Quinn’s beauty, and women were intimidated by her. Quinn was also smart as a whip. She was not only a great actress, but a talented writer as well. She had written several screenplays and got the green light from a studio last week to start production on a new movie.

  Trista met Quinn when she first moved to Hollywood. Quinn had been cast in the role as Trista’s best friend on You Only Live Once. They quickly became best friends in real life, too. Trista trusted Quinn, and she was the only person who knew about her past. Filled with emotion, she called out to Quinn, who was picking up her Louis Vuitton luggage from the baggage carousel.

  “Trista!” Quinn shouted.

  Trista hugged her friend tightly. “I’m so happy that you’re here!”

  “I’ve missed you,” Quinn said, returning the hug. “Saturday yoga is not the same without you.”

  “I bet.” Trista reached for one of her bags. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  Quinn looked around. “What? No limo driver?”

  Trista laughed. “This is the beach. We’re relaxed and laid back here. No limos, no drivers today.” In LA, they took a limo or car service everywhere. Even though Trista had her white Mercedes coup while living in LA, she hardly ever drove it. The studio had a car service on call, and it picked up Trista every morning and took her home at night. When she went out with the girls, they almost always took a limo.

  Trista led her friend outside to the parking lot. She had been lucky and got a parking spot right up front. The weather was cooperating too. March was typically the rainy season, but today the temperature was in the low 70s with sunny skies. A slight sea breeze tousled her hair. She loaded Quinn’s luggage into her trunk.

  “What is the plan for the weekend?” Quinn asked, as they got settled into the car.

  “Nicolette wants to take us out for dinner at the Bowery on 30-A. It’s a new fabulous restaurant near the beach house. Afterward, we are going to some new club that just opened. Nicolette’s idea.” Trista drove out of the airport parking lot and headed toward the highway that would take them down to the beach. The airport was an hour away from her house, but without tourist traffic, she thought she could make it home within forty-five minutes. “I told her that going to the club may not be the best idea since we have to catch an early flight tomorrow.”

  “I happen to think going to the club is an excellent idea!” Quinn smiled. “When did you get to be such a fun sucker? It’s been awhile since you and I tore up a dance floor.”

  “You’re right! I guess the last time was to celebrate your thirtieth birthday in Cancun.”

  “After you hooked up with Mr. Asshole, I hardly saw you anymore.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t believe that I was actually in love with him.” Trista took a quick look at her friend. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how bad Blake was?”

  “Honey, I tried. They don’t call it rose-colored glasses for nothing.”

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Trista snuck another peek at Quinn. She was staring at her with those inquisitive eyes that could see through anyone’s bullshit.

  “I knew it,” Quinn said. “You’ve slept with someone. I recognize that glow.”

  “How do you know?” Trista asked, already knowing the answer. Quinn was like a Magic 8 Ball and a tarot-card reader rolled up into one. She instinctively knew when Trista had man troubles. She just wished she would’ve heeded Quinn’s warning about Blake.

  “What happened?” Quinn asked, ignoring Trista’s question.

  “I accidentally slept with my sister’s boyfriend.” Trista sighed. “Well, it’s complicated. He’s not actually her boyfriend. And I didn’t know they were dating.”

  Quinn laughed. “Damn girl! Does trouble just follow you wherever you go? How the hell do you accidentally sleep with your sister’s boyfriend?”

  Trista told Quinn everything that had happened—from the night she drove into town and slept with Riker to when she last saw Riker and broke it off with him. “Nicolette had dinner with him last week, and he told her that it was over for good. She came home in tears. Neither of us has spoken to him since then.”

  “But you want to?” Quinn asked, with a sly smile on her face.

  “Of course I do! But if I want to keep Nicolette from killing me…”

  “You obviously have feelings for Riker?” Quinn waved her hand. “Don’t even answer. I know you do. I’ve seen that goofy look on your face before. You’re in love with him.”

  “I never said that. We have a sexual chemistry that can’t be denied. But love? After everything that happened with Blake, I’m not so sure I know what love is anymore.”

  “You love him. I can tell.” Quinn tried to stretch out her large frame in the small confines of Trista’s Mercedes. “Blake was just your layover. Some people have direct flights to love. And for some people, it takes two, three, or more stops to get to their destination.”

  “You think Riker is my destination?”

  “I think Riker is your destination, your happy ending, all rolled into one.”

  “All this and you’ve never set eyes on him.”

  “I don’t have to meet him to know how you’re feeling. I can tell just from looking at you, girl. You got bit by the love bug, and it shows all over.”

  “What about Nicolette?”

  “You guys had a rocky relationship to begin with. Nicolette needs to grow up and stop blaming other people for her problems. There was a reason it didn’t work out for her and Riker. And it wasn’t you. Tell her the truth when the time is right. She’ll get over it. And if she doesn’t…” Quinn shrugged, “then move on with your life. Do what makes Trista happy.”

  Trista nodded. She didn’t want to hurt Nicolette. But all Nicolette had done since Trista was a little girl was to make her life a living hell. She never fully accepted Trista as a sister and always treated her like crap.

  They continued to catch up on each other’s lives until Trista drove up to the beach house. The pool maintenance guy had parked his truck in the driveway. He was wearing board shorts and nothing else. Quinn stared at him as he lifted a long-handled net out of the back of the truck.

  “Nice place,” Quinn said. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Carlos. He’s our pool guy.”

  “Yummy.”

  “He’s barely eighteen. His dad owns the company. He works part-time and goes to college at night.” Trista popped open the trunk. “We have plenty of time to meet other men. Please don’t accost my pool boy.”

  “I was thinking he could give me a proper Florida welcome,” Quinn laughed as Carlos approached them and offered to help with her luggage.

  Trista punched Quinn on the arm. “Cut it out.”

  “You know I prefer older men,” she added, watching the pool boy carry her bags inside the house. “But there’s nothing wrong with a little something-something with a younger man every now and then.”

  Trista thanked Carlos, who was blushing by the time he walked out to the pool deck. “Shhhh…don’t get that poor boy’s hopes up. Besides, there are plenty of older men here. We are in the state that has more retirees in all of America.”

  “Yeah, that may be true but I like men that still have their own teeth and don’t carry around a little button to push when they fall down and can’t get up. And speaking of getting it up…”

  Trista laughed, opening the door to the kitchen area. “Okay, that’s enough. I get your point.”

  “I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us tonight,” Quinn said, throwing her purse down on the table. She picked up a bottle of tequila that was
sitting on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Club Aqua was a new nightclub located in Destin, which was the nearest town to the west of Blue Mountain Beach. The colorful club was housed in a renovated warehouse, just over twenty-thousand square feet of space sectioned into three parts. The largest part had a large dance floor with a live DJ spinning a mix of pop music infused with techno. There was also a VIP section located on two levels: one behind the dance floor and one on the second level, which was roped off and had a discreet view of the whole club. Another part of the club housed a variety of pool tables, dartboards, and poker tables. A long, U-shaped bar served a variety of drinks and appetizers. It was quieter than the other side of the club and had more of laid-back beach theme with pop/country music playing from the stereo system.

  “This isn’t anything like the Liar’s Club,” Nicolette mused as they pulled into the parking lot. “I’ve been trying to get Daddy to open a nightclub like this near Blue Mountain Beach. We need more than just hole-in-the-wall establishments that cater to people like Crazy Jack.”

  “I had a sneaky feeling this was just more than a girls night out at the club. This is a research trip for you, isn’t it?” Trista asked her sister. She knew that Nicolette was her father’s right-hand woman when it came to business dealings. She had to give her sister credit. Nicolette had made Sam Ricci a lot of money; she was a natural in knowing a good real estate investment when she saw it.

  “Consider this a perk of the job,” Nicolette said, stepping out of the car. She was dressed in a black-leather mini skirt with a white sheer blouse and black high- heel boots. A group of men were getting out of their car at the same time, and all of them turned to stare at Nicolette. She gave them a half wave and smile before turning her attention back to Trista.

  Trista took a moment to adjust her dress before getting out of the car. She had decided on the aqua-colored chiffon dress she had bought from the Beach Peach during her last shopping spree with Nicolette. It was a short dress with the hemline hitting just above her knees. The neckline was covered in delicate lace and the back of the dress was open all the way to the middle of her back. It was pretty in the front and sexy in the back. The color of the dress complimented her hair and tan that she still maintained by going to the tanning salon every week. “I’m ready. Let’s go,” she said to Quinn who was getting out of the backseat.

  Quinn was a stunning beauty as always. Trista always joked that Quinn could wear a paper sack and make it look fashionable. Tonight was no exception. Her friend went with an understated look with faded Levis, a cropped white t-shirt that showed off her amazing abs, a black leather studded vest, and a million dollars in diamonds between her ears and navel. She borrowed a pair of rusty-red cowboy boots from Nicolette that just added a touch of flair to her outfit. Her long, raven hair hung loosely in a fishtail braid down the right side of her shoulder. Thick, dark eyelashes coated in jet-black mascara made her eyelashes flare dramatically around her emerald-colored eyes. The mascara, black eyeliner, and ruby-red lipstick were the only makeup Quinn wore.

  “We’re counting on you to round them up for us,” Trista said to Quinn. She knew as soon as they walked into the club the men would be fighting to talk to her best friend.

  “Just remember to save some for us,” Nicolette joked.

  The three of them made their way inside the club. Nicolette knew the bouncer, and he escorted them to the first-floor VIP section, where a table was waiting for them. While the outside of the club looked like a worn-down piece of crap, the inside was fabulous. The dance floor was made of acrylic glass and had an aquarium underneath. While dancing, you could view all kinds of marine life swimming around, including a few nurse sharks and stingrays. There was stadium-style seating in one section where patrons had a good view of the dance floor and stage. Oversized stuffed chairs and couches were scattered behind the dance floor. In the VIP section, bottle service, tapas, and a personal bartender and waitresses paid close attention to a patron’s every need.

  The girls sat at one of the tables and ordered drinks. Quinn insisted on starting the night with a shot of Silver Patron all around. As predicted, it didn’t take long for the men to start lining up at the VIP section, wanting to meet Quinn. The bouncer did a good job of keeping them at bay, only letting in VIP members.

  “To hell with this boring VIP stuff. I’m going to go dancing,” Quinn said after downing her shot and chasing it with a beer. She grabbed Trista’s hand. “Let’s go have some fun, girls.”

  Nicolette flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m staying here.” She looked over at the next table, where the group of men from the parking lot were seated. “I see someone I’d like to talk to.”

  Trista looked concerned for a moment. She realized she and Nicolette had never really gone out like this before and wasn’t sure about leaving her big sister alone with a bunch of men that neither of them knew. “Are you sure?”

  Quinn tugged on Trista’s arm. “She’ll be fine. Mr. Arms-Bigger-Than-His- Ass over there will protect her if needed,” Quinn said, referring to the bouncer assigned to the VIP room.

  They hit the dance floor as soon as Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball remix started playing. Quinn and Trista stood in the center of the dance floor and gazed at the multitude of colorful fish that swam below.

  “I’ve got to say I’m fucking impressed! There is nothing like this in LA,” Quinn said, staring at a large nurse shark that circled around before darting off.

  “Oh, LA has its share of sharks and barracudas. You’ve met Gil Salmon, right?” Trista laughed. She knew they were catching the attention of men hanging around the bar. It wouldn’t be long before one of the admiring men came hitting on them.

  “Gil is a prick who doesn’t know his asshole from his elbow. He made a huge mistake by firing you from the show.” Quinn took Trista by the hand and twirled her around the dance floor. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Some fantastic show will come along and scoop you right up.”

  When Trista had found out she had been axed from the show, and after the Blake cheating fiasco, Quinn was the first person who showed up at her front door to console her. She’d told Trista that she had no idea Gil was changing up the show and Trista’s contract was not being renewed. Apparently nobody did, except for top brass. The rest of the crew showed up later that night, and they all had a drunken three-day weekend, vowing not to return to the show unless Trista was re-hired. In the end, Trista told her friends not to cause problems, even though just the thought of everyone boycotting the show on her behalf made her heart swell with love for them. Marla used to tell her that every dark cloud had a silver lining, and this was one of those times when Trista truly believed something good was going to come out of this. She just wished it would hurry up and get there!

  “I hope you’re right,” Trista yelled over the music. “Watch out. Here come some of your admirers.” They looked over at two men heading their way. Barely catching their names over the loud music, Quinn and Trista started dancing with them.

  Trista thought her dance partner was cute. He had a nice smile and an even nicer butt that she noticed when he turned around. Quinn’s dance partner looked like he could pass for Channing Tatum. Some girls have all the luck.

  After a few songs, her partner led Trista off the dance floor. They walked back to the VIP section, leaving Quinn and her man on the dance floor. It was a little quieter in this part of the club, and Trista could finally talk to her dance partner without yelling. A quick look over at the other tables, and Trista saw the three men from the parking lot surrounding Nicolette. She was laughing and looked like she was having a good time.

  “My name is Bruce,” her dance partner told her. “I wasn’t sure that you heard me out there.”

  “Trista Carmichael,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Holy shit!” Bruce exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar. What are you doing here in Florida?”<
br />
  “Visiting family.” It was the safe answer she gave most people. And it was true.

  “I love your show,” Bruce said. “I’ve watched every episode. Some more than once. Your character Molly is so funny.”

  Trista smiled. Obviously Bruce didn’t read OK! Magazine. He thought she was still working on the show. She didn’t bother to correct him. “Thank you. Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’m sorry,” Bruce blushed. “I sound like some crazed fan, huh? I can assure you that I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

  Trista laughed. “It’s okay. As long as you don’t ask me to autograph your ass or anything.”

  “Would you? Autograph my ass, that is?” Bruce laughed at the expression on her face. “Just kidding. Let me buy you a drink instead?”

  The waitress came over at the table. “We already have a tab open, and it’d be my treat. What would you like?” Trista asked, smiling at the waitress who was waiting for their order.

  “If you insist. Crown and seven, please.”

  “I’ll have another margarita.” She waited for the waitress to leave. “So, what do you do?” Trista asked Bruce.

  “I’m a lawyer. Family law, real estate closings, some malpractice and injury.”

  “Living in a small beach town I guess you have to diversify, huh?”

  “Yeah, something like that. I hate to bore you to death about law. I bet your life is way more exciting.”

  Trista thought about her cheating fiancé, losing her job on the show, and having sex with her sister’s boyfriend. It was then that she realized her life sounded like a real-life soap opera. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”