Page 36 of Beauty and the Beach

Makoa tapped Holt on the back to let him know he could let go of him. While he would have liked to punch the faka in the face, Ana handled the situation better.

“You will pay your cast the money you owe them, and will continue to pay them the overtime rates that we discussed until demand slows down or we decide to add on to the staff. Plus, you will give each of them a thousand dollar bonus for being a douche bag. Not to mention if you touch any member of your cast, I will personally cut that body part off. Do you understand?”

“Maud was consensual.”

Ana snorted. “She cried in the locker room afterwards.”

This time, he was too fast for Holt and managed to sink his fist into Don’s gut up to his elbow.

“I’m done,” he said, when Holt wrestled him away.

Don, on the other hand, was puking up mermaid cookies. Tetsuo turned on his heel and left. Ana whipped the chair around and followed him. “Hey,” she said over her shoulder. “Can you guys stick around another hour? I’ve got to do some publicity stuff, but then I can leave. I’d like to go home with you. If that’s still okay?”

Makoa nodded, unable to trust his voice. Unable to trust that little kernel of hope inside him that maybe this hadn’t been a cruel trick all along. Maybe, it had felt magical because it really was. Only in a love-at-first-sight way, instead of boy-meets-mermaid way.

Chapter Thirteen

Ana sat on Makoa’s bed, her legs criss crossed. She wore yoga pants and a tank top. “This is a bit different from before.”

Makoa sat at the end of the bed, staring at the bedspread.

“I think we should start over. Hi, I’m Ana Simpson. I’m an actress. I just got my first lead role in an underwater play. I’m the mermaid Eros.”

For a moment, she didn’t think Makoa was going to say anything, but then he lifted his head up and her heart hurt at the pain in his eyes. She never wanted to hurt him.

“I’m Makoa Chay. I’m nobody special.”

“That’s not true,” she said angrily and watched him flinch back in shock. “You saved me from drowning.”

“I was doing my job. I work here.” He spread his hands out. “I’m a bellhop and gofer. I make minimum wage and I live in a hotel room.”

“You work in paradise and get paid to eat and sleep at a resort. I’m such a failure I couldn’t even land a part as “girl on the beach” in Hawaii. Too ordinary.”

“Bullshit,” Makoa said. “You’re not ordinary at all. You’re a great actress. I believed you were a mermaid.”

“I wasn’t acting.” Now it was her turn to look at the bedspread. It really wasn’t that interesting. “Not when we were together anyway.”

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