Page 85 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

I wipe my hands on my apron and pull my phone from my pocket, but Georgia’s already texted me. So has Carly, but I skip past her messages, straight to Georgia’s. When I open it, my emotions pinball all over the place. As much as I wanted to see her tonight, I’m more relieved than disappointed when I read her message.

Normally I’d obsess about why she couldn’t make it, but I choose to focus on the fact she’s excited to see me tomorrow. She’s not avoiding me. And she wouldn’t be excited about anything to do with me if she had a Darlene encounter tonight.

I’m about to put my phone away when I realize there’s something I have to do first. Something I should have done days ago.

I fire a message to Carly.

We’re done. Stop texting me.

Then, I delete her from my contacts. A lightness fills my whole body. The Carly chapter of my life is officially over.

My phone is barely back in my pocket, and I’m ready to tackle the rest of the dishes when I hear Bear say, “You can’t be back here, Mayor.”

My head jerks up, and Darlene’s eyes lock on mine like a hunter’s scope on its prey.

“There’s the Thomsen I’m looking for,” she says without breaking eye contact. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She clacks her way to me as Adam comes out of the walk-in cooler holding a head of romaine. His jaw drops as she passes by him and says, “I need a quick word with Zach. I promise not to reveal any of your chef secrets.”

Adam turns his head to me, and I shrug. Then Darlene stops in front of me, blocking my view of my brother.

“Why don’t we talk in Adam’s office?” I wipe greasy water off my hands, then lead her past my brother and his glare to the office.

“Where’s my permit, Zachary?” she asks before I close the door.

“I’ll have it to you this week, I swear. It’s just been crazy on set, and I didn’t have a chance to pick up the paperwork from the city offices. Did you know you can’t get the forms online? That might be a good campaign platform for you. Automating all the outdated systems in Paradise.” I smile and cross my arms, maybe flexing my biceps a little. Or a lot.

Darlene doesn’t blink. She’s impervious to my charm. Her only response is to cross her arms and stare me down. “It’s going to take more than paperwork and bad campaign ideas to fix this.”

I nod. “I’ll pick up lunch from Lyle’s tomorrow.”

Darlene answers by raising one eyebrow.

“And the next day.”

She blinks once. A long, slow, blink that confirms my current status as biggest screw-up ever.

“The whole week?” I’m already sweating buckets, but then Adam looks through the window in the door. He’s mad enough to shoot flames from his eyes and breathe fire.

“That’s a start. But what happens when Georgia’s crew leaves? How are people outside of Paradise going to know how good Lyle’s food is?” She cocks her head and uncrosses her arms, lacing her hands together at her waist.

I want to answer her question by telling her no one will know how good Lyle’s food is unless he starts making good food. But I stop myself. I may be a screw-up, but I’m not a dummy.

Instead, I say, “I’ll make sure Stella posts pics of the crew eating Lyle’s food.”

Darlene offers a tight nod, and I exhale. But when I reach to open the door, she steps in front of me. “A video of you eating, and a good shot of the Lyle’s logo on the cup as you drink a huckleberry shake. Make sure you say something about how delicious it is.”

The thought of drinking one of Lyle’s shakes makes me gag. I love huckleberry shakes, but the berries aren’t in season until June. Lyle uses frozen berries, which make his shakes watery and tasteless.

“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “And you’ll have the permit tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Zachary. I knew we could come to an agreement.” She steps away from the door, and I pull it open.

“It’s Zach,” I mumble as I walk past her back to the sink stacked high with dishes.

By the end of the night, I’m so exhausted that when Adam says he’ll finish the dishes, the only thanks I offer is a grunt. He sends me home with a giant piece of chocolate cake that I’m too tired to eat until morning.

I down it for breakfast with a glass of milk, then send Georgia a text that I’m going to be late. I don’t say why. But Evie has scenes today, so hopefully they can shoot those first.

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