Page 69 of No Time Off

“Another time wouldn’t hurt,” I said.

He sighed. “Okay. We carry the food into the kitchen, and at some point, we slip away to find Slash. We do what we need to do to get him back to the truck and out safely.”

I shook my head. “Manny, I’ve been thinking it over, and we need to revise the plan. I’m the only one who is going to slip away from the kitchen to find Slash. Two of us together is too noticeable, and I’m more likely to be able to talk my way out of a situation if I get caught. I’m less threatening than you and less threatening than both of us together.”

“I don’t like that plan. What if you’re recognized?” Manny asked.

“What if I’m not? No one is going to be looking that closely at me. I’m a lowly kitchen worker who will have her hair tucked up under her hat. And even if I’m unsuccessful, you can go back with the truck and figure out something else with the prime minister.”

“There’s no time for anything else,” Manny said.

“For Slash and me, no. But for the Cook Islands, yes. We’ve given our government enough fuel to come take a closer look at things. They’ve also passed the information on to the proper authorities in New Zealand and the UK. Shi’s plans are not as foolproof as he thinks.”

“Forget Shi for the moment,” Manny said. “I think we have a better chance together.”

“We don’t.” I put a hand on Manny’s arm. “Look, I’m going to get Slash out. I’m resourceful, you know that. You have to trust me. Okay?”

He scowled. “You waited until the last minute to spring this on me because you knew I wouldn’t like it.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But Slash and I have done this before. We’ve been in dangerous situations, and we’ve always been able to find a way to get through it. We’re good at that. We’ll do it again this time, but I need you to let me do it alone.”

He exhaled, clearly conflicted. But finally, he spoke. “Obviously, I’m out of my depth here. I won’t overrule you, Lexi. We’ll go with your plan if you insist. As long as you let Sefina disguise you a bit more and you answer a question for me…honestly.”

At this point, I would tell Manny almost anything he wanted to get his cooperation. “Sure,” I answered, looking him straight in the eye so he knew I was being honest.

“People with your level of experience in ‘dangerous situations’ don’t just magically appear in a crisis except in a thriller novel. Are you really on your honeymoon, or is it a cover?”

I hadn’t expected that question, but I answered it. “We’rereallyon our honeymoon. Trouble just seems to follow me like a shadow. Sometimes I look and it isn’t there, but it seems to dog my every footstep. We came here—the remotest island we could think of—for our honeymoon, and look what happened. I don’t know if I brought the coup or the coup brought me. But here we are. And thank you, Manny, for letting me do this on my own. I’m going to save Slash.”

“Don’t make me regret my decision,” he said gruffly.

“I won’t,” I promised. “I have too much at stake.”

We went out to the truck and Ari introduced us to Sefina and Amiri. Both were in their mid-forties and reserved. Amiri stood over six feet with dark hair shaved close to his scalp and strong arms. Sefina was tiny—at least compared to me—at maybe five feet one inches, with silky black hair that fell to her waist. They were willing to assist us, even if they weren’t exactly sure what they were doing. According to Ari, they only needed to know they were helping the prime minister against the coup, and they were fully in.

I’d never appreciated two strangers more.

“Just remember, do everything like you always do, but in slow motion today,” Ari instructed them. “That’s it.”

While Manny, Amiri, and some other workers began loading the truck with sacks of flour, cartons of canned goods, and fresh produce, Sefina led me into the back room to help me look more like an islander and less like a so-called American terrorist. She pulled a chair between a couple of crates and a tower of canned goods and made me sit down. Then she turned a wooden crate on its side and perched on it so we were face-to-face.

She pulled off my hat and then removed my ponytail scrunchie so my hair tumbled down past my shoulders. For a long moment, she studied me. “You’re going to need lotion and bronzer,” she said and hopped off the crate. “A lot of it.”

She came back a minute later with a small bottle of what looked like oil, a compact, and a large makeup brush. She first opened the small bottle and poured something into her hand. She then rubbed both hands together and slathered it onto my cheeks, chin, and forehead. It was cool and slippery.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s tamanu oil,” she replied. “It’s a nut oil made by pressing the seeds of the tamanu tree. It’s primarily used by Polynesian women as an antiaging strategy, but it also helps to moisturize the skin so the makeup I’m about to put on your face will stay put for longer. Especially since you have such dry skin.”

When she finished, I reached up and touched my cheeks. “Wow, it feels really soft, not greasy like I expected.”

“Your skin has already absorbed it,” she said, examining her work. “It’s soothing.”

She was right. I made a mental note to buy a bottle or two before we left the island…ifwe were able to leave the island alive.

Next, Sefina flipped open the compact and began deftly applying the bronzer to my cheeks and forehead in wide strokes.

“Easy with the brush.” I winced.

---