Page 38 of Get Lost

Chapter Fourteen

Kelsey’s worst nightmare stared up at her from the screen of her cell phone. It wasn’t an annoying countdown reminder from Alexander.Thatparticular text had woken her up this morning to let her know she had only one more sleep until she was in Barbados with that annoying man.

And it wasn’t an alert from Venmo, announcing that Alex had once again refunded her money for brunch, plus one additional dollar. She’d now earned—for lack of a better word—eleven dollars, so she’d finally given up and transferred the money to her bank. She’d find a way to sneak the cash into his suitcase or something during their trip.

But no, both of those things—his daily reminder texts and his back-and-forth Venmo bullshit—she could handle. She’d even grown to expect these little interactions and actually…gasp… kind of looked forward to them. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone but herself. And certainly not to him. God no. In fact, to his countdown text this morning, she’d simply replied with the middle finger emoji, which he’d liked with a heart.

The man was impossible.

But no, those things she could tolerate. This text, this awful, horrible, no good, stinking nightmare dumpster fire of a text was from Reagan, her best event bartender.

One text. Four words.

My passport is delayed.

Heart racing, Kelsey typed out a reply, then deleted it, then typed out another one, then deleted that one too. She was teetering between blinding rage, complete curl-up-into-a-ball meltdown status, and her usual problem-solver mode, her mind spinning wildly.

She’d made a poor decision when she hired Reagan for this gig, because as amazing as Reagan was—and there was no denying she was an incredible bartender and really drew a crowd—she was the most unreliable person Kelsey had ever met.

Literallyever.

Counting on Reagan was a mistake she wouldn’t make again, but how to rectify it now, with just days until the Drew Harrington and Renee Darcy wedding took place in Barbados?

The more she breathed through the panic and thought about it, the more she realized, painfully, nothing could really be done. It was out of her hands. Thanks to working in tandem with a catering company on the island, she had people in Barbados already lined up to work all three days of the massive wedding, from servers and bussers to food runners and staff to pass out appetizers, as well as miscellaneous staff on hand to cater to the guests’ every whim. But she’d wanted to make sure she had a few of her very best team members for an event of this size—and this level of importance. One of which was Reagan, the best bartender on her L.A. crew. Reagan embodied Hollywood glamour and pizzazz. She’d studied the art of mixology, competed in flare contests against other bartenders throughout the United States and, although she was always travelling the country, showing off her skills, she always made time to help Kelsey out with events that Kels wanted to beespeciallyspectacular. Like a certain YouTuber’s bar mitzvah last year, that Playboy model’s fortieth birthday last summer, and this upcoming wedding in Barbados.This huge, extravagant,expensivewedding in Barbados.

And now Reagan was flaking out because she clearly hadn’t started the passport process back when Kelsey had originally hired her for this event.

And paid for her flight.

Kelsey let out a roar that morphed into a whine of anguish, then threw her phone onto her bed. “Shit!” She pressed her palms into her eyelids. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”She howled again, frustration coursing hot through her veins.

“What is it?” Nessa called from her room down the hall.

Kelsey froze, then smiled as she did a slow turn toward the hallway.Sweet, beautiful, life-saving Nessa.

The pink-haired answer to Kelsey’s problem watched her from the doorway of her room.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”Nessa scanned the room for predators.

Nessa was an incredible bartender.

She was also an incredible friend.

Andshe had a passport. Kelsey knew that for a fact because just a few months ago, the girls had all been booked for a trip to Costa Rico that never happened because Brea’s ex was an asshole.

“It sounded like a seal got clubbed in here or something.” Nessa’s gaze flicked around the room again, then landed on Kelsey’s face, zooming in on her smile.“Why are you smiling like that?”

“How much do you love me?”

Nessa frowned. “This feels like a trick question.”

Kelsey feigned innocence. “What? Of course not.”

“What is it? You want Lucky to make breakfast again?”

Kelsey considered this question, though the answer was obvious. “Well, yeah. Always.” Men who could cook… ah, perfection.

Lucky poked his head into the doorway behind Nessa. “You want nakey brunch, Kels?”

---