Page 44 of Pick-Up
I pull my phone out: there’s a text from Celeste. I quickly click on it in case it’s about the kids.
Sash! Code red!
I have a small heart attack.
I finally realized why Demon Dad looks so familiar to me!
In that moment, sensing an energetic shift in the room, someone new and important entering the vortex, I glance up. And there is Ethan, standing in front of me.Ethan. On this deserted island. Looking drop-dead. In shorts. I drop my phone.
“Hi, Sasha,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Us both being here, on a private island, with all the lizards.
Michael scrambles to grab my phone off the ground, dusting it off and handing it back to me. I take it numbly and murmur thankyou. What planet am I on? Am I dead? And, if so, is this heaven or hell?
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Michael looks confused. “Showing you to your room, miss?”
“What amIdoing here?” Ethan asks, pointing to himself.
“Yes.”
“Me?”
Michael’s gaze ping-pongs between us.
“Yes! That’s what I asked: What areyoudoing here?”
Derek walks up before Ethan can respond. He is also in shorts and a T-shirt, only it’s all black and somehow incongruous. Like his resort wear is in mourning.
“Oh, good!” he says. “You’ve met! I came here from my room all ready to do charming introductions.”
“Well, don’t let us stop you.” Ethan smirks, slipping his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. Like he could do this all day.
“Okay! Ethan, this is Sasha Rubinstein. The amazing video producer I’ve been raving about, who has swept in at the last minute to save us all.” He turns toward me, squinting through his glasses against the sun. “Sasha, this is Ethan Jones. Our incomparable newish editor in chief, who will guide us all toward manifesting a remarkable shoot and lifting the magazine from the ashes! We worked together before at another publication too, so I know his excellence to be fact.”
My mouth drops open. My phonebings with a text from Celeste. I look down dumbly.
He’s the new EIC at ESCAPADE! I totally styled for him when he was creative director at another magazine!”
I look up at Ethan’s grill.
“Nice to see you,” he says, grinning.
I stare at him, dead-faced. “Seriously?”
Derek senses something is up. Probably because it is deeply obvious. “Do you guys already know each other?”
“A bit,” says Ethan. “Our kids are in school together. I recently gave Sasha some jogging tips in the park. So, I guess I’m kind of like her running coach.”
“That is definitely not accurate,” I counter.
Derek looks from Ethan to me, then exhales sharply. We are clearly stressing him out.
“Rum punch?” offers a waitress who has approached with a flower behind one ear.
Derek takes a glass and chugs its entire contents, then returns it to the tray. I have known him for no time and know this is out of character. He is about PowerPoint proposals, not piña coladas.
Why is he so tense?
