Page 9 of My Grape Crush
After hiring me, Evelyn insisted I live rent-free for the summer totest outwinery life before sourcing a permanent place. Every perk and advantage she’s offered without hesitation.
But too much reliance on generosity can become a crutch.
I came here to stand tall in a new life.
That means accepting the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And the occasional night of brutal hell.
In my tiny bedroom, I peel off every article of clothing that clings to me like a lost child. Unclasp the Tiffany watch Mom and Dad surprised me with before they left town on their South American adventure.This week, they're deep in the Colombian jungle on a trek to Cuidad Perdida. Out of the cell zone for two weeks. We’re a chatty family, so the radio silence has been unusual.
But my younger sister, Amelia, more than makes up for the silence. And she's calling me right on time. Eight p.m. is our magic hour, when my godsons, Alex and Elliot, are passed out full of breast milk, and her husband, Dean, is at the gym, sweating out the stress of stockbroker life.
I’ve barely said hello when she blurts out: “Give it to me straight. How hot is Rhys in person?”
“On the perfection scale of one to ten?” I ask. “Two million.”
“Every detail please,” she moans. “I am an endless vessel of gossip need. Feed me.”
The thread of desperation in her voice is real. Before her pregnancy, Amelia flirted with low-level stardom as a celebrity gossip podcast host. For an ADD chatterbox fixated on dishing dirt and rumors,Easy A Gets the Scoopwas a near-perfect vocation. And, continuing the annoying trend of being the first at everything—periods, boyfriends, kids—Amelia discovered Rhys long before he infiltrated my world.
“He seems pretty down to earth,” I say.A little flirty,I don’t say.
“Did you two vibe?”
Amelia white-washed over her jealousy when she found out I would trump her in the meeting-Rhys department, but I hear the slight edge that has crept into her voice.
“I’m his boss,” I say. “Will we become besties? I highly doubt it. After his five-week tour of duty, he’ll be on the first plane out of here. Paycheck cashed.” I stare down at the swollen slabs of flesh supporting me. “Woman with two pieces of plywood for feet long forgotten.”
Amelia makes a frustrated sound. “First of all, get over your feet. Secondly,I will trade you six ways to Sunday for my giant ass.”
“Men crave a big booty,” I counter, although I’m secretly glad she has some flaw. “No guy ever said square and arch-less size-ten pontoons gave them all the feels.”
“Speaking of crave.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Any idea if the rumors are true?"
Men make up fifty percent of Rhys’s fan base, and they shamelessly post cringe-inducing comments on his feed. My gaydar is far from bulletproof, but he did not give off those vibes in the slightest. Not when the fire of his obvious head-to-toe reduced me to ashes.
“Uhm, sorry, sis. You andJust Jaredare barking up the wrong tree.”
“We have no idea what happens off camera,” she flips back. “Sixteen years of posting and not a single pic or video with a girlfriend? Doubtful that a hottie influencer in his sexual prime chooses celibacy.”
The sun has started to set, casting a golden hue outside the “clothing optional” Dani Rialto Resort. My skin feels clammy from sweat leaking out of every pore. I pace around the couch, afraid to sit and getting stuck to the pleather.
“Is it a big deal either way?” I ask. “And why do you care so much?”
I know the answer she will inevitably skirt around. Rhys represents a lifestyle Amelia aspired to as a teen—luxury, the high life. She started her podcast to be one step closer to that fantasy world. Permanent hiatus be damned, the burning need to spread hearsay like butter rages endlessly within her. I’ve often wondered how she sustains her marriage to Dean, her nerdy high school sweetheart and the quintessential guy next door, who considersFamily Guyreruns and changing diapers the height of a Friday night.
“I don’t really care,” she says, backpedaling like I knew she would. “But we have discussed this, and you have on-the-ground intel.”
Her bruised tone lands heavily like the ferocious heat my one struggling fan in the bedroom can't keep up with. I need airflow, or Dani will melt into a puddle. Me and my nakedness beeline for the barn-style door that acts as the east-facing wall. It swings out instead of in, and because of its age and lack of use, the wood has tightened against the frame. It takes serious beef to wedge it loose.
Another thing Zachary said he would fix and hasn’t.
“I will suss things out,” I say, appeasing her. “And I promise to report back.” Pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear, I turn slightly and prepare for contact with ancient wood. “But the odds of Rhys and me hooking up are tinier than an atom,” I add. “And remember what happened with?—”
“Do not utter the name that shall not be repeated in our lifetime,” Amelia interrupts. “And on that slimy note, I have a great story to share."
Before another batch of gossip rolls off her tongue, I bang my raw, athletic ability against the door. But instead of the defiant squeak of resistant lumber, the door flings open.
