The Siren, KATHERINE JOHN [positive books to read .txt] 📗

it was clear the camera loved her—but she was too young for the role and must have been holding back, probably out of deference to Stella. She was perfectly cast in Madison’s role though, and she absolutely glowed.

It was a particular form of sorcery, the ability to become someone else on command; I’d seen flashes of it in Stella’s performance, but it was more that she was playing a role so close to herself that the line between her and her character blurred. Cole used to have the gift but had in recent years become a caricature of himself: every role was a more greatly exaggerated version of what had worked for him in the past, as though each time he reached into his bag of tricks, the tools he extracted became blunter.

Or perhaps the parts he’d played were somehow compounding inside of him: in real life he sometimes behaved so much like the fictional characters he’d portrayed in the past, I had to wonder whether the tables had turned and the roles were now playing him instead of the other way around. Like he lost a piece of himself and gained a piece of a character every time he stood before the camera, until he became a patchwork of gangsters, lovers, villains, and gentlemen. Regardless, today Felicity elevated him and brought his acting closer to truth than I’d seen yet.

A flash of lightning too close for comfort drew my eye to the window right as a deafening crack of thunder shook the house. The baby started squalling. To their credit, both Felicity and Cole stayed in the scene, but it was no use. Five seconds later, the lights went out. A collective groan went up from the crew.

“Cut,” Jackson called.

“Everybody take five while we get the generator up and running,” Price added.

Five minutes later, the generator was not up and running. Nor was it ten, twenty, or forty-five minutes later.

We were into our tenth hour of twelve now, Cole had disappeared, and the repair guy for the off-brand generator that our electrical engineer had never seen before was on Saint Ann and couldn’t come until tomorrow. Price, Jackson, and I put our heads together and decided to call it a day. I sighed, frustrated that weather had cut us off for a second time this week. “I’ll have the repair guy come out tomorrow; someone should learn how to run the generator so this doesn’t happen again,” I said.

“And I’m taking everyone out for dinner at Coco’s,” Jackson announced. Off my look, he continued. “As in, I’m paying for it. We don’t even have to tell Cole, wherever he went. In fact, don’t. I’d love to enjoy a night with just my crew. And cast. Everybody but my father.”

Price and I exchanged a glance. “You know Madison’s gonna tell him though,” I pointed out. “She’s been jocking his strap since day one.”

“Well, they’re both missing, as far as I can see,” he returned.

It was true. Madison had disappeared as well, around the same time as Cole. I hoped that didn’t mean what I thought it meant. I lowered my voice. “She’s driving me as crazy as she is you, trust me. But you know we have to invite her. And him.”

He nodded. “Let’s get on it, then. We’ll have at least twenty drama-free minutes before they arrive.”

Coco’s was an open-air seafood and burger joint situated at the end of the jetty that guided boats into the Gen Town harbor. One side of the thatched-roof restaurant overlooked the dinghies and fishing boats bobbing in the port, and the other side a small ironshore beach. Jackson sought out the manager and negotiated a flat rate for food and drinks while our rowdy group took over the place, swamping the bar so badly that one of the sound guys jumped behind the counter to help. Coco’s was not the type of spot where this kind of behavior was looked down on. In fact, the barman, who seemed to have already knocked a few back himself, quickly poured each of them shots and turned up the reggae.

The air was misty and fresh once the rain cleared; the waves pounded the last of the storm’s energy into the sand as the light faded from the sky. Someone handed me a beer and someone else handed me a dart. Before I knew it, I was three rounds deep with Price and Francisco, each of us with a win beneath our belt. And then the steel drums started up. I passed my darts to Brian, filled a plate with fried conch, and sat at a table with a red-and-white-checked tablecloth, swaying to the music in my seat. Stella slid into the chair next to me, picking a piece of conch from my plate with her fingers and dipping it into my tartar sauce, then popping it into her mouth.

“Mmmm…” she said. “I know I should stay away from fried food, but it’s just so good!”

“Get your own,” I teased, protecting my plate with my arm.

“Here, you can have some of my salad.” She pushed a sad-looking plate of dry lettuce and tomatoes toward me, and I laughed.

Tawny sat on my other side with a plate full of conch, shrimp, and peas ’n’ rice. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Stella’s stealing my conch and trying to push her salad on me,” I said. “You better watch out; she’ll steal yours too.”

Stella snatched a piece of shrimp off Tawny’s plate with a wink, then cut her eyes toward the bar. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she drolled.

Cole sauntered over with a drink in each hand, Madison trailing after him like a schoolgirl in love with the prom king. Yep, they’d fucked. It was written all over her smug face. “Hey,” he said when he reached our table. Tawny was the only one who smiled at him, but he sat down anyway, filling the last seat at our four-top. Madison hovered, staring at her phone like it held