11
Present Day
“—dy! Meddy!” Ma’s voice slices through the room, shattering my sleep.
“Wha—?” I mumble, blinking and grimacing at the bright sunlight. Is it morning already? I feel like I could easily sleep for a whole week. “What time is it?”
“Time to go. You get up now. We need move body and then go to pier.”
The events of last night come back in a dizzying, sickening rush. Jake, the car crash, the—oh god—the body. I bury my face in my hands. It wasn’t a dream. It really did happen. I really did kill a man, and my family helped me move the body.
Ma bustles in and puts a glass of juice in my hands. “I make herbal tea for you. Wake you up. Cepat, drink.”
I do as she says, too tired and dazed to argue, and I hate to admit it, but she’s right. The TCM drink, whatever she’s put in it, does perk me up a little, sliding hot and bitter down my throat. I finish it and have a shower, and by the time I’m dressed in my usual all-black photographer outfit, I feel more or less human and ready to face the gruesome task that awaits us. I send a quick text to Seb, my second photographer, to make sure he’s ready for the day. He’s supposed to get to the resort an hour after I do, to take pictures of the groomsmen while I handle the bridal party. Seb replies with a thumbs-up emoji. I pack my gear in the car before driving to Big Aunt’s bakery with Ma.
As soon as we walk in through the back door, it becomes obvious something’s wrong. Big Aunt and Second Aunt are already there, and they’re snapping at each other in Indonesian, so deep into their argument that they don’t even look up when we walk inside.
“Oi!” Ma has to yell above their voices. “Sudah! Done, stop! Stop arguing, what is it?”
Second Aunt scoffs and releases a laugh that sounds more like a cough-sob. “You tell them,” she says, glaring at Big Aunt. “You tell them what happened.”
Dread is like a stone deep in my belly, hard and jagged. I try to swallow, but my mouth is a desert. Whatever Big Aunt’s about to say, I don’t want to hear it.
Big Aunt’s voice comes out hushed, trembly. “Xiaoling and the mover came early. And—”
I’ve never in my life heard Big Aunt’s voice falter, but now it does.
“And they took the cooler!” Second Aunt crows. “You should’ve come earlier so you could supervise, but you didn’t.” Her eyes are bright with triumph as she turns to us and says, “She overslept.”
Big Aunt doesn’t meet our eyes as she mumbles, “I was so exhausted after last night that I slept through my alarm.”
Ma and I stare in dismay at the spot where we’d pushed the cooler to last night, and sure enough, it’s empty, all three coolers gone. It strikes me that this is bad news for all of us, including Second Aunt, but not even such catastrophic news is enough to distract her from the rare opportunity of rubbing Big Aunt’s nose in it.
“So irresponsible,” Second Aunt says. Big Aunt bristles visibly.
“I’m irresponsible?” she hisses.
Ma jumps in between her and Second Aunt. “Okay, sudah, cukup.” She flaps her hands for a bit. “You better call Xiaoling now, quickly!”
“I already did. She said the coolers have all been loaded up to the yacht.” Big Aunt sighs. “She sounded so happy and proud to have done everything without my help. Aduuuh, gimana ya?”
“We’ll go to the pier now! Maybe the yacht hasn’t left yet!” Ma cries.
It’s left. We’re told this after we arrive at the pier, sweaty and out of breath from running from the parking lot.
“But hey, no worries,” the hotel—what’s the correct title here, yacht organizer?—says. “There’s another one coming in about five minutes. You ladies are early. The one that left fifteen minutes ago was just cargo, right? You’re not scheduled to travel for another half-hour,” he says, checking his tablet.
“We like to play it safe, get places early,” I wheeze. “So, um, what happens to the cargo once it gets to the island?”
“What cargo you got?”
I exchange a glance with Big Aunt. “Um, cakes, mostly. There’s the giant wedding cake and, um, a bunch of other desserts.”
“Okay, that stuff will go straight to the kitchen. We’ve got orders to put them in the walk-in fridge. Sound good to you?”
I nod weakly. “Perfect.”
“How everything go?” Big Aunt says. “Go okay?”
The yacht organizer smiles brightly. “Yeah, everything’s going great.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
We trudge a few paces away from the guy and go into a huddle. “They not know Jake is, you know—” Big Aunt mimes a cutting motion across her neck.
“Big Aunt!” I hiss. “Be more subtle, please.” Just to play it safe, I switch to Indonesian. “Okay,” I say. “Kami perlu uh . . . mikir . . . a plan.” Wow, my Indonesian sucks. I try switching to Mandarin. “Wo men xu yao um . . . xiang . . . a plan.”
Ma sighs. “I spend so much money on Chinese class for you, all wasted.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “Um, so, a plan?”
“Aiya, so simple,” Second Aunt says in Mandarin. “As soon as we get there, we’ll find the cooler and one of us can take it back here. See? Easy.”
“Easy,” Big Aunt sniffs, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
“Why not?” Second Aunt says, raising her chin.
Big Aunt shrugs. “Because it’s never easy. Otherwise people would get away with murder all the time.”
I wince at the word “murder,” even though she said it in Mandarin. And even though I want to have faith in Second Aunt’s simple plan of “get there, find cooler, bring cooler back,” I have a feeling that Big Aunt is right. When it comes to hiding a dead body, it’s never simple—a lesson I’m quickly learning from the previous night.
We gather our stuff from the back of the car and wait for the yacht to arrive. When it does, we sit in silence as the boat roars back to life and heads off from the mainland. Fourth Aunt, being the entertainment, won’t be due at the island until this evening, so Big Aunt tells me to update her through our family WhatsApp. Of course, I can’t say anything incriminating over WhatsApp, so I type out a cryptic:
Hi, Fourth Aunt, there’s been a bit of a hiccup. We’re headed to the island early. Call me when you get this.
Ma, reading over my shoulder, gives a loud sigh. “She won’t see until she wake up after noon, that lazy bum.” Fourth Aunt is the one who gets to sleep in during wedding season and the one who gets the most recognition for her work, and Ma won’t ever forgive her for it, even though it’s technically not Fourth Aunt’s fault. Fourth Aunt loooves rubbing that in Ma’s face. I guess their beef is like Big Aunt versus Second Aunt, going back decades, far older than me and my cousins.
It’s a typical SoCal spring day, sunny and sweltering, wisps of white clouds in the deep blue sky. I stare out at the vast ocean, at the distant strip of land that I can hardly believe is the mainland. From this distance, it looks so small. For a moment, I almost feel better, escaping from everything that’s happened back home, but when the island of Santa Lucia comes within sight, reality crashes back in. I’m not leaving my troubles behind. They’re right here, awaiting me. And for all I know, maybe Xiaoling, well-trained helper that she is, would unpack everything. The thought of her doing that is so vivid. I can practically see her doing it, humming as she opens up the cooler. She’ll bend down, remove all the packets of sugar and bric-a-brac we piled on top of the blankets, until she reaches the blankets. Maybe she’ll stop with a confused frown—why would there be a blanket here—and then she’ll pull the blanket up, and—
A loud horn bellows, and I jump up as though I’ve been electrocuted. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Santa Lucia. We hope you enjoy your stay with us at the Ayana Lucia.”
Gathering my heavy camera bag, I help Ma and the aunties to their feet. They’re all a bit wobbly on the yacht, and cling to my arms as we make our way off the boat. We stagger across the bridge. At the pier, we’re greeted by another hotel manager holding a tablet.
“The Chans, I gather?” he says, eyeing my camera bag.
“Yes.”
He gives my family a once-over, then points to Big Aunt. “Cake and pastries?” he says.
My heart bursts into a gallop. Oh god. This is it. He’s going to tell us that they’ve found the body, and then cops will jump out from behind those columns lining the pier, and then—
Big Aunt must be on the same train of thought as I am, because she’s frozen, a look of horrified uncertainty on her face.
“Hello, cake and pastries?” he repeats. He turns to me, wearing an expression that says Help me out here?
“Um, is there a problem with the cake and pastries?” I say.
He frowns. “No. Why would there be?” he says snidely.
We all visibly sag with relief. “Yeah, she’s the baker,” I say.
“Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he snorts, then hands Big Aunt an ID with her name and the word BAKER on it. “Wear this at all times.” He turns to Ma. “And who are you?”
“Flowers,” she says.
“Florist,” I add.
“Okay, here’s your ID, and you would be the hair and makeup?” he says, turning to Second Aunt, who nods quickly. He hands her an ID and then gives me the last one. I turn it over in my hand, marveling at how meticulously planned this wedding is. I don’t think I’ve ever done a wedding where we’ve had to wear ID cards on a lanyard before.
“I have question,” Second Aunt says.
The guy visibly sighs. “Yes?”
“Erm, your boss—he okay? He very fierce? He in bad mood today?”
He stares at her with the world’s bitchiest expression. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s not like we’re besties or anything.”
She leans closer. “So you not see him today?”
“Ugh, I don’t know. I’m a busy guy. I don’t keep track of everyone who comes on and off the yachts.”
“Isn’t that literally your job? Keeping track of who comes on and off the yacht?” I say.
He shoots me a glowering look and says, “Anyway, here’s your buggy. You guys should go now. Toodles!”
We clamber up into the buggy, exchanging meaningful looks with one another. Still no luck finding out whether or not the hotel knows that Jake’s not turning up today. It hits me that I don’t even know if they’re expecting him here. Last night, he’d told me that this is his seventh resort, so it’s not like he’s expected to turn up at every function that’s being held at one of his hotels. But then this is his most ambitious project so far—an entire island owned by him, and this is the first wedding the resort is hosting, and the bride’s parents are personal friends, so surely he’d be expected to show up and make sure that everything runs smoothly. Which means that at some point, someone will go, “Where’s Jake? Why isn’t he here yet?” and then someone else will be asked to ring his cell, and—
Holy. Shit.
His cell!
In the confusion and panic this morning, I’ve totally forgotten about it. I jump up and almost get flung off the moving buggy. Ma and Second Aunt yelp and catch hold of me, and the buggy halts suddenly, throwing us back in our seats.
“What happened?” the driver says. “You okay? Did you drop something?”
I can only shake my head and wave a weak hand at him, indicating that he should continue. Once I catch my breath, I say, “Kita lupa handphone nya dia.”
“Handphone siapa—oh,” Ma gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Ada dimana handphone nya?”
I don’t know where it is. I shake my head.
“Pasti didalam kantung celana,” Second Aunt says.
His pants pocket. Yeah, that’s a fair assumption to make, and I only checked one. How loud is its ringtone? Would people be able to hear it ringing inside the cooler? They will probably start calling him soon, if they haven’t already been calling.
“Here we are,” the driver says, as the buggy stops at the entrance to the resort. We clamber out and then stop and stare at the grand entrance.
The lobby of the hotel is built atop a hill. The words “majestic” and “hallowed” come to mind. The resort has been designed with ancient Southeast Asian architecture in mind, with richly carved ornaments decorating the giant columns. The lobby is open on two sides, offering a stunning view of the resort and the ocean below. The ceiling is so high I have to tilt my head all the way back to see the top, and surrounding the lobby is a peaceful pond with brilliant orange koi and floating candles.
Despite the gorgeous setting, my chest is tight, my stomach knotted painfully. Ma, Big Aunt, and Second Aunt all wear the same strained expression. We’re greeted by a receptionist, who tries to tell us where each of us needs to go, but Big Aunt interrupts her.
“No, they must come with me first,” Big Aunt says.
The receptionist falters. “Um, but the rooms are in the opposite direction of the kitchen. It’s a big resort. Hair and makeup is expected at the bridal suite soon. If you go to the kitchen first, you might be late—”
“Is okay, we be very fast,” Big Aunt says, rising to full authoritative mode.
“But—” The harried receptionist spots someone and her whole demeanor changes, angling her face in a sweet way and smiling and fluttering her lashes. “There’s the owner. He’ll be able to help with your request.”
The owner? For a second, my family and I freeze, making panicky looks at each other.
“Hi, Jeanine, everything going okay?” a smooth, rich voice that can only be described as molten chocolate says.
“Morning, sir,” Jeanine says. “I was just telling the wedding vendors where to go.” She bats her lashes at him again.
My family turns around and introduces themselves to him, but I’m frozen to the spot. Because even without turning around, I know who it is. I hear his voice in my dreams. I can still feel his touch on me, his strong, gentle hands on my skin.
“And you must be the photographer?” he asks.
Taking a deep breath to try to steady myself, I turn around to face him. The one that got away. The one who took a huge chunk of my heart, my soul, with him.
His smile freezes on his face, and I see years of history fly through his mind as I say in a hoarse voice, “I am. Hi, Nathan. It’s been a while.”