UNEDITED
Gemma Alder is used to being the unlucky one in the Alder family: from a nasty rumour about her back in high school to inexplicable mishaps, she seems to be the comical target for unfortunate situations. But if there's one thing she's good...
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Gemma
As I remove the pots and pans needed for prepping tonight's dinner, I recount the events that happened yesterday; the ones that had inevitably led up to Jake and I hanging out at the beach together, as well as the ones that happened during our time together as a couple. I hadn't wanted to spend time on the beach with Jake. Not when I was reading a steamy novel about a plausible romantic relationship between an NHL player and some girl. I don't know where my admiration for hockey romance novels comes from, but I'm not ashamed of it. There's something about the excitement of the game combined with endless soft porn, sometimes combined with a glass of red wine, that makes me a happy camper. That being said, I knew I needed to go with Jake in order to make it look like we're all lovey-dovey with each other. I also knew that I needed to set my plan in motion. After a couple of hours of getting along with each other and throwing playful banter back and forth, I've eased Jake's stress levels and made him feel more comfortable around me; he will never suspect that someone in this very kitchen has laced the alfredo sauce with laxatives.
Speaking of my laxatives, I have a small baggie of them stuffed inside the cup of my bra. The day before Jake picked me up to come on this godforsaken trip, I used my mortar and pestle to grind several pills into a powder form. The very look of the white powder in a small plastic baggie makes me feel like I'm carrying around a baggie of cocaine, but I do nothing but embrace the sense of badassery I feel. It an illusion, I know – I'm not carrying anything remotely close to cocaine in my bra – but it's an interesting concept to play on. It gives me a sense of ruthless gamble.
"Why do we have to make dinner for everyone?" Hanna asks. She's sitting on the stainless-steel kitchen counter, sucking on a mint. I can hear it clank against her teeth every time she speaks.
"Because," Jake sighs as he reviews the recipe we're supposed to follow. "This business trip is all about teamwork and bonding. Cassian and I are being tested to see if our company can work well with Olive's team. If it all bodes well, we should have them secured beneath our belts as investors. It would allow Cassian and I to expand business to North Vancouver and, eventually, to other parts of British Columbia."
"Ah," Hanna nods, biting down on the mint. "I see. Well, I think everything's going well so far. And not just for you and Cassian with the coffee business. Olive, the psychotic bitch, really seems to believe that you and Gemma are a thing. This morning, at breakfast, she was moping around like a daisy in a torrential downpour. It was hilarious."
"Language," Jake mutters.
"I'm not a kid anymore," Hanna snorts. "Besides, it's not like I'm saying the F-word or anything like that."
Jake raises the wooden spoon in his hand and points it at Hanna. "You're right, Han. But one thing leads to the other. If I allow you to say that word, you'll be spewing out words like shit and fuck before you know it. And then who will be held accountable? Me."
