quietly, absorbing the day’s events.
“I said, get—off—of—me!” someone screeched into the weary, lulled silence outside the hut. “I’ll go where I want to go, you buffoon! ”
“This is
not
your final destination, ” a distinguished, yet calm voice cut into the stunned quiet that had all of the jurors, including Tara, sitting up in their seats. “Now come with me and I’ll show you to your hut.”
“Fuck my hut, Tattoo! I’m hot and sweaty and I’m sick of you chinky island guys already. I’ve been dragged around Fantasy Island and back again. Take me to my hut and get it right!”
“It’s been a busy day,
Ms. Little
. We apologize for the mix-up. If you’ll follow me…”
The voices faded into the late afternoon and the elderly wo man with the knitting bag, Mary if Tara recalled correctly, began to snicker.
The rest of the jury sat wide eyed and astonished. No one moved as they all looked at one another with shocked expressions.
Tara was the first to recover, her stomach oddly taking a turn for the better.
Kelsey Little, she thought, meet your jury…
Chapter Five
Ain’t life grand?
Y ep, this was paradise all right. Palm trees swaying in the warm tropical breeze, mother-of-pearl-white stretches of beach and a turquoise ocean. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon as the jury left the small golf cart that brought them here, streaks of purple mingled with the orange ball slipping away in the sky.
Tara lifted her face to the breeze, letting it wash over her. Her stomach was somewhere back in the large meeting hut, having lurched and rolled its way to this fine destination, but she was feeling better.
Andy whistled. “Man, this is some place, huh? ” He nudged her.
“It’s fabulous,” she agreed. The perfect place to exact revenge on a stuck-up bitch. A bitch who’d just shown the whole jury what the meaning of the word was.
Men dressed in white uniforms swarmed the dock as they relieved them of their luggage. Tara strolled behind them, luxuriating in the beginning of the end for Kelsey Little.
Meow. That isn’t nice. No gloating, miss.
Right, no gloating. Tara sobered, shaking off the urge to do a cartwheel right there on the dock. Somehow, she figured it might not be appropriate behavior for the foreman of the jury to form a conga line over Kelsey’s pending humiliation on
live
television. Or at least the audience would be live. Guilt tweaked at her gut for like the two thousandth time. She shoved it aside in favor of the warm fuzzy she was getting from successfully making it this far without being caught. Slipping off her shoes, she let them dangle from her fingers and smiled.
“What are you smiling about?” Andy intruded upon her mental pat on the back.
“What’s not to be happy about? We’re in Utopia for a month. Can’t beat that.”
“Whaddaya think about the other jury members?”
God willing, they’re easy to manipulate.
“I didn’t really get to know them well on the flight. Again, I apologize. I was feeling pretty awful, but I hope they’re all as nice as you. ”
His beefy cheeks flushed with color.
They followed the bellhops to rows of thatched huts lining the far end of the beach. Tara wiggled her toes in the silky sand as they made their way across the beach. Each hut sported a label with the names of the members of the jury. A twinge of satisfaction rippled up her spine when Tara saw hers clearly marked as foreman. It was set apart from everyone else’s by at least a half mile of beach, affording her privacy and she guessed, recognizing she was the foreman.
Foreman, as in the head honcho, the big Kahuna, in charge of the whole darn shebang. It didn’t say captain of the cheerleading squad, but it was close enough.
Oh, Hell, this was a mistake wasn’t it?
No, no it wasn’t. Kelsey deserved every last moment of sheer torture for what she’d done to her.
Man up, girlie and stop being a big baby.
Squaring her shoulders, Tara
“I said, get—off—of—me!” someone screeched into the weary, lulled silence outside the hut. “I’ll go where I want to go, you buffoon! ”
“This is
not
your final destination, ” a distinguished, yet calm voice cut into the stunned quiet that had all of the jurors, including Tara, sitting up in their seats. “Now come with me and I’ll show you to your hut.”
“Fuck my hut, Tattoo! I’m hot and sweaty and I’m sick of you chinky island guys already. I’ve been dragged around Fantasy Island and back again. Take me to my hut and get it right!”
“It’s been a busy day,
Ms. Little
. We apologize for the mix-up. If you’ll follow me…”
The voices faded into the late afternoon and the elderly wo man with the knitting bag, Mary if Tara recalled correctly, began to snicker.
The rest of the jury sat wide eyed and astonished. No one moved as they all looked at one another with shocked expressions.
Tara was the first to recover, her stomach oddly taking a turn for the better.
Kelsey Little, she thought, meet your jury…
Chapter Five
Ain’t life grand?
Y ep, this was paradise all right. Palm trees swaying in the warm tropical breeze, mother-of-pearl-white stretches of beach and a turquoise ocean. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon as the jury left the small golf cart that brought them here, streaks of purple mingled with the orange ball slipping away in the sky.
Tara lifted her face to the breeze, letting it wash over her. Her stomach was somewhere back in the large meeting hut, having lurched and rolled its way to this fine destination, but she was feeling better.
Andy whistled. “Man, this is some place, huh? ” He nudged her.
“It’s fabulous,” she agreed. The perfect place to exact revenge on a stuck-up bitch. A bitch who’d just shown the whole jury what the meaning of the word was.
Men dressed in white uniforms swarmed the dock as they relieved them of their luggage. Tara strolled behind them, luxuriating in the beginning of the end for Kelsey Little.
Meow. That isn’t nice. No gloating, miss.
Right, no gloating. Tara sobered, shaking off the urge to do a cartwheel right there on the dock. Somehow, she figured it might not be appropriate behavior for the foreman of the jury to form a conga line over Kelsey’s pending humiliation on
live
television. Or at least the audience would be live. Guilt tweaked at her gut for like the two thousandth time. She shoved it aside in favor of the warm fuzzy she was getting from successfully making it this far without being caught. Slipping off her shoes, she let them dangle from her fingers and smiled.
“What are you smiling about?” Andy intruded upon her mental pat on the back.
“What’s not to be happy about? We’re in Utopia for a month. Can’t beat that.”
“Whaddaya think about the other jury members?”
God willing, they’re easy to manipulate.
“I didn’t really get to know them well on the flight. Again, I apologize. I was feeling pretty awful, but I hope they’re all as nice as you. ”
His beefy cheeks flushed with color.
They followed the bellhops to rows of thatched huts lining the far end of the beach. Tara wiggled her toes in the silky sand as they made their way across the beach. Each hut sported a label with the names of the members of the jury. A twinge of satisfaction rippled up her spine when Tara saw hers clearly marked as foreman. It was set apart from everyone else’s by at least a half mile of beach, affording her privacy and she guessed, recognizing she was the foreman.
Foreman, as in the head honcho, the big Kahuna, in charge of the whole darn shebang. It didn’t say captain of the cheerleading squad, but it was close enough.
Oh, Hell, this was a mistake wasn’t it?
No, no it wasn’t. Kelsey deserved every last moment of sheer torture for what she’d done to her.
Man up, girlie and stop being a big baby.
Squaring her shoulders, Tara
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