Tatjana Soli - The Last Good Paradise

The beach was lit by oil lamps and torches, although a very expensive light set was ready once the concert started. Wende had finagled an Australian production company to donate it, hinting at future Down Under tie-ins with Prospero. Now, in the last minutes of firelight, a palm-festooned pallet was carried in and set down in front of Cooked and Titi. On it blazed the most gorgeous creation of Richard’s career. At the last minute as it made its way out the door, Richard took Javi’s unorthodox (but inspired) suggestion and set the cake ablaze with the long, slender candles left over from Ann’s birthday.

The cake was in tiered rectangles like the stone ceremonial platforms on the islands; the base was frosted to resemble a white sand beach, with bits of sugar candy molded into seashells; the upper layers were studded with tropical flowers to form miniature jungles; on top was a thatched fare made out of chocolate. Inside, each bite was a treasure of custard and fruit.

“That’s your masterwork, bro,” Javi said.

“You’re right,” Richard said, not tempted in the least to be humble. He snapped pictures with a borrowed cell phone for his future bakery’s menu.

Cooked cut the first piece with a sword that had been in his clan for more than a hundred and fifty years, traded from the first Europeans to land on their shores, and he fed the cake to Titi. After each piece had been put on its individual plate the pièce de résistance came: a puddle of coconut-milk rum sauce poured over it.

The concert audience, which numbered almost three hundred with press and tech help, was quiet, only a murmur of gluttony and clinking of forks audible. Besides the main cake, there were four more sheet cakes set out to feed everyone.

Ann ate her slice and knew that Richard had reached a place of inner peace.

When he walked behind her seat, accepting compliments like his own kind of rock star, she nodded her head in appreciation.

“This is delicious,” she said.

He bent down and took her arm.

“I slept with Wende. When we went out snorkeling? She offered, and I accepted.”

* * *

Ann left before the concert started.

The rest of the island was as deserted as it had been when they first arrived. The palms were like tall, dark back-scratchers leaning against the sky. She pushed out of her mind the knowledge that she would soon leave this place. Richard was leaving, going back to dismantle their old life. All the things in their house that she had taken such pride in, that she’d been so sure she’d miss — the wire egg baskets and chintz sofa and antique mirrors — the reality was she hadn’t given a thought to any of it since she’d been away. The idea of losing things no longer bothered her, but she had never considered that Richard would be among the things gone.

Finding herself in the quiet grove by Loren’s fare , she decided to hide out on his lanai to watch the stars. As soon as she was seated, she heard a shuffling inside. Thieves? The window covering pulled up.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Loren said.

“Why aren’t you at the concert?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Ann whimpered.

Loren sighed. “I’ll bring the bottle.”

When he came out with a lamp, she was startled by the new gauntness in his face — eyes hollowed out, dark circles underneath like he’d given up on sleep altogether.

“How are you?” she said. She had been so caught up in the circus of Wende, Dex, Javi, and Richard she’d forgotten about him.

“I long for this to be over.” He grimaced as the alcohol burned the sores in his mouth. He’d been inside, making order of his things.

Ann nodded.

He coughed. “I’ve been watching viewer hits. The sales numbers. Already this is one of the biggest concerts of its kind. They have done more good here than I did in all these years.”

They drank down their absinthe in a single gulp, and he poured another round.

“Accidentally doing good. You made a real commitment.”

“Pretty Ann has the saddest face tonight.”

“Richard is leaving me.”

Loren shook his head. “Male pride. Eventually he will have to accept your apology. Otherwise he will lose too much.”

“I’m not the same person I was when I first came here.”

“I hope change includes burning that awful brown bathing suit.”

“I lost it,” she said. “So what are the viewer numbers?”

“Millions and millions.” Loren giggled. The giggle turned into a cough.

“We should take you to a hospital.”

“We’re way past that.” He shook his head. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“They’re going to go after Cooked and Titi. You have to help them.”

“Where will you be?”

“Finishing business I’ve neglected.”

“Lilou?” Should she save Loren the hopeless trip? No. She was a coward. “I don’t know the laws here.”

“There’s no one else I can trust.”

Trust. No one at the firm had ever needed or trusted her. She had been interchangeable.

“I won’t leave till it’s handled.” The idea that her staying could be construed as necessary cheered her up.

The incongruous sound of an electric guitar ramped up and ripped the night apart. Then the sound of the audience screaming and clapping. The concert began, predictably, with “Best of Prospero” hits.

“A few days from now everything will be back to normal,” Ann said.

“No,” Loren answered. “Everything has changed.”

* * *

When Ann returned to her fare , Javi was sprawled out on the floor of the lanai.

“Nowhere else to sleep,” he said.

“Where’s Richard?”

“Still signing autographs for his cake. Or hanging with his new pal Dex.”

“Why did you tell him?”

“Jesus, he was letting you go get microwaved.”

“Dex needed me.”

“A worthy replacement. I get it.”

“Richard’s leaving me.”

“Leaving us. No more restaurant. Can you imagine he wants to open a bakery ?”

She had the nasty feeling one gets when it’s obvious that others have moved on without you.

“You two will be together,” Javi said unconvincingly. “Do you have an extra pillow I can borrow?”

“I’m going to be a divorced thirty-eight-year-old ex-lawyer.”

Javi, as usual, only heard himself. “I don’t even blame you guys hanging out here on vacay while I went through hell back in LA. Could you put in a good word for me with Wende? I sense interest.”

Ann went inside and slammed the door.

* * *

The next morning the wedding guests, tech people, and leftover paparazzi readied themselves to depart. The island was trashed. It would take a week or more to clean it up to its former state. Mounds of garbage had been piled in the back against the palm groves. Debris floated in the water — paper, flowers, rotted food, and the occasional condom. Along the pristine white of the beach were smudges of soot from fires like blackheads across formerly flawless skin.

Again, there was singing and crying, hugs and kisses. The resort guests came down to the beach to wave off their new friends, promising to visit on other islands. Javi already had invitations from a dozen females to other villages, and a lucrative offer to be head chef at a resort in Mooréa.

Cooked, moved by the leave-taking, stood on a rock and blew the conch in good-bye. How could Loren explain that this was not a dignified thing for the new owner of a resort to do? If it wasn’t dignified now, why had he been told to do it earlier? Yes, Loren definitely had done his own share of playing big kahuna.

Titi was a whole different story, as women always were. Even though she was the age of his daughters, Titi commanded a maternal authority over Loren. All he ever felt from her was a potent combination of patience, disappointment, and, once in a great while, bad temper. Last he’d seen her earlier that morning, she was ensconced behind a large table in the kitchen, processing applications from almost every single wedding guest. Many of the guests also filled out applications for family, friends, or people to whom they owed a favor. Titi looked tired. No matter who or how many she hired, she would make more unhappy than happy. Chips were being called in: Remember when I did this for you? For Cooked? For your auntie, cousin, grade-school teacher? Your mother said … She was offered bribes ranging from free food, to junkets to Papeete, to outright cold, hard francs. Titi still had not fathomed the extent to which her life had changed.