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ZANE: Crashing. Been a shitty complicated day.

LIESEL: It’s always complicated with you.

And to make shit more complicated tonight, there’s my mom.

MOM: Text me your arrivals times. I need your fiancée’s name for the calligrapher. It’s getting critical.

ZANE: Future Mrs. John Colin Jackson IV - will that fit?

Low and controlled and into the desert air where nobody can hear me I let out a long breath, “FUCK.”

I was hoping the lie might be enough to hold them off for one more contract. But how long can I pull off this ruse without an actual person. I might be able to get through the wedding, maybe. But I need a woman. Maybe Shaman Shelly if she showered.

I make my way to Serge’s office. I need to get a hold of that woman’s schedule so I can avoid her. I’m in a bad enough mood without sparring with someone whose ego matches mine shot for shot. It’s gone that way at every dinner, every event, every gathering where I somehow end up in the same room as Kat Taylor. And although I live to annoy her, I don’t have fucking time. The encounters always end up with us screaming at each other while I try to decide if I want to fight with her or fuck her until she shuts up.

I quickly enter the empty office and pull up her schedule and print it. As I wait for it to finish an assistant stands there. She’s cute in an administrative sort of way.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ritual?”

“Are you married?” She lifts her finger to show me her ring.

“Do you have any single friends who have a loose sense of right and wrong and a free weekend?”

“Get out.”

Was worth a shot.

My phone buzzes, and I check it as I grab her schedule and walk out the door saluting Captain Admin.

Jesus, Kat’s got the whole cleansing path route and none of the spa stuff scheduled. That sucks. Iridology, Path Reading, Warm Herb Bolus Massage, which is so freaking uncomfortable. They tucked me in a loin cloth and I had to keep yelling, “Bad Touch.”

I don’t like her but every Shaman has some stank ass breath. And to top off her day she’s got that nightmare silent hike. This is punishment, not enlightenment.

MOM: Could I just have her initials please. That’s good enough for place cards.

ZANE: I’ll let you know.

I’m so fucked. Maybe I can Sarah Marshall this situation and use someone from the Fairmont Hawaii front desk. My phone rings, I’m going to send it to voice mail but it’s Colin.

“I’m fucked, man. Fucked.”

“Are you in Utah?”

“Why?” Oh shit.

“Are you in Utah?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh my God.” Colin loses it. I can hear him trying to hold it together and failing completely. “I have to tell Ginny. She thought Kat was losing her mind.”

“Do not tell your wife until tomorrow after I leave. Kat Taylor cannot be part of my day. I need uncomplicated, and she’s not it. Why the hell are they here?”

“Shit, man, sorry. I told Ginny about the place because I thought you were in Florida.”

“That was before Utah not after.”

“She wanted to heal Kat because the break up was dragging on. And she called because she thought Kat was seeing things. Kat heard this laugh and became obsessed. Ginny thought she’d snapped from the detox. She was babbling about a man with a baseball hat at some gong thing. Then Ginny freaking saw you walking away. But Kat doesn’t know it’s you.”