Passing a dumpster on her way out of the conference center, Veronica tossed the vial of clear liquid away. It wouldn’t do any harm in there. She paused for a minute, realizing that she’d done the right thing for the first time in a long time.

A smile started to spread across her lips.

Ding!

She looked at her phone. Tanner. The smile faded as she read his text.

What’s going on? Have they lost yet? Don’t forget, I can ruin you.

“Screw you, Tanner.”

She blocked his number and continued out of the conference center to her room. She needed to pack and get the hell out of there. The show was over, and so was her job.

Good riddance to it. Sort of. She’d enjoyed parts of it. The organizing. The fast pace. The satisfaction of being the one who made things run smoothly. And even some of the people. Like Gertie. The backs of her eyes pricked as she thought of the old lady. Gertie would have been proud that Veronica had taken the high road and not sabotaged the final challenge.

But Gertie was the only one she’d really miss. Except maybe that annoying floppy-shoed dishwasher. Messing with him had made the day a little more fun. Maybe she should swing by the kitchen and try to be nice to him before she left.

Nah, she didn’t want to see him again, and besides, she’d left him that tip. That was enough. That should make for some good karma for her too. He deserved a tip. She knew the show didn’t pay much, and even though he was annoying, he had worked his ass off at all hours to make sure the set was stocked every day by five a.m. And that had made her look better. That would look good on her letter of recommendation from the show’s producers.

She knew he needed the money. His clothes were raggedy, and he looked as if he didn’t get enough to eat. Plus, it wasn’t her money; she had petty cash left over, and she’d rather see it go to him than back to the show’s fat-cat producers.

She glanced at her arm. Funny, it had stopped itching and was no longer red. Karma?

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

What the heck? Veronica whipped around, her heart soaring when she saw Gertie wheeling herself along the path.

“You’re alive?”

“What? Of course I’m alive! I’m not that old, for crying out loud,” Gertie said.

“Someone said you were no longer with us. I thought they meant you had died!”

“Those idiots. I quit! I’m starting my own gig. Gonna be based in New York City. What about you?”

Veronica’s mind raced. New York. Her home.

“I’m headed back home, which is New York. How’s that for a coincidence?” She grinned at her new friend. Maybe there really was something to this karma thing.

* * *

“To Chef Masters!” The clicking of glasses echoed in the courtyard, followed by laughter.

Raffe and Sarah had joined Dave, Kim, Gina, and Tony at the outdoor bar near their bungalows for a final celebration. The briny ocean breeze chased away the humidity, the sun warmed Sarah’s shoulders, and everyone was happy.

Gina and Tony held hands like teenagers, and Gina again thanked Raffe for his words of advice.

“We may not have won the contest, but we reconnected with each other, and that’s more than money can buy,” Gina said.

Sarah flushed, embarrassed that she’d thought Gina and Raffe had something going on. She’d apologized to Gina, who had simply laughed it off.

Kim and Dave were ecstatic, having gone from homeless to five hundred grand richer overnight. The smiles on their faces lifted Sarah’s heart, as did the knowledge that Raffe had sacrificed his own goal of winning the contest so they could have the money.

“And we’re opening a restaurant right here on the island,” Kim said.

“We’re going to make sure we have jobs for qualified people even if they don’t have a permanent address,” Dave added.

“And we’re going to make sure we don’t waste any food. Unused portions will go to a special food bank for the homeless,” Kim said.

“That’s great. About time someone did that,” Sarah sipped her rum punch and settled back in her seat. Her happy thoughts tinged with sadness. Would Tommy be one of the homeless people they fed? Was he on the island or somewhere else? And if she ever found him, how would she get the money for his rehab?

“We hope you’ll all come to the grand opening,” Dave said.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Raffe pulled out a business card and handed it to Dave. “Let me know if you need any help. I know a thing or two about the business side of running a restaurant.”

They finished their drinks and said their goodbyes after exchanging contact information and slowly made their way toward their bungalows to pack.

A feeling of melancholy mixed with nerves descended on Sarah. She and Raffe wouldn’t be living together any longer. Would he ask if he could see her? Would they date? It was all so suddenly awkward.

She hauled her suitcase out to the living room. Raffe stood looking out the sliding glass door. She glanced out, one last look at the gorgeous aqua seas before heading back to the city.

Raffe turned and pulled something out from his pocket—the ostentatious phony engagement ring that Sarah had thrown at him.

“I don’t suppose you want to put this back on?” he asked, waving it back and forth.

“Oh God! No!” Sarah replied, laughing. “No offense, but that can be thrown in the trash for all I care. It’s not my style.”

“Well, how about this one then?” Raffe pulled out another ring, this one a tiny stone flanked by brilliant, sparkling sapphires.

Sarah froze. “Wha… wha… what’s that?”

The ring was identical to the one her grandmother had, the one she’d said she would want if she were to pick her own engagement ring. But surely Raffe wasn’t asking her to marry him. She liked him, but it was too soon for that kind of commitment.

Raffe laughed as he grabbed her hand and slid the ring on. “Don’t worry, it’s not what you think. It’s just a promise. A promise of a good friendship and maybe more. I saw it in one of the shops downtown and thought of you. I want you to have it as a memory of this crazy time we spent together.” He reached into his other pocket and handed her a piece of paper. “Oh, and this is for you too.”

Sarah unfolded the paper and smiled at the yellow smudge of egg yolk on one of the corners. Inside was the contact information for a rehabilitation center in upper New York state, one Sarah knew as one of the best in the country. And very expensive. It was a great gesture, but unfortunately they hadn’t won, so there was no way she could help her brother get there now.

She looked up at him with questioning eyes. How had he even known about Tommy?

“Before you say anything, I know about Tommy. I know you agreed to be in the contest to help pay for his rehab. And I ruined that for you by losing on purpose. So I want to give you the money to pay for his rehab. But, there’s a hitch, and you sort of have to repay me.”

Sarah didn’t know what to say. She was suddenly suspicious. She’d never accept that kind of money unless she could repay it, but that would take a lifetime on her salary.

“Hitch?” she croaked out.

“Yes. You can repay me by coming to work at EightyEight, the new restaurant I’m opening in New York. I want you to be my executive chef.”

* * *

TJ asked the cab driver to pull beneath the bridge and keep the meter running. He got out, stretched, and looked out at the ocean for the last time. It had felt weird riding in a cab, even weirder that he was going to the airport, but the five hundred bucks he’d gotten allowed him to buy a plane ticket. He was heading home with some of the meager savings he’d accumulated from the job.

The show had been the only work he’d been able to get in months. He hadn’t cared about the show or the work, he only wanted to save enough to make the final payment on the debt he owed and get back to New York.

He didn’t even know when the show would air or the chefs who had competed. He’d kept to himself and hadn’t made any friends. Well, except Gertie and that feisty blond lady who was always yelling at him. Not that he could call her a friend. Still, there was something about her. What did it matter? He’d never see her again.

He jogged over to a beat-up tent and poked his head inside. Grabbing his worn, dingy duffel bag, he turned around and walked to the small group of people huddled in a circle.

“Hey, guys, it’s been real. Someone can have my tent. See you around!” They each shook hands and hugged. No one asked where he was going or what he was doing. That’s how the homeless community worked. No questions, just good wishes.

As he returned to the cab, someone came up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see one of the homeless people he’d become sort of friendly with. Bob, though TJ didn’t think that was his real name.

“Hey, good luck, man,” Bob said.

“Thanks.” TJ held out his hand and clapped Bob on the shoulder. “You too.”

“Keep safe, TJ. Someone came by looking for you, but we didn’t let on that you lived here.” Bob nodded and then turned with a little wave and headed down the beach.

Good man.

Many in the homeless community had something or someone they were running from, and TJ was no exception. It was agreed upon that, if anyone came looking, they kept their mouths shut.

But TJ wasn’t worried about the people looking for him anymore. He’d sent the final payment for the drug debt he’d accumulated before he got clean. That’s why he’d been working every job he could and living in a tent instead of an apartment. Every penny went toward paying that debt.

And now, thanks to that five-hundred-dollar tip, he even had enough money to get back home. He knew a halfway house that would put him up until he found a job and was able to save enough for a security deposit. The prospect of getting an apartment and starting over lightened his step.

He could even finally contact his sister, Sarah. He knew he’d hurt her when he’d dropped out of sight, but he’d been terrified the bad guys would hurt her in order to get the payment from him, so he’d broken all ties, even going so far as to change his last name. He only hoped she could forgive him.

He got back in the cab and asked the driver to take him to the airport, looking out the window at the island he had called home for almost a year.

Maybe he’d look up Gertie when he got to New York, see if she had any work for an ex-druggie accountant.

* * *

Tanner Durcotte hung up his phone then wrung his hands. His contact at the show had just informed him that Sarah and Raffe had lost and were heading back to New York.

His joy over their loss was tinged with confusion. His contact said that Sarah and Raffe seemed happier than when they first arrived on the island. How could that be? Had that idiot Veronica somehow made things worse? He couldn’t ask her because she hadn’t answered his calls or texts in more than a day.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Veronica had screwed him over. You couldn’t trust anyone these days. And if his contest informant was right, Veronica had totally gone rogue. She hadn’t even tried to use the secret weapon!

He glanced at the framed photo of his wife. Emily would not have approved of what he was doing. Emily would have told him to be nice, to do unto others as he would want done to himself. Emily had believed in all that golden rule jumbo, and look where that had gotten her. Stage four cancer and gone in six months.

That had proved to Tanner that there was no such thing as karma. If there were, Emily would still be alive. She was the sweetest, kindest person he’d ever met. And when she died, part of Tanner died with her. The nice part. Now all he had left was bitterness and anger.

And that bitterness and anger needed to be fed, so Tanner wasn’t about to give up on his quest to hurt those who screwed him and caused the failure of his fashion company. He would have his revenge. Now he had a new enemy to add to his list—Veronica—and rumor had it she was also coming back to the city.

“That’s okay,” he said aloud to himself. “Come back to New York. I’m waiting.”

Will Veronica really change her ways? Find out in book 3 of the Corporate Chaos series - join my email list to get an email about my latest book releases: