I huffed out a groan and walked across the driveway with Mel, who was doing a solid job of pretending she wasn’t tracking Bethany’s every breath. We stopped to say hello to everyone we passed and I did a solid job of pretending I didn’t notice all the uncomfortable silence that descended when they caught sight of me.
I thought people were bad at talking about death but it turned out they were so much worse when it came to talking about your family’s criminal enterprises. Who would’ve guessed?
Mel filled the awkward moments because she knew everything about these people and their businesses, but it served as a reminder that I wasn’t part of this town in any true way. Farmers markets and festivals were not my way of life, and small-town politics annoyed the hell out of me.
We’d moved here when I was sixteen and my dad’s uncle Buckthorne wanted him to take over the oyster company after building it up over sixty years. Lance Du Jardin had been my first friend—and arguably my only true friend since everyone else had long since selected their circles. For reasons I hadn’t understood at the time, Lance belonged to all of those circles while also belonging to none of them. He was a happy stray who made a habit of smoking weed and getting kicked off various sports teams within a few weeks of making the roster.
Amazingly, none of this disqualified him from being tasked with babysitting his sister all summer long.
The same sister who’d grown all the way up and wouldn’t get the hell out of my mind.
A swift elbow to the flank tore my attention away from the golden highlights running through Sunny’s long hair. I swung a glare toward Mel as she whispered, “Be cool. Be fucking cool, okay?”
“Then keep your elbows to yourself.”
Bethany swayed toward us. That was how she moved, as if she was at least partially possessed by salsa music. She had some kind of shimmer on her lids that made her eyes look enormous and her lips were painted watermelon pink. I could understand why Mel was losing her shit.
“Hello, hello, neighbors,” Bethany sang as she approached. “Isn’t it a gorgeous night? So gorgeous. And so happy we could steal you away from the oysters.”
Mel made a sound like she was choking on a rock.
“It’s easier to get away on a Monday,” I said.
“Yeah, I bet.” Bethany held out her tray, her gaze trained on Mel. “Could I tempt you with a taste of my juice?”
Mel wheezed so hard I started to think she was actually choking.
“I press it all by hand,” she continued. “The yellow one is my Firepower shot. It’s apple, lemon, ginger, and cayenne. It heats you up from the inside out.”
At this point in Mel’s grunting and huffing, it seemed like she was a second or two away from tossing the tray and throwing Bethany over her shoulder. And if Bethany knew what she was doing, she was playing it real cool. That wastalent.
“I call the red one Sailor’s Warning. It’s beet and pineapple, and it makes you feel bright and alive.”
I reached for that one and knocked it back. “Oh, that’s fantastic.” I grabbed another while Mel went on staring at Bethany. “I thought the beet juice was going to taste like dirt but it’s excellent.”
Bethany grinned. “If you liked that, you’re going to love these cookies.”
I took one of each of the plate-sized cookies. “Did you make these too?”
Bethany laughed and I could feel the intensity rolling off Mel. Her discomfort made this field trip worth it for me. Ten out of ten, highly recommend watching a friend torture themselves over a woman.
“I don’t,” Bethany said. “Muffy is very particular about who she allows into her kitchen. But sometimes, if I make her coffee just the way she likes it, she’ll let me scoop the cookie batter onto the baking trays.” She leaned in close, still swaying, still possessed. “I never let her see me lick the batter off my fingers though.”
“Right.” Mel took the juice tray from her and handed it to someone passing by. “Okay.” She handed me the cookies. “That’s enough. You’re coming with me.” She took hold of Bethany’s upper arm and towed her around the far side of the building.
Alone, I bit into one of the cookies. It was rich and outrageously chocolatey, and it gave me something to do while watching Sunny tell a story with her whole body. I couldn’t hear her from here but it was better this way. I could watch her without wondering why she didn’t have her service dogs nearby or mentally compiling a list of issues to address around the café. Better exterior lighting came to mind immediately.
It also gave me a chance to watch the people listening to her. I had to imagine people liked her when she wasn’t running around and screaming at them about real estate mishaps.
She was open in a manner that drew in people who enjoyed that sort of presence. She was warm. Engaging in an honest, authentic way. If I looked at it from a certain angle, I could understand the appeal. For other people. I didn’t see it. I didn’t care. And neither did she.
I didn’t think anyone else noticed when her eyes landed on me and the pause between her words consumed an extra beat, but I saw every ounce of it. Right beneath that warm surface was a cold shoulder that froze me from all the way across the patio. Yeah. She was as honest as the fucking ocean, wide open and crystal clear.
The group around her swelled and I ended up staring at the back of the burger guy’s head which interested me not at all. As I devoured another cookie, this one composed of chocolate and cranberries and corn flakes, of all the ridiculous things, I moved closer to the circle surrounding Sunny. She was talking about an issue they’d had with tile installation, and when she glanced around her audience this time, her gaze settled on me for a moment.
She rubbed her temple, flipping me off in the process, and the small, petty part of me rejoiced in forcing a real reaction from her. I’d nearly died waiting on a taste of that fire.
With that victory in hand, I shifted away from her legion of adoring fans. There was no reason to expect another round with Sunny, and I knew she didn’t mind handing me my ass in front of a crowd. It was time for me to get the hell out of here.
