Chapter Thirty-Three
LIE
I sit backon my haunches to stare at my nails again. Dirt shoved up under my nails. Embedded into my cuticles. Staining my palms and my knees.
I’m so frustrated and disgusted and just miserable I want to cry.
Laiken said I could quit the post office if I wanted to. I wanted to. So I did. There’s an endless number of jobs throughout the island chain, so it didn’t take me long to find a new one. Why I thought landscaping would be fun is beyond me.
“Because I can keep my earbuds in and not talk to people,” I remind myself
But it’s hot out. The sun doesn’t stop shining. I’m always thirsty. Worst of all, I’m dirty!
I can’t keep quitting, though. That’s not being a responsible adult. The island knows I’m the three-day man. You get three days out of me before I quit without what’s considered a legitimate reason.
Being miserable isn’t a legitimate reason, I suppose. It should be. Whoever came up with the concept that you should stick it out at a place that makes you miserable because that’s what adult responsibility is, should have their head shoved into an elephant’s ass.
A shadow falls over me and I look up. Cash is there, creating some much-needed shade. “Hey, you,” he says, grinning.
I sigh. “What’s up?”
“It took me ages to find you,” he says and drops everything he’d been hauling around. I watch as he sets up a bag chair and then a large umbrella. Last, he hands me a bottle of ice water before taking his seat.
“You’ve come to watch me toil away?” I ask.
He grins. “Nah. Well… okay, kinda. I came to keep you company. And I brought entertainment.” He pulls out the folded newsletter from his pocket.
I smile, shoulders relaxing. “Thanks. Will you fish my phone out and turn my audiobook off?” I rise onto my knees so Cash can reach into my pocket. He fishes my phone out and hits the pause button.
“Deprived. Sounds exciting.”
“It’s really fun. Deprived is the name of a club, but you can only access it like a speakeasy. You have to know where to find it, how to access it, and the password to get in. It’s very sex forward, forbidden, kinky shit inside.”
“So you’re listening to erotica while you plant flowers.”
I grin. “It’s romance. There’s a romantic storyline to every book.”
“Right.”
“Honestly, give it a try. I think your sweet, innocent ears could use a little bit of blood in them.”
Cash laughs. “Whatever. You want to hear the latest gossip or not?”
“Don’t you mean news?”
“That’s what I said.”
I lean forward again, nodding. “Yes. Tell me.”
“The hen from Mr. Morrison’s class has been stolen again. It’s that time of year when pranks are being pulled with bored children out of school. Whoever has Pennyworth, please return her to classroom nine.”
“I appreciate that our newsletters have remained weird as always,” I note.
“I’m still disturbed that no one else finds it disturbing that Mr. Morrison has named his kindergarten classroom’s hen after a murderous clown.”
“Five-year-olds don’t know that she’s named after a murderous clown. He probably did it to scare everyone off. Not gonna lie, I’m a little weirded out by the bird now. I swear it gives me side-eye every time I see it.”
Cash laughs and reads the next bit of news. “Mr. Ryans has reported a pod of dolphins being spotted off the west side of Ceto. They’ve learned some aggressive behavior, so be cautious around them.”
