“About that,” Shawn says, glancing over at me. “There is one person with more influence than your father.” She smiles. “Better get a tux, Jamie,” she adds. “You’re going to ask my girlfriend on a date.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
—NOA
It’s fair to say thatJamie and I equally hate our plan. First, he’ll have to convince Jordan’s mother to let him back into the resort. Second, I’m about to ruin Matteo’s life, even if it’s by telling him the truth. None of us slept well last night, listening for any sounds of danger. We know it’s only a matter of time before the fake detectives, or even corrupt members of the Collective, come for us—so we have to be ready.
It’s still early as I walk into my living room, Jamie asleep on the couch and curled up with his back to me. I slip into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. I glance out the window, sighing when I see the gathering storm clouds. It will rain tonight, but at least it won’t be another hurricane. Not yet.
In this weather, the Surf Shack won’t have any customers today. I pour a cup of coffee and walk outside. Although on high alert, we were relieved to learn the fake detectives were detained by the coast guard. Tech sent us all the news alert in the middle of the night. In addition to possessing an unlawful firearm and over thirty thousand in cash, they had drugs on their boat. I’m hoping that means we won’t see them again for a while. At least until Mancini or Jamie’s father gets them freed. We don’t know how far their influence goes with the coast guard.
As I look toward the dock, I find my father sitting in a folding chair,working on his fishing lures. We haven’t really talked in a few days, although I did ask him if Jamie could stay with us. He agreed, although neither of us let him sleep in Ellis’s room. We’ve left it untouched, in case he ever comes back.
I can’t stand the silence between us anymore. I can’t stand the secrets.
A little hesitant, I head down the dock toward my father. When he sees me, his eyes soften and he murmurs, “Good morning.” I sit cross-legged on the wooden slats of the dock next to his chair, almost like I’m a kid again. He’s leaned forward, tying a fuzzy yellow lure onto a fishing hook.
“Is the boy still asleep?” my father asks, concentrating on his small task.
“He is,” I say. “Figured he had a rough day and might need some sleep.”
“He looks like someone beat the hell out of him,” my dad responds. “He the one that had your uncle up at the resort with the ambulance?” When I nod, he does too, as if saying he already figured as much. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Noa.”
“Of course I don’t,” I say easily, and then smile. He sniffs a laugh.
We sit silently for a moment, the sound of waves lapping against the dock, lulling us into a sort of peace.
“I need to tell you something,” I say. My father’s back stiffens slightly, but he just nods for me to continue. “A lot of things, actually.”
“If this is about those detectives,” he says, “I saw it on the news. Besides, I already knew they weren’t who they said they were. I checked up on them after they left. No record of Detective Dickhead or his pal.”
I’m stunned by this revelation. “You knew they lied?” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Figured they wouldn’t come back,” he replies. “They were lookingfor your brother, and it was pretty clear he hadn’t been here in a while. I didn’t want you to start digging and end up in their crosshairs.”
I stare at the side of my father’s face, watching him concentrate on the lure. All this time, I thought I was keeping secrets from my father. It never occurred to me that he was keeping some of his own.
“Why were they looking for Ellis?” I ask him, my heart thumping.
My father’s hands pause in their work. He doesn’t answer right away. I clutch my coffee cup tighter, waiting. But first he finishes tying off the lure and drops it into the tacklebox. He snaps the plastic bin shut, and then shifts in his chair to face me.
“Because I’ve been trying to bring him home.”
This admission makes no sense. My father doesn’t even talk about Ellis anymore. How… when was he doing this? “I don’t understand,” I tell him. He holds up his hand to tell me to be patient while he explains.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he starts, his voice heavy. “Right from the start. It’s my fault your brother left in the first place.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“After your mother died, I… I wasn’t holding it together well,” he admits. “I let the books get behind; I missed payments. Ellis stepped in to help, starting to manage the finances. He was doing his best, working way harder than he should have. I tried to get a loan, but the bank thought we were a bad bet. They feel the same way about all the locals in Cape Hope. Funny, that.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he looks at me again, he’s apologetic.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Noa,” he says, spiking my concern. “It’s not just the easements from the city that are putting us out of business. I made a bad decision, one many of us in town ended up making. I got a loan from Alex Mancini to keep the Shack open.”
“You took money from him?” I ask, shocked.
“I told you it was a bad decision, made in a moment of weakness,” he replies. “And your brother, he tried to explain to me that I screwed up. That Alex would use this to take our business. Ellis told me he had a plan, that he and Felix would talk to Alex and work something out. But then…”
