Safe is a Story
The golf cart hummed like a bored bumblebee trapped in paradise as Harmony steered up the curve of Crescent Avenue, slipping through streets crowded with tourists looking everywhere at once. Avalon was alive in the beautiful morning, unconcerned that another person had been killed. Life must always move on. The dead were only mourned for so long.
Harmony and Cass rolled past white stucco homes and shop windows polished to a shine. Harbor bells clinked softly, like bracelets on a wrist. The world kept spinning.
Cass braced one foot on the dash as the wind gave her a free blowout that normally cost her a few hundred at a salon. “You drive like we’re being chased, Cuz.”
“We are,” Harmony said, easing around a couple hauling a cooler that was most likely full of beer.
“Followed by who?”
“Not who, but what. The story is chasing us.”
Cass laughed. “I’d think you’d stop then. You’re always looking for the next great story.”
“I don’t like this one,” Harmony told her.
Cass nodded in agreement. “Is this the equivalent of existential road rage?” She glanced over her shoulder at the bay that promised so much and delivered very little.
“Road rage isn’t always a bad thing,” Harmony said with a wink.
“I think we’ve become far too much a part of the story the island’s writing. I don’t like it,” Cass told her.
Harmony checked her mirror before making a sharp turn. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Well, with everything going on, it’s definitely a dangerous thing.” Cass nudged her. “You haven’t been sleeping. I catch you staring at shadows like you’re about to step inside them. It worries me.”
Harmony considered that. “I love danger. I don’t know why, but I do. I write about so many exciting things that it’s sort of fitting to be living like we’re in a book.”
“Adventures that end in death aren’t exciting. Normal people call that terrifying,” Cass pointed out.
“I’m not scared. We can live our lives or hide in fear. I choose to live. Besides, details matter. If more people actually paid attention to what’s around them, they’d be in a lot less danger.”
Harmony tapped the brake at a crosswalk. Tourists drifted past, plastic cups in hand, wearing fresh sunburns. A little girl pointed at the Casino as if it might launch into the sky.
At the corner near the arcade, a deputy’s SUV sat in the shade. One of the deputies leaned on the hood with a to-go cup in hand, gaze sweeping the street. He had the kind of stillness that saw too much when no one noticed they were being tracked.
Cass’s laugh rang out, bright enough to make a few heads turn. “Go left. I want to climb a hill.”
Harmony twisted the wheel and climbed past houses stacked together like coral. Golf carts nosed out from carports as wind chimes sang in the breeze. Below, boats glittered in the water as music floated up the hillside.
“Do you feel the charge in the air?” Cass asked, sounding genuinely happy.
“I’ve felt it since the moment we stepped off the boat on day one.”
“I think murder puts a charge in the air,” Cass said.
“Maybe. Or maybe it was always there, and the murders just made everyone admit it,” Harmony replied.
They crested a ridge where the road narrowed to a ribbon and the ocean fell away from their view.
Cass drummed her fingers on the bar in front of her. “Okay, Cuz, say the creepy things you’ve been holding in.”
Harmony smiled. “Hmm, so many options.”
“That’s very true when it comes to you.”
“It’s not murder if you yell . . . surprise,” Harmony said.
