Luna-Sea

by Jessica Sherry

  “He confessed, didn’t he?”

  “Yep. That was good ‘nough for me, the school board, and the judge who decided in our favor when the school tried to sue Ally for being negligent. But, Ally suspected he was lyin’.”

  “If he didn’t do it, then who did?” I prodded.

  Dave shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter, I guess.”

  “I was surprised to see Ricky at the Peacock party,” I prodded on.

  “Was he there?” Dave returned hesitantly. “I didn’t notice. So, what can I help you with today? I’ve got a ton of paperwork-”

  “Oh, I understand,” I cut in with a dismissive wave. “My desk is overflowing with paperwork, too. Better get back to it. It was nice to meet you.”

  Real customers shuffled in behind me, so Willie and I took the side door, cut through the small lot of bikes, dune buggies, and golf carts, and exited through the back alley. My store was left open and unattended, but stupid me. Where had Ricky and J.J. gone?

  The alley was empty except for a few cars, most likely belonging to the business owners. I slipped by The Sparkling Gem, a restaurant, a couple bars, and came to a stop at the end of the strip, behind Tipee Tattoo. Voices drifted to my ears. I slowed at the corner and peeked around the edge. Ricky Wakefield and J.J. had met up with a younger, but just as scruffy teenaged boy. He handed Ricky a small wad of cash. But, after consideration, Ricky grabbed the boy by the neck of his t-shirt and pushed him against the brick wall.

  “Shit, man!” the boy exclaimed.

  Ricky leaned in, enjoying his power over him, and said, “Deal’s a deal. Where’s the rest a my money?”

  The boy scrambled to pull another twenty out of his jean pockets, and Ricky let him go. J.J. laughed when the boy fell to the ground. Spawned by his friend’s delight, Ricky added a quick kick to the boy’s side.

  “Don’t screw with me, kid,” Ricky warned, as he fled toward Coral Avenue. Ricky and J.J. shared a chuckle and turned toward the back of the building, where I was crouched behind the corner. Shit! I bolted away from the corner and wedged myself behind the nearest dumpster, pulling a reluctant Willie back there with me. I gave Willie the shhh signal, hopeful he’d catch my drift. The dumpster reeked and oozed like it belonged in a biological hazard bag. Made sense. It was the dumpster shared by the tattoo joint, Loco Fish Taco, and The Spittoon Saloon – not a lovely bouquet of odors. Willie sniffed frantically.

  “I hate this fuckin’ town,” Ricky spat out angrily. “Don’t know why these assholes think they can pull one over on me or tell me what to do. Once Hyde’s done, we’ll have ‘nough to teach ‘em all a lesson. These fuckers have done nothin’ but underestimate me. Well, they’re gonna learn the hard way-”

  “Whatcha gonna do?” the taller one asked as they strolled by, thankfully unaware of my presence. I leaned down, knees to ground, so I could be face to face with Willie. He couldn’t give us away now. J.J. sputtered out a nasal laugh, like he tried but failed to be really maniacal.

  Ricky huffed. “Somethin’ epic, but first, gotta make sure Hyde’s done his part.”

  J.J. laughed. “Whatcha goin’ to do if he don’t?”

  “Don’t you worry ‘bout how I handle my business,” Ricky warned, “so long as I do.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool, man. I know you got him wrapped ‘round your finger.”

  “And he better not forget it,” Ricky added, laughing again.

  The two scurried by my hiding place, and out of earshot. Meanwhile, Willie couldn’t be covert any longer. A cat scooted by the dumpster and set Willie into a barking tangent. He jumped from behind the dumpster to the right, pulling me with him. Further down the alley, on the left side of the dumpster, Ricky and J.J. stopped and stared at us. Willie barked and growled toward the thickets the cat had fled to while I yanked his leash and yelled at him. From their angle, it could appear that Willie and I had just come around the corner – not that we were hiding behind the dumpster listening to their conversation. At least, that’s what I hoped they saw.

  “He saw a cat,” I called down the alley by way of explaining. J.J. shrugged, uncaring. Ricky smiled slightly. Did he know I was listening? Did he care? Why was he staring at me like I was a buffet? I yanked Willie down the alley beside Tipee Tattoo, out of their sight.

  Unintelligible scum littered my arms and shirt. My feet hurt, thanks to my uncomfortable shoes and ridiculous running around, which hadn’t earned me any useful information except that Dave didn’t want to talk about the Peacock party and Ricky Wakefield is a psycho. I almost interrupted what appeared to be their drug deal, and I probably contracted a flesh-eating virus thanks to my brilliant hiding place. I’d wasted time, likely lost customers, and potentially let books walk right out of the store. If I were a mimic octopus, I’d be a perfect replica of the town idiot right now.

  I slugged back to Beach Read.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rabbit Holes

  “Wow, what happened to you?” Chris Kayne asked when I entered the store. I was dirty, grossed-out, befuddled, and breathless. Willie plopped down on the beanbags, exhausted.

  “Fell down a rabbit hole,” I sputtered out. “Can you give me a minute?” I barreled past Chris to the office bathroom. I scrubbed my hands and arms, trying not to accidentally brush up against Henry’s hanging socks that were pinned to a string running from the shower bar to the light fixture. I pulled off my scummy t-shirt, thankful I had a tank top on underneath, and threw the soiled shirt on the floor. Once my hands were clean, I splashed cold water on my face.

  I gathered myself up, and met Chris at the counter. He had placed a short stack of books there, and smiled when I re-emerged, as if he had nothing better to do.

  “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” I said, after a deep breath. He shrugged.

  “Nothing else to do anyway,” he noted.

  I scrunched my eyes together. “You sound bored.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re a scientist in between projects. The novelty of leisure has dissipated. I need an occupation.” He tapped the stack of books. I entered the price of each book, as Chris raved about the upcoming Frankenstein Fright Night. He’d seen the ad in the paper, the flyers plastered all over town (where I could put them; most stores wouldn’t let me), and heard the radio spot on Tipee Island Talk Radio (they even cut me a deal since I had inadvertently given them so much to talk about).

  “Very Vincent Price,” he remarked. I grinned. The radio ad had been an afterthought. I hadn’t wanted to do it. Radio celebrities Milo and Baby Chris had railroaded me over and over with my antics my first few weeks in Tipee. Still, they’d done an excellent job creating a spooky-sounding thirty-second spot. The radio and paying Rachel to pass out flyers on the beach had been my two biggest promotions.

  “I’m really looking forward to it,” Chris finished as I bagged his books.

  “Well, I should thank you,” I told him, “since you gave me the idea.”

  “I did?”

  “All your talk about Frankenstein the other day, and Great Aunt Laura’s attempted resurrection of the dead cockroach,” I said with a chuckle. “That image made the whole thing come together.”

  Chris leaned in. “Any reanimation experiments going to happen on Fright Night?”

  I laughed. “Just hoping to shock my business back to life.”

  Chris smiled. “Anything I can do? You know how much I love this place. I’d be happy to help.”

  “Thanks, but I have everything under control,” I reported, though it was hardly the truth.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Chris asked. “You seem troubled.”

  I smirked. “Trouble is my middle name. How are things going with my cousin?”

  He shrugged. “She’s amazing, but I don’t think she’s that into me. I took her out on my father’s boat the other night, and she made me promise not to talk about science.”

  I pressed my lips together, pained to hear it, and said, “Sorry.”


  “It’s okay,” Chris replied. “No one wants to hear some nerd rambling on about cellular research. What made it difficult was that I wasn’t sure what she would construe as science talk. I got caught up in her instructions and worried that I’d break the rule. Could I talk about the stars? Is that science? Could I talk about the sails on the boat? Was that science? Science is everything. So, I talked about nothing. I’m pretty sure I bored her. I bored myself.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry,” I returned.

  With a short grin, he said, “It’s okay. It’s what always happens.”

  I didn’t pester him about what he meant. The implications were clear. Chris, in spite of his Matt Damon style good looks, fat bank account, and awesome prospects, couldn’t keep a girl – the plight of nerds everywhere.

  “Forget her rules,” I encouraged. “Be yourself. And if she doesn’t see what a great guy you are, then it’s her loss.”

  He blushed, just slightly, and reached into the back pocket of his khaki shorts, where the edges of his tattered notebook poked out. He handed me a disc in a plastic sleeve. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?” When I didn’t take it, he set it on the counter.

  “Security footage from my welcome home party.”

  “Oh, I’m not – I mean, I don’t think-” I sputtered out, looking at the disc like it was a spider crawling to get me. “I won’t have time. Besides, I’m focusing on the business.”

  He shrugged. “Watch it. Don’t watch it. Up to you.” I thanked him anyway.

  “Chris, I’ve been thinking about your mermaid,” I said, shoving the disc under the counter. “The heart is such an odd symbol to use for graffiti. Any chance it could have been done by an unhappy ex-girlfriend?”

  Chris laughed. “I lived on this island for fifteen years and never had a girlfriend.”

  “What about your dad?”

  Chris shrugged, and his eyes dropped. It was an insensitive question, I realized too late. “Um, I wouldn’t know. Don’t think so.”

  “What about David Love? He was so angry with your father at the party,” I said,” and obviously, the heart could represent him. You think he’d do something like that?”

  Chris shrugged and shook his head. “Hadn’t really thought about it. It’s possible.”

  Chris grabbed his books and headed for the door. “Let me know if you need any Frankenstein help,” he said again. The door jingled to life and he left. I found it odd that he hadn’t given the mermaid more thought. With a mind like his, one would think he couldn’t resist puzzles. I slathered my arms with antibacterial gel, contemplating Chris’ gift. Security footage from the party might prove the woman existed, but more than likely, she was never inside the building. What’s the point of watching all that footage if I’ll only end up more confused than ever? I wasn’t sure I wanted to jump down any more rabbit holes today.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mole Crabs

  The mole crab is an egg-shaped commonality on the beaches of North Carolina. These finger-sized crustaceans burrow into the beach and poke their antennae through the sand’s surface, so they can filter feed on plankton as the swash rolls over the shore. The mole crab can hide itself in record time, making it a perfect little spy.

  I was good at hiding myself, too, but real spy work wasn’t my thing. I didn’t want to be a mole, creepily erecting my antennae so I could pick people apart. The DVD rested on my coffee table. I’d spent the lonely evening watching funny cat videos on YouTube, much to Willie’s dismay, but now the security footage called to me like a neighbor kid wanting to play.

  “So, what’s the big emergency?” Raina questioned. She’d arrived at my apartment five minutes ago, twenty minutes after I called her, and she’d brought two ready-to-microwave bags of popcorn.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, taking the popcorn and popping the first bag into the microwave. “I need your help with something, and quite honestly I didn’t want to do it alone and Sam’s busy.” Actually, I hadn’t heard from Sam all day, and our conversations since our almost-night-together had been short and awkward. As much as I loved him, I didn’t know how to get over these blights in our relationship: him wanting to play Dr. Phil to my crazy and simultaneously making me more crazy because he wouldn’t be with me.

  But, tonight wasn’t about that.

  Raina plopped down on my cushy white sofa, and propped her feet up on my coffee table. “So, what’s the hubbub, Bub?”

  I held up the disc. “This is the security footage from the Peacock party. Thought you might watch it with me.”

  Raina nodded enthusiastically. “What are we lookin’ for?”

  “Anything,” I returned. I placed two sweet iced teas on the coffee table, and cued the disc on my laptop.

  Raina tossed some popcorn in her mouth, and said, “It ain’t exactly a Hallmark Channel Original, but I’m game anyway.”

  The enthusiasm swan-dived into tedium. The disc showed six cameras at once, each screen in a small box lined up like a tic-tac-toe board. Kitchen. Lobby. Bar. Hallway leading to the elevators, bathrooms, offices, and study. And then two cameras on the ballroom and dining area. My eyes strained to scan each box every few seconds for the fear that I’d miss something crucial, although I could never keep up. I could only hope that Raina might see what I didn’t. At one point, we divided the boxes between us, but that didn’t work for long. My eyes would inevitably drift over to her side, and vice versa. The only thing that broke up the scenes of nothing was Raina’s occasional gossip sharing.

  “That’s Lucy Monroe,” Raina said, pointing to a perky blond in her thirties. “Town librarian, but not for long. Heard Mama say town’s thinkin’ of doin’ away with that library since no one really uses it.” She then pointed to the bulky Hulk near the orchestra. “Ed Wakefield’s been in some trouble with the law. Used to beat his wife. ‘Course, now that I think of it, Lucius Kayne defended him at trial, got him off with barely any sentence at all, and that poor wife of his had to disappear. Maybe that’s why he’d be invited.”

  “He’s the groundsman, but he seems more like the security guard.”

  “Eww, look! There’s you!” Raina grinned. “Don’t you look pretty! Bored, but pretty.”

  “Thanks.” The camera captured me for just a moment, sitting down at the rejects’ table for dinner.

  Raina perked up again, and pointed to Ricky Wakefield, who had just come in the ballroom. “Now there’s a blast from the past.”

  “Rachel told me all about him,” I said. “That fire at your school’s lab must have been a big deal at the time.”

  Raina nodded. “Ricky was a jerk. What he did to Rachel, showing off her bummer to the whole school, well, that was mean. That Chris Kayne is a cutie.” Chris had come on the scene near the orchestra, late to his own party and surrounded by well-wishers immediately. He checked his phone often.

  “There’s Mama,” Raina shook her head, “always on the prowl.” Clara eased her way over to Lucius Kayne, entourage in tow. “That woman drives me bonkers.”

  I chuckled. “You and me both.”

  “My babies got her in a tizzy,” Raina explained, our eyes glued.

  “She’s excited?”

  “No, she’s bitter,” Raina replied. “The first couple a’weeks she was real sweet and sympathetic. But, then I suppose she figured my grievin’ period was over, ‘cause now she’s just mean as a snake.”

  “What does she do?”

  “Let’s see. Jumps down my throat every second,” Raina reported. “This mornin’ I said I was feelin’ tired, and she said, ‘Well, that’s whatcha get when you’re knocked up.’ When she took me to the doctor last week, she said, ‘Look at Dr. Jenkins and Nurse Jones. These are people who went to college, who ain’t have no babies when they were teenagers’.”

  “Holy Moses, were they in the room?”

  “Yep. And just tonight at the dinner table, Rachel and I were talkin’ about maternity clothes, and Mama said, ‘W
e ain’t goin’ need maternity clothes. We’ll just buy a couple a’tents ‘cause that’s how big you’re goin’ get, Raina’.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are not.”

  “I know,” she said, “and I get that she’s still dealin’ with me and all this.”

  “But, that’s no excuse to be an asshole about it,” I puttered out. Raina’s eyes grew. “Oh, come on. It’s just one little bad word.” I gave her a playful punch on the leg, and she smirked. “You’re always welcome here if you ever need a place, you and the babies. I know it’s not much, but my door’s always open.”

  Raina laughed. “Wouldn’t that just frost Mama’s cookies? Me living with you at Beach Read. Might do that just for fun.”

  “There’s Delores Kenning, off to check on her cats,” I mentioned, as she and her mink left the lobby.

  While it was difficult seeing so much at once, some things were clear. People gravitated easily toward the Kaynes. Boobs were, in fact, everywhere (especially from this angle). And not everyone was in a party mood.

  “Oh, there goes my shoe.” We watched my high-heeled shoe slide from the bar camera and into the main dining room, where it stopped at Chris Kayne’s feet.

  We stopped chatting to focus. Chris, Rachel, and I chatted at the bar, before she waved me off to the bathroom. Delores Kenning came back into the lobby, and headed toward the ladies’ room.

  “Who are those two women?” I asked Raina. They came around the corner from the bathroom, laughing animatedly.

  “Oh, those hussies?” Raina scoffed, and then recanted. “Forgive me. That wasn’t nice.”

  “You know them?” I urged again.

  Raina shrugged. “Every town’s got a couple of those women who ain’t get snatched up outta high school or college like all their friends, and spend every wakin’ minute tryin’ to snag themselves a man. Rachel’ll be like that one day if she don’t get attached soon. I call ‘em hubby hunters. That’s Louise Barnhart and Ruby McQueen. They’re both beauticians at Sweetum’s Hair Salon. Perfect place for ‘em for all the gossipin’ they do-”