Beach Town
Page 43
“Jared?” Greer’s throat was raw from the burning fuel.
“Was he in the white boat?”
Greer nodded. “He was when they left the boathouse.”
Eb pointed across the bay. The white cigarette boat rocked violently in the wake from the explosion, but they could see the silhouette of a man standing on the bow.
“Looks like Jared dodged yet another bullet,” Eb said.
As they watched, they saw a black and white sheriff’s boat racing across the bay. It slowed a hundred yards from the end of the pier, and an officer in the bow of the boat tossed an orange life preserver overboard. They saw an arm waving from the water. The uniformed officer paused, then dove overboard and swam toward the flailing figure in the surf.
“Looks like Kregg made it,” Eb said.
They turned their attention back toward the end of the pier. Through the smoke plumes they saw flames shooting up through blasted-out windows. They heard a sharp cracking noise, and suddenly the tile roof seemed to fold inward on itself. A moment later, the stucco walls collapsed, sending white clouds of plaster into the oily black air. Fire trucks sped past, knocking aside the metal security barricades, and firefighters leaped off and began hooking up hoses to the hydrants at the end of the pier.
But they both knew it was too late. There would be no more dances or movie nights or skating parties for the Cypress Key Casino. No more rock concerts or senior citizens’ bridge tournaments.
Greer looked anxiously up at Eb’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the devastation. Eb tightened his hold on Greer’s shoulder and turned her gently around.
* * *
Arnelle Bottoms met them at the foot of the pier and waved them toward one of the Beach Town tents that had already been commandeered by the EMTs.
“I’m going to find Allie,” Eb said.
“I called her, right when they started racing, to make sure she wasn’t watching,” Greer said. “She was over at the catering truck.”
“Let’s take a look at your hand,” the male medic said, seating her on the edge of a table meant to hold coffee and doughnuts.
“I’m okay,” Greer insisted. “What about the splinter crew that was on the casino roof? And the camera crew in the boat?”
“All okay,” a young female medic assured her. She made Greer sit still while she cleaned and bandaged her cuts. “We transported one of your guys to the hospital with a broken ankle, and a couple other people had facial lacerations from flying debris. Luckily, nobody was inside the casino when the blast happened.”
A thought occurred to Greer. “Where’s Bryce? The director? When I saw him, he was running toward the building, right before it blew.”
“I don’t know,” the medic said. “Was that the guy screaming at the firefighters to get out of the way? White dude? Kinda short with wavy gray hair? Waving a movie camera at the fire?”
“Sounds like Bryce,” Greer said wearily.
* * *
When she’d finally persuaded the EMT that she could walk under her own power, Greer was irrevocably drawn to the end of the pier. The firefighters had commandeered the metal barricades, and a growing knot of people stood quietly behind them. These were not the laughing, jostling movie fans who’d gathered here earlier for a peek at Hollywood magic.
Older couples stood hand in hand, watching as steam rose from the rubble of their youthful memories. Middle-aged couples trained cell phone cameras on the scene, and teenagers exchanged breathless play-by-plays of the big explosion.
She was turning to go when a television news van from the NBC affiliate in Gainesville arrived. An attractive twentysomething black reporter in a sleeveless green dress positioned herself with the still-burning casino in the background and began interviewing the witnesses.
Greer turned to go, but then she heard the reporter announce that the casino’s owner, local businesswoman Vanessa Littrell, wanted to make a statement about the fire.
Sure enough, there was Vanessa, pushing her way in front of the camera. Her makeup was freshly applied. She wore blue jeans and a spotless white blouse. And a serious, tragic face for the cameras.
“As the last member of the Littrell family, I am of course heartbroken by the loss of my family’s heritage today,” Vanessa said, blinking back shiny, perfect tears. “But I thank God that nobody was injured in this unforeseeable tragedy. I pledge to this community that we will rebuild. And the development that will rise in the place of the casino will be a point of pride for everybody in Cypress Key.”
Greer felt a wave of bile rising in her throat. She walked another few yards down the pier and spied yet another television news van. This one was from the Tampa FOX affiliate. A shapely blonde who wore a black pantsuit and a serious news expression was poised by an ambulance with flashing lights that was just about to pull away. The rear doors to the ambulance were still open, and an EMT could be seen bending over a stretcher, just before the driver ran around to the rear, slammed the doors, and sped away.
“Sources say that Grammy Award–winning rapper and budding film star Kregg, who was the male lead in the film being shot here today in Cypress Key, was thrown from the speedboat only moments before it crashed into the casino building, in a collision that ended in a fiery explosion,” the reporter intoned into the microphone. “I am told that his injuries, while severe, are not life threatening.”
The reporter held up her cell phone. “I also just spoke with Kregg’s mother, Anita Thompson, who is also Kregg’s business manager, in L.A., as she was boarding a private jet in order to be by her son’s side. Ms. Thompson said she expects to retain legal counsel to explore the possibility of suing the studio and the producers of Beach Town, for forcing her son to perform dangerous and life-threatening stunts for which he had no training or experience.”
* * *
Greer stumbled away from the scene, knowing only that she had to get away from the noise and the smoke and the confusion.
A golf cart rolled up beside her. Eb was at the wheel, and a tearful, wide-eyed Allie sat behind him.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”
“I just saw the ambulance leaving with Kregg,” she said, glancing over at Allie, who looked away. “They were taking him to the hospital.”
“Arnelle talked to the EMTs,” Eb said. “He’ll live. He’s got a broken collarbone and some cuts. And he’s missing most of his front teeth.”
“Dad’s okay, too,” Allie said softly. “Just some cuts.” She bit her lip. “They’re taking him to the police station, though. Chief Bottoms told Eb that he and Kregg are both gonna get their blood tested. For alcohol. And drugs.”
“Oh, Al,” Greer put an arm around the girl, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs. “I’m so sorry. About everything.”
Allie sniffed. “Me too.” She looked at her uncle’s profile. “I’m sorry about all of it, Eb. Especially the casino. It’s Dad’s fault. Dad’s and Kregg’s.”
“It’s just a building, Al,” Eb said. “Buildings can be replaced. I’ve got everything I need, right here on this golf cart.” He steered the cart off Pier Street and headed for the neon lights of the Silver Sands Motel, where the NO VACANCY sign was blinking on and off.
Epilogue
The rowboat rocked gently on the calm waters of the bay. The heat of the day was past, and the horizon was cast in a golden glow.
Eb Thibadeaux uncorked the bottle of wine, filled a plastic goblet, and handed it to his bride. He shifted his weight carefully until he was seated beside her in the bow. She offered him the bucket of popcorn. He took a handful and munched.
“This is really good,” he said. “Is it the new line you ordered?”
“Yup,” Greer said. “See, I told you the higher price point was worth it.” She took the smallest sip of wine, smacked her lips, and handed it to him. “And this is light-years apart from that swill we used to sell.”
“Okay. You were right again.”
They le
aned back in unison against the waterproof cushions Greer had stacked in the bow. Eb looked at his watch, and then again at the end of the pier.
Or to be accurate, the end of where the pier had stood since the twenties. Today, the only thing still standing was a newly poured concrete pad.
“It still kills you to see it gone, doesn’t it?” she said gently.
He shrugged. “I’m an engineer. I knew all along the casino wasn’t structurally sound. I just always hoped we’d get a chance to fix it. You know, put in new underpinnings, jack her up, and keep going the way we did for eighty-some years. And we could have done that, too, if it hadn’t been for my brother and the artist formerly known as Kregg.”
“At least they’re both alive,” Greer said with a sigh. “Allie already had a wake-up call about her father. She didn’t need a funeral to remind her just how flawed he is.”
“I still can’t believe they both walked away without a scratch. While the casino went up in flames and the pier collapsed into the bay,” Eb said. “And I really can’t believe Vanessa got her way after all.”
“I wouldn’t call having all your front teeth knocked out and a broken collarbone ‘walking away without a scratch,’” Greer said. “Kregg missed half his concert tour. And let’s face it, if Bryce has his way the guy really will never work in movies again. And Jared, he’ll just always be Jared, won’t he? Has Allie heard from him at all?”
“He e-mails, I think. She said Jared swears he’ll be back for her graduation in June. She’d probably talk to you about him more than she would me.”
“Al’s had to grow up way too fast,” Greer said. “But I think she’s having too much fun being a senior, thinking about college in the fall, to worry too much about Jared.”
“Speaking of graduation, I forgot to tell you,” Eb said. “Dearie called me today. She needed some Candy Crush money in her account. And she said to tell you she’s definitely planning to come out for Al’s graduation.”
Greer pointed again at the heavy machinery and the masses of concrete pilings and other materials along the site of the old casino. “At least you got a chance to make sure the new developer’s plans fit in with the rest of downtown,” she said. “I saw the new set of architect’s renderings, and I like the way he’s specified stucco and a red barrel tile roof. It won’t be the old building, but I think the new one is going to be beautiful.”
“Vanessa Littrell wins again,” Eb grumbled. “I know I should get over it, but it still gripes me.”
“What does she win? More money? Money hasn’t brought her happiness before, and it won’t now. Love? Bryce Levy left Cypress Key and never gave her a backward glance. I heard she’s thinking of selling her dad’s house at Seahorse Key and buying one of the new Pierhouse waterfront condos.”
Eb gave Greer a funny look. “What would you say about buying Seahorse Key?”
“For an investment?”
“No. For us.” He patted the slight mound under her cotton sundress. “You and me and Baby Thibadeaux.”
Greer sat up so abruptly the rowboat swayed violently. “You’d give up the loft? Seriously?”
“We can’t raise a baby living over the Hometown Market,” Eb said. “Besides, I’ve been talking to Clint.”
Greer rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to hear what you and my dad have cooked up between you.”
“I think he’s tired of having a full-time home health-care aide checking in on him twice a day. I pointed out to him that there would be plenty of room at Seahorse Key. He could have his own small apartment.”
“And?” Greer knew there would be an and. There always was with Eb Thibadeaux.
“And he could relocate Hennessy Picture Cars to Cypress Key. The boathouse is virtually empty. It’s got all the room he’d need for his inventory, plus plenty of room for his guys to do body and paint work. It’s a win-win.”
“I get it,” Greer said knowingly. “Dad gets more room to play with his big-boy toys and you get access to all the toys. Including the General Lee. Is that how this deal shakes out?”
Eb shrugged. And then he slowly, deliberately removed his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt.
Greer leaned over and kissed him, and the boat swayed so violently it threatened to swamp them both. Finally, reluctantly, she pulled away.
“Your movie’s about to start,” Eb said. He pointed to the movie screen that had been set up near the site of the old Casino, and at the rows and rows of Cypress Key citizens camped in front of it, on lawn chairs, in convertibles, even golf carts.
“I’m still sad Cypress Key didn’t get to experience an old-fashioned Hollywood-style movie premiere,” Greer said. “But what delicious irony that Bryce Levy’s masterpiece turned out to be just as big a dud as he is.”
“Direct to video,” Eb said, savoring the words. “I look at it this way. Beach Town brought Greer Hennessy to Cypress Key, which brought you to me. We lost a casino in the process, but that’s a small price to pay.”
She gave him another fond, lingering kiss. “One correction. Greer Hennessy brought Beach Town to Cypress Key, not the other way around. But the outcome’s the same. A happy ending. And I do love a happy ending.”
They heard the opening thumping bass notes of Kregg’s soundtrack. Eb started to say something else, but Greer placed a warning finger across his lips.
“Sh-h-h. My movie’s about to start.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARY KAY ANDREWS is the New York Times bestselling author of Save the Date, Ladies’ Night, Christmas Bliss, Spring Fever, Summer Rental, The Fixer Upper, Deep Dish, Blue Christmas, Savannah Breeze, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Savannah Blues. A former journalist for The Atlanta Journal Constitution, she lives in Atlanta, Georgia.
Visit www.marykayandrews.com or sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY MARY KAY ANDREWS
Save the Date
Christmas Bliss
Ladies’ Night
Spring Fever
Summer Rental
The Fixer Upper
Deep Dish
Savannah Breeze
Blue Christmas
Hissy Fit
Little Bitty Lies
Savannah Blues
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Mary Kay Andrews
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BEACH TOWN. Copyright © 2015 by Whodunnit, Inc. All rights reserved. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storrings
Cover photographs: beach © Grant Faint / Getty Images; wooden signpost © Nine OK / Getty Images; umbrellas © Leila Mendez / Getty Images
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The Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-06593-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-07723-3 (signed edition)
ISBN 978-1-4668-7291-2 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466872912
First Edition: May 2015