Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  Pete backed a few steps away from Reese. He gritted his teeth, and his shoulders and head began to tremble. A vein pulsed visibly in his tan forehead. For a moment I was worried he was going to Hulk out and start tearing the office apart. "You'll be sorry," he said, his tone menacing. "Both of you." Pete clenched his fists at his sides and turned to storm out of the office. When he was gone, Reese turned to me, his lips quirked up at the corners.

  "Good job, Sinclair." He ruffled my hair. "I've been telling Ame and Kat for months that we should get rid of that guy. He's such a dick."

  I gave him a shy look. "So you don't think they'll be mad at me for telling him to get lost?"

  "Nah." He gave me a toothy grin. "I'd say it was the good business decision."

  "Thanks." I beamed at him.

  Reese picked up the cases of beer and the grocery bag and started for the door. "Of course," he added, pausing in the threshold, "now we've got four hours to find a replacement bartender for tonight." He arched a brow and lifted the hand toting the grocery bag to point his index finger at me. "You did the firing, so you can do the hiring. Better start looking."

  * * *

  "Sweet!" I hung up the phone and pumped my fist in the air. It had only taken me an hour before I had found not one, but two potential replacements for Pete. After a couple of phone calls I'd reached Emily Almond, Amelia and Kat's buddy that owned the Beat Barn.

  "Oh, poor Ame!" Emily had exclaimed when I told her about the diving board accident the night before. "She's got the worst luck!"

  "No kidding," I said. "Reese and I are running the show here tonight while she recuperates. Kat's keeping her company so they can knock out some paperwork." My tone turned sheepish. "So, if you wouldn't mind not saying anything to them about this for now, I'd really appreciate it. Ame's got enough on her plate—I'd hate to worry her over nothing. We've totally got a handle on things here."

  Emily took the hint. "Your secret is safe with me," she said. "And I'm happy to help out—I'll send over two bartenders. That way you definitely won't be short-handed, and Charlotte and Juan will both be happy to get the tips." She sighed. "I decided to close the venue tonight while we look into our recent break-in."

  "I heard about that," I said. "Sorry, Emily. Are there any leads yet on who could've robbed you guys?"

  "No clue." Emily suddenly sounded tired. "There was no sign of a break-in, and I was even here when it happened. While I was backstage during DJ DirtyBeatz's set, someone broke into the green room and took his spare turntable. The guy working security said he didn't see anything…" her voice trailed off. "The back door was locked, and nobody saw any equipment being moved out through the front of the building. I'm baffled."

  "Wow," I said. "That's so weird."

  "Right? DJ DirtyBeatz is livid! He said if we don't recover his turntable he'll sue for damages. And the exact same thing happened at Soul Hut last night. Someone swiped Buster Jones's tenor saxophone." She clucked her tongue. "It seems like there might be a serial thief hitting venues across the city. Keep an eye out over there, Bronwyn. Castle Rock could be next."

  Not on my watch, I thought as I hung up the phone.

  * * *

  Emily's bartenders arrived at just after five in the afternoon. Juan Ramirez was a stocky Hispanic man in his late twenties, with thick black hair and piercing dark eyes. Juan greeted Reese and me with a warm smile. "Thanks for letting us pick up the extra shift," he said, shaking each of our hands. "With the Beat Barn closed tonight, I wasn't sure I was going to make rent this month."

  "Glad we could help." My smile was wide. He was Mario Lopez-level hot, and with good manners to boot. A definite trade-up from Pete the Sexist Pig. "We're glad to have you here."

  "Yeah, this is so clutch! I've always wanted to work at a rock venue," said the young woman standing next to Juan. "I'm Charlotte," she added. "Charlotte Kelly."

  "It's great to meet you, Charlotte." Reese stepped forward to shake the curvy girl's outstretched hand. I didn't like how long his fingers lingered over hers, or the way his pupils dilated at the sight of her. He was looking at her the same way he looked at that ice-cold beer the day before.

  "You're Pete's cousin, right?" I said loudly to break up their little love fest. I looked Charlotte up and down. "You don't look anything like him." She was pretty in a Goth Princess sort of way. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed a dark purple. Beneath her low-cut black tank top, every visible inch of her arms and neck was covered with tattoos. She also had a bar piercing straight through her nose.

  "Yeah, that dill hole's my cousin." Charlotte made a disgusted face, and then returned my appraising look. "You must be Bronwyn," she said, her amber eyes crinkling at the corners. "Pete texted me earlier. He said you fired him." She gave me an approving nod. "Ballsy. Pete isn't used to not getting his way."

  I gave her a smug smile. "Yeah, well, I didn't like his attitude."

  "You and me both," she agreed. "I can't stand the guy. But you can't choose your family, right?"

  "Yeah," Reese said in a dopey voice. His eyes were still fixed on that tatted, purple-haired succubus, and he was practically drooling. I bit back a groan. At least she's only here for tonight, I thought.

  "All right." I shoved my feelings about Reese's crush on Charlotte into the Things to Obsess Over Later file of my brain and turned to address the two new bartenders. "Let's put you two to work."

  * * *

  A line started forming in front of Castle Rock around seven-thirty, just after sunset. Derek arrived a half-hour before that to man the entrance to the courtyard behind the venue, where tonight's show would be taking place. Reese put Jody in charge of showing Juan and Charlotte where to find liquor bottles and mixers, and the three of them worked together to stock three makeshift bars along the back fence of the courtyard. I ordered catering from a local barbecue joint to feed the band and delivered it to the downstairs green room around seven forty-five.

  The members of Dusty Shore and The Landstanders had pushed all of the furniture into the center of the green room and were gathered together in a circle, having a round of Puff, Puff, Pass with a small joint. I wrinkled my nose at the smell and set the Styrofoam cartons of food on the table in front of them, then turned to hurry out of the room. When your father is a hard-tempered police sergeant with a nose like a bloodhound, you don't risk hanging around weed smokers—not even for a quick contact high.

  "Food!" cried a man with a scraggly beard and long, black hair. The musicians eagerly tore open the containers and began to chow down on pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, and fried okra. I handed Dusty a separate container with his special-ordered tofu barbecue and bean sprouts.

  "Hey, Pink," Dusty called after me. I paused in the doorway and met his red-eyed gaze. "I have an important job for you," the rocker said. He set his food down and then pulled his blond hair back into a ponytail. Rising from the couch, Dusty crossed the room and grabbed a carton of the coconut water that Reese had brought him. He took a swig and then gestured to the far wall of the room. Propped up in the corner was a green Fender Stratocaster electric guitar with a large palm tree sticker on it.

  Dusty picked up the guitar and brought it over to me. "We're only doing acoustic tunes for tonight's show, but I want to bring this baby out for our encore so we can turn up the wattage when we play 'Island Love,'" he said, holding up the guitar. "I need you to bring this out right before the encore. I don't like having her backstage during our acoustic sets—I can't concentrate on a mellow track when my lil' electric baby here is callin' out to me from the wings. Know what I'm sayin'?"

  I just nodded. In the time since I first started working at Castle Rock, I'd witnessed musicians do and say all kinds of wacky things backstage. This was par for the eccentric rocker course.

  Dusty clapped a hand across my back. "Thanks, little babe," he said. It sounded a bit patronizing, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt since he was stoned. I found it hard to believe Jimmy Buffet, Jr. here had pitched such a fit
with Reese earlier over the coconut water. He seemed so mellow now. Then again, that could also be an effect of his current state.

  I took the Fender Strat as Dusty placed it in my hands. It felt cool, smooth, and a little heavy. It always amazed me that an inanimate object made from plastic, wood, and metal could create such beautiful sounds. I carefully carried the guitar out of the green room as Dusty rejoined his band's smoking circle on the couches. I leaned against the wall out in the hallway, staring down at the instrument in my hands. What was I supposed to do with it until The Landstanders' encore?

  Charlotte, Juan, and Jody passed me in the hall, their arms loaded down with bottles of tequila and sweet and sour mix. Charlotte's amber eyes lit up at the sight of the guitar. "Ooh, is that a Fender Strat?" she gushed, bending down to take a closer look.

  I promptly pulled the guitar out of her reach. "It's Dusty's," I said. "He wants me to hold onto it for him until the encore."

  "That's awesome." Her gaze traveled down the length of me. "You know, you look like a natural born rock star with that thing in your hands," she said, quirking her lip. "Like Gwen Stefani with pink hair."

  "Thanks." My brows lifted in surprise. I couldn't tell if she was mocking me or if it was a genuine compliment.

  "You should put that somewhere safe," Jody said. "I mean, if you're gonna hang outside during their set, you probably shouldn't carry it around with you."

  "True." I looked around for a place to deposit the Fender for safekeeping. My gaze settled on Amelia's office. That seemed like as good a place as any. "I'll meet you guys outside," I said, and I made my way down the hall to Ame's doorway. I laid the guitar across the leather couch on the far wall of the office.

  The desk phone rang just as I was about to leave the room. With a sigh, I plopped down in Amelia's chair and answered it. "Castle Rock, Bronwyn speaking," I said wearily.

  "Bron? It's Ame," my boss said on the other end of the line. "Just thought I'd check in. How are things going up there?"

  "Oh! Hey, Ame!" I forced a brighter tone. "Everything's great. I was just about to lock up so we can start the show out back." I'd fill her in on the whole Pete fiasco tomorrow, when things had hopefully cooled down. "How's your ankle?"

  "Still sprained." Ame gave a little sigh. "But I've got to admit, it's nice to have a Saturday night off for once, even if I am stuck on the couch."

  "Amen," Kat called loudly from somewhere in the background. "Pass the margaritas!"

  "Y'all deserve it," I said. "Take it easy and enjoy yourselves. There's nothing to worry about. Reese and I have everything under control here."

  "That's good." I could hear the smile in Amelia's voice. "Not that I'm surprised. I knew you could handle it. I'm proud of you, Bronwyn."

  "Me too!" Kat yelled. "Cheers!" I heard the sound of glasses clinking.

  We said our good-byes, and I hung up the phone feeling a lot better. Knowing that Kat and Ame were in my corner gave me an extra shot of confidence with a self-esteem chaser. So what if I'd had to fire our most arrogant bartender and replace him with a couple of complete strangers? Everything had worked out for the better, even if Charlotte the vampire hooker was macking on my should-be boyfriend. I hauled myself out of Ame's desk chair and made my way back into the hall.

  The band and their manager, a plump, bald man named Arnie Mack, were walking out of the green room. "Hey, Miss Sinclair," Arnie called when he spotted me. I hurried down the hall to catch up to them. The chubby man's gray eyes crinkled, and his lips parted to show his yellow teeth. "Look," he said, in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but one of the guys had a bad high. Jeff ralphed up his barbecue sandwich in the corner of the room."

  "Sorry," Jeff, a stocky red-haired man, said. Then he let loose a belch so loud that it echoed down the hallway. I grimaced.

  "Anyway," Arnie continued. "Could you be a doll and clean it up for us?" He gave me a patronizing smile. "Thanks, love," he said without waiting for a response.

  I glared after the band and their tubby manager as they sauntered out through the back door, heading toward the stage.

  "Awesome," I said sarcastically to the empty hallway. "Just what I needed to make this the best freakin' day ever." I heaved a sigh. Was this the kind of stuff that Ame and Kat had to deal with behind the scenes? Maybe their job is harder than I thought. Muttering a few curses under my breath, I grabbed a mop, bucket, and some gloves from the downstairs storage closet and stalked back into the green room, assuring myself that after this little incident, there was no way my day could get any worse.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Yuck!" I heaved the trash bag of food containers and Jeff the Pukewad's regurgitated dinner into the Dumpster behind Castle Rock. Stripping the gloves off my hands, I tossed them in after it. Thanks to my last-minute janitorial duties, I'd missed the beginning of The Landstanders' set. An acoustic melody punctuated by steel drums reached my ears, making me wish I were lying in the sand at Panama City Beach. What I wouldn't give, I thought, closing my eyes. I pictured my toes buried in white sand, with Reese lying on a towel next to me, tanning his muscled chest. Mmm…I inhaled, thinking of the salty ocean air. Instead, I gagged as I sucked in a whiff of something sour in the Dumpster. Ew! With a sigh, I turned to head back inside and return the mop to the storage closet.

  Movement on the side street next to Castle Rock caught my eye. I squinted through the dark at a white van that was rolling to a stop just beside the venue. We aren't expecting any more deliveries today, are we? I thought with a frown. There was no logo or anything on the side of the van to identify the company the driver was working for.

  I waited for a few moments, watching the mystery van. A couple of minutes passed, but no one emerged from the vehicle. I shrugged and walked toward the back door. It was possible that whoever was driving the van had just pulled over so they could hear a little bit of Dusty Shore and The Landstanders' set. Nothing wrong with trying to catch a little bit of the show from the street—I used to park outside venues myself when I was in high school and couldn't afford to buy tickets to every show I wanted to see. I returned the mop to the storage closet and then exited again, locking the back door behind me before joining the throng of people out in Castle Rock's courtyard.

  The back lawn of Castle Rock was closed off from the street by a gray stone wall that matched the exterior of the venue. Along the far end of the wall, several food vendors were set up selling pizza and burgers. On the other side of the field, Jody, Juan, and Charlotte were manning the three yellow pop-up tents with BAR printed across the awning in large black letters. Dusty Shore and The Landstanders were jamming on a large wooden platform that served as our new outdoor stage. It was positioned so that the large, gothic castle-inspired venue loomed behind the band as they played. The whole scene reminded me of a rock n' roll-themed Renaissance fair.

  "We're kicking this summer off right, Atlanta!" Dusty yelled into the microphone. He waved one hand at the crowd while running the other through his shoulder-length blond hair. Dusty wore a tight white T-shirt with a guitar made from an avocado on it that said Guac On! The crowd erupted into more applause as the band launched into their next song with Dusty swaying back and forth as the drummer beat out a melody on the steel drum.

  Several dozen people were gathered around the edge of the stage, dancing close together. Hundreds of others were scattered across the lawn, some standing and swaying to the music and others lounging on tapestries and blankets. As I waded across the lawn, I spotted Charlotte behind one of the outdoor bars, moving her hips to the music. She shook her head back and forth, sending strands of long purple hair dancing around her. I scowled when Reese moved behind the bar and began dancing with her. That should be me, I thought bitterly. Maybe I was holding myself back. What's she got that I don't have? I watched Reese and Charlotte "cheers" each other with a couple of tequila shots. Oh, that's right—liquid courage.

  Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and plastered a confide
nt smile on my face before edging my way behind the bar, which was not quite wide enough to fit all three of us. "Hey guys." I squeezed between Charlotte and Reese and bent to grab a Diet Coke from below the counter.

  "Where've you been?" Reese asked, giving me a quizzical look. "You hate missing the beginning of a band's set."

  I grimaced. "One of the Landstanders got a little seasick in the green room. I was on cleanup duty."

  Reese poked out his bottom lip in a mock pout. "Poor Bron," he teased, ruffling my hair. "You missed an awesome opener. They did a steel drum cover of Radiohead's 'Weird Fishes.'"

  "Aw, man," I groaned. I loved Radiohead.

  "Charlotte was just telling me that she used to date Dusty's ex-tour manager," Reese said.

  "Yep," Charlotte grinned at me. "Went on tour with The Landstanders last summer. It was a wild time, man."

  "That's cool." I turned to Reese and rested my hand on his arm, pulling his attention away from Charlotte. "Hey, I know today got off to a rough start, but I think we did a really awesome job. We make a great team." I beamed at him.

  "Yeah, you guys are quite the pair," Charlotte said, handing me a cup of ice and a straw for my soda.

  "Thanks." I took a sip of my drink, feeling a rush of pleasure at her compliment. I glanced at Reese and was psyched to find him smiling back at me.

  Charlotte dipped down below the bar counter and came back up a moment later, frowning. "Hey, do we have more limes inside?" she asked. "I can't mix a decent gin drink without 'em."

  "Yeah, I think so," I said absently. My gaze was focused on Reese.

  Charlotte noticed my attention was elsewhere. "I can go get them, if you and Reese want to hang out back here," she suggested. "As long as you don't mind pouring drinks if anyone walks up."

  "Sure." I pulled the keys out of my pocket and handed them over. "There are some in the bar cooler downstairs in the Dungeon showroom. Just make sure you lock the back door when you come back outside."