by Sam Cameron
Through her binoculars, Robin scanned the sailboats. Big and small, new and old, most of them flying flags with skulls and crossbones. Aboard the Daisy Deedle, Cayleigh must have recognized the danger. She veered across the waves toward the old lighthouse on Sunrise Key. The island was a thin strip of land, the lighthouse a slim tower of old limestone.
“It’s just like in the Rhoda Dakota movie,” Molly said.
Denny said, “The bank robbers hid out at the old lighthouse.”
Steven rolled his eyes. “You watched too much of that show.”
The Daisy Deedle swerved across the water. Robin focused on the bridge where Juliet and Cayleigh struggled for control of the steering wheel. The boat cut in front of a small sailboat, nearly toppling it into the sea. Robin could see the sailboat crew yelling and waving fists at the Daisy Deedle. Then the wind shifted, sending a large sloop off course. The Daisy Deedle slammed into her bow with a wrenching of wood, steel, and canvas. Several of the people from the sloop were thrown into the water. The Daisy Deedle immediately listed to starboard and began to sink.
“Oh, crap,” Denny said and radioed the Coast Guard.
“Help me with the life preservers,” Steven said to Molly and Robin.
They raced down to the benches at the stern where the orange vests and floatation rings were stowed. Denny maneuvered carefully around the wreck and cut the engines. Other rescue boats were already converging. Molly and Denny began helping the stricken crew out of the water. Steven and Robin jumped into the waves and swam to the Daisy Deedle, which was half submerged and sinking fast.
The water was warm and the waves choppy. Robin wasn’t as strong or fast a swimmer as Steven, but she could hold her own in the water. They circled around the stern and saw Cayleigh trying to swim toward shore.
“Get her!” Robin told Steven.
He went after her. Juliet was clinging to the hull, spitting out water and looking more pissed off than hurt or scared. Robin stopped a few feet away and treaded water.
“Are you okay?” Robin asked.
“I am extremely pissed off,” Juliet announced. “Do you know she’s crazy? Certifiably psychopathic nuts, and I should know.”
Robin treaded water. “Can you swim? My friends have a boat—”
“I’m waiting for the U.S. Navy,” Juliet said fiercely. “And the FBI. Why aren’t they doing their jobs?”
She didn’t ask about Alex Austin. She didn’t ask about the sailors who’d possibly been injured or killed in the crash. Instead, Juliet continued to complain bitterly about being kidnapped, being held by a crazy production assistant, and now being dumped into the ocean like garbage.
Denny brought the Sleuth-hound around. Robin climbed up the rope ladder and took a towel from Molly.
“Everybody’s accounted for and nobody’s hurt,” Molly said. “What about Juliet?”
Robin looked down at the water and the actress. “I think she’s beyond our help.”
Chapter Thirty-one
When they reached the Fisher Key marina, it was full of pirates, cops, sailors, reporters, and kids. Children in miniature pirate costumes raced around while the judges announced a delay to the nine a.m. dinghy race. Cayleigh was sitting in the back of a cruiser, sopping wet. Steven was talking to a girl in a wench costume.
“I see you’ve all had an eventful morning,” Sheriff Anderson said to Denny, Robin, and Molly.
Juliet stomped down to the pier. “Where is Cayleigh? By the time I get through with her, they’re going to have to scrape her up in little pieces.”
Robin was wet, hungry, and desperate for some dry clothes. She was hoping to go home, shower, change, and take Molly out for a big breakfast, in that order.
Sheriff Anderson dashed her dreams. “I’ll need everyone to come to the station to make a statement. Away from these reporters. “
Robin made the shortest possible stop at home to shower and throw on dry shorts and a T-shirt. She was surprised to find Liam and Austin already at the sheriff’s station, sitting in a conference room with the shades pulled down. Someone had brought them big cups of coffee and some doughnuts. Austin still looked haggard, but he’d refused to go to the hospital. Robin empathized. Her elbow was beginning to bruise spectacularly, but there was no need for an emergency room visit.
“Lara Croft,” Austin said when he saw her. “Thank you to you and your friends for the rescue.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, enviously eying their coffee and doughnuts. “What happened to you on Friday night?”
“It’s stupid,” he replied. “I was in the trailer and all of a sudden couldn’t keep my eyes open. They’d put something in that gift basket, I think. In the muffins. It was meant for Liam, no doubt. Knocked me right out. I woke up to those two crazy people with their crazy vendetta, and Juliet being absolutely no help whatsoever.”
Liam rubbed his arm but said nothing.
Robin asked, “Vendetta? What vendetta?”
“She was on an episode of Rhoda Dakota a million years ago,” Austin said. “He’s her brother.”
Molly, who was sitting next to Robin, asked, “Brother? Really?”
Robin said, “I never saw that one coming.”
Over the next few hours, as sheriff’s deputies rotated in and out and more details unfolded, Robin learned that Cayleigh was the mastermind. She and Jake both had been child actors in Hollywood. Like thousands of other hopefuls, they’d moved there with their parents and stars in their eyes. Hundreds of hours of acting lessons and casting calls had led to a few bit parts for Cayleigh and a few magazine ads for Jake. Then everything dried up.
“After their parents died in a car wreck on the Ventura freeway, they ended up in foster care,” Sheriff Anderson said. “Things only got worse from there on, and Cayleigh somehow fixated on Juliet and Liam as being the cause of it all. They had the success and glory that she thought should be hers and Jake’s”
“What did he think?” Robin asked.
“He just followed her orders most of the time,” Sheriff Anderson said. “She got him the job on the set, and he got Juliet to like him. Seems like he doesn’t have any trouble getting girls to fall for him. The first kidnapping attempt went sideways when Juliet thought it was a prank and he chickened out.”
Liam, who’d been watching Robin eye the doughnuts, pushed the plate her way. She shamelessly grabbed one and gave the other to Molly, who took it gratefully.
“Why didn’t Cayleigh call in a ransom demand?” Robin asked.
“Jake wanted to,” Austin said. “Cayleigh wanted to drag it out longer. She was angry that only half of her plan was complete. She wanted Liam, not a poor substitute.”
Liam said, tersely, “You’re not a substitute for anything.”
Eventually, Liam’s trailer arrived from Key West, pulling into the parking lot like an enormous silver whale. The paparazzi descended from Miami in cars and vans. Sheriff Anderson arranged for Liam and Austin to go out the back door, jackets draped over their heads to thwart photographers. When that was complete, he told Robin that Cayleigh was asking for her.
“For me?” Robin asked. “Why?”
“You might as well go find out,” he said. “She’s already waived her right to a lawyer.”
Cayleigh was being held in an interrogation room with a thick door and ugly fluorescent lights. A one-way mirror and surveillance camera decorated one wall. Although handcuffed and bedraggled from swimming in the ocean, Cayleigh lifted her chin haughtily when Robin came in.
“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Cayleigh said, “but I suppose you’ll do. I want you to take over Monica Mell’s website.”
Robin stopped short. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re obsessed with Juliet. Better you than someone who doesn’t care at all, or leaving the site to go dark.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Robin said.
“You trespassed on a movie set just to get a glimpse of her,” Cayleigh said scornfully. “You
told people you were a detective so you could hang around her sister, who you tried to seduce—”
Robin held up a hand. “I didn’t seduce anyone!”
“—and you got Liam to give you a job on the set,” Cayleigh finished. “You’ve probably got her picture on your bedroom walls, on your phone, on your computer. Sounds pretty obsessed to me.”
Robin didn’t like thinking about who was watching through the mirror. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Of course you don’t,” Cayleigh said. “If I didn’t understand, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You’re here because you let your fantasies of revenge overrun your common sense,” Robin replied tersely. “You kidnapped two people, fired a gun at us, crashed into a sailboat, nearly drowned people, and for what?”
Cayleigh cocked her head in disappointment.
“For Juliet, of course,” Cayleigh said. “Who else?”
“She doesn’t want it.”
“Of course she does. She craves attention,” Cayleigh said. “And you and I are just the kind of girls to give it to her. You and me. Fangirls forever.”
Robin headed for the door. “Forever isn’t as long as you think it is.”
Out in the hall, away from Cayleigh’s intense conviction, Robin rested against the wall and tried to clear her head. She was dimly aware of Molly’s footsteps beside her.
“You okay?” Molly asked, stroking Robin’s arm.
“Yeah.” Robin took a deep breath. “She’s kind of crazy.”
“And you’re a hero,” Molly said. “Liam, Alex, and Juliet all owe you a lot. If you hadn’t gotten involved and stayed involved, who knows what could have happened?”
Robin smiled. “I guess.”
“You know what would make you even more heroic right now?” Molly asked.
“No. What?”
“Food. I’m starving.”
Robin kissed her and took her to brunch.
Chapter Thirty-two
Wide-eyed and grinning, Ginny did a circle in the middle of Liam’s trailer and said, “This is the nicest place ever. You’ve got TVs everywhere!”
Sean said, “And a satellite on the roof.”
“And every game on earth,” Steven said from one of the sofas, where he, Liam, and Sean were playing one of those first-person shooter games that Robin thought were morally reprehensible.
Liam said, “It’s my home away from home.”
Robin couldn’t help herself. “But it’s an environmental disaster.”
“Would it help if I said it runs on biodegradable fuel and cooking oil recycled from restaurants?” Liam asked.
“It does not,” Austin said from the kitchen table. “But we’re working on it.”
The trailer was parked in the Anderson’s side yard, where a No Trespassing sign and a private security firm from Miami were helping keep the paparazzi away. This was Ginny’s first visit to the opulent mansion on wheels, but Robin’s last. Tomorrow, Liam and Austin were heading back to sunny, smoggy Los Angeles, leaving the Florida Keys far behind.
Several pizza boxes were set out on the kitchen counter. Robin and Ginny both grabbed slices and sat to eat with Austin, who politely put aside his computer tablet.
“You were in a band,” Ginny said frankly, “but I’ve never heard of it.”
Austin laughed. “Just as well, then. My days of glory are far behind me.”
“Why?” Ginny asked.
He slid the tablet over. “Because I found something better to do.”
Robin scanned the screen. “This is a foundation that helps children with malaria.”
“One of the leading causes of death for kids all over the world,” Austin said. “My band did a tour in Africa once, and I realized there were more important things for me than music.”
Liam dropped his hand on Austin’s shoulder and left it there. “I told him he didn’t have to give up all music.”
“One day, maybe, I’ll go back,” Austin said lightly. His gaze locked on Liam. “I have other priorities right now.”
Liam ruffled his hair. “You sure do.”
During the last week, Robin had seen Liam be affectionate to Austin in front of Sean, Steven, Denny, and Molly. They hadn’t gone out in public, however. She had no idea if he was going to go public and risk his career, or continue to hide it for the sake of Hollywood limelights. Part of her wanted to ask, and part of her grudgingly admitted that it was his choice.
Denny knocked on the ajar door and came in with Brian behind him. Denny was leaving for the Coast Guard Academy in the morning. It was his last night on Fisher Key as a civilian, and the low-key party was partly in his honor. Robin thought it was nice for Liam and Austin to have offered it.
“You look sunburned in all the worst places,” Steven called out to his twin. “Run out of sunscreen?”
“Shut up,” Denny said good-naturedly. He and Brian had been at sea all day on the Sleuth-hound, doing things Robin could only guess at.
Brian said calmly, “We had lotion in all the right places, thanks.”
“Hey!” Robin covered Ginny’s ears. “Little ears here.”
Ginny squirmed away. “I’m not so little. I kissed a boy.”
Robin looked accusingly at Steven, who threw up his hands and said, “I was busy helping you, remember?”
Denny reached for some pizza. “Robin, there’s a friend of yours outside. Says she’s a police officer from Key West. The guard won’t let her through.”
Robin went outside into the warm air of sunset. Michelle Boyle and her girlfriend Chili were sitting in a white Jeep filled with dirty camping gear. They both looked sweaty and tanned and ridiculously in love. The security guard nodded at Robin as she passed his car.
“If it isn’t our little crime fighter,” Chili said from behind the steering wheel.
“Does this mean you forgive me?” Robin asked Boyle hopefully.
“It means I’m glad everything worked out and no one got killed,” Boyle said. “But no more solving kidnappings in my town ever, got it? I’m still trying to explain things to my boss.”
Robin said, “Promise. I’ll be in Miami, anyway. I hear they have some crime there I can help out with.”
“I like this girl,” Chili said.
Boyle said, “You can’t have her.”
“Don’t need her when I’ve got you,” Chili replied, and leaned over to give Boyle a big kiss.
Robin wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
“You should come in and have some pizza,” she said. She didn’t think Liam would mind.
Boyle said, “We couldn’t—” but Chili was already climbing out of the Jeep.
“I’m starving,” she said. “And I want to see what’s inside this big old trailer.”
Robin’s phone rang with Molly’s name on it. She walked down to the pier as she answered. The sunset in the west was casting gold and pink across the sky, and in the east, all was deepening blue.
“I was thinking of you,” Molly said happily. “Were you thinking of me?”
“All the time,” Robin replied. She sat on the edge of the pier. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“You want me to come down?” Molly asked.
Robin pictured herself on the highway to Miami, the flat ocean on either side. The whole wide world, waiting for her to fix it. Or at least offer a strongly worded opinion.
“I’ll come see you,” she said and dipped her bare feet into the warm ocean.
Excerpt from The Totally Trans Life of Toni T
For fifteen years, I’ve been living here in Ithaca with my mom, my grandpa, two dogs, five cats, thousands of creepy-crawly bugs, and layers of dust so thick they’re like those Antarctic ice cores that scientists extract to study the history of climate change. If you’re not careful, the towering piles of newspapers in our living room might fall over and suffocate you with news from the Reagan presidency. We could teach the entire Third World to read with the mildewed encyclop
edias that are crushing the shelves of multiple bookcases. There used to be a path from my bedroom to the kitchen, but it closed up under the weight of boxes, bags, bottles, cartons, clothing, junk mail, radios, sewing machines, sewing supplies, shoes, sneakers, suitcases, and broken television sets. To get to my mom’s room, I have to squeeze out through the garage and circle around the house. If she wants me to come over, she calls my cell phone.
“Tony,” she’ll say, “I’m lonely. Come visit. And check the mailbox on the way.”
My bedroom is no escape. Mom and Grandpa have been cramming things in there since I was in diapers. Because there’s no room in the closets or drawers, I pile all my clothes on the end of the bed. It’s not like I wear anything other than jeans and T-shirts and hoodies anyway, and they’re diligently clean because I take them to the Laundromat myself and use double doses of detergent. I have a rash on my legs from too much soap.
Under the bed is where I stow my other clothes: white lace underpants, a beige push-up bra, two wool skirts, a green sundress with yellow trim on the hem, and a pink silk blouse with French cuffs. Those belong to Toni, the girl I’m going to be when I graduate high school and move to Paris. Toni will glide effortlessly along the Left Bank in fabulous dresses. She’ll sip white wine in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. Women and men across the city will admire her wit, charm, and beauty, and invite her to exclusive dinner parties so they can admire her. I haven’t decided if she’ll be an artist or a psychiatrist. Maybe both.
My best friend Cleo says escape fantasies are common for kids trapped like we are, in giant spider webs spun by our families. I passionately hate spiders and can’t stand anyone talking about them, but Cleo always shares her Xanax with me and so I forgive her.
This morning I took an extra pill, because it’s a big day around here. Grandpa’s supposed to come home from rehab. He’s been there since Christmas because he fell down in the Wegmans parking lot and broke his hip. You don’t need to be in the Honor Society (which I’m not, but who cares) to figure out there’s no way a man in a wheelchair can roll around in this death trap. I’m dreading the moment the van driver tries to open the front door to a slow-moving avalanche of metal, plastic, paper, and wood.