“Well, really, anyone that may be related to Donald Gaskins.”
The woman opens her mouth once but instead of speaking slams the door in our face.
“So, I guess we should go…” I start, but my mother is already knocking on the door. “I don’t think she wants to talk to us.”
Despite my argument, she knocks again. “Of course she doesn’t. She’s possibly related to the worst serial killer this part of South Carolina has ever seen. No one wants to talk about that.”
“Umm…then why are we here if she won’t talk to us?”
“Just because she won’t talk to us today, doesn’t mean she won’t when she’s ready.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a business card. She knocks again and then says in a loud voice, “I’m leaving my card on the door. It has my name and number, call me if you want to talk.” She tucks the card into the edge of the screen door. “Okay, let’s go.”
Like a child, I follow her back to the car with a sense of awe. We pass an older man, his face lined with age, and she smiles and says hello. Just like that. Like there is no difference between her and everyone else on this broken-down street. She has so much determination and I realize that this is a woman who knows how to get what she wants. A woman that doesn’t make stupid decisions or runs from them. She unlocks the car and when I slide in my seat I wonder, not for the first time, if I can ever be like her.
* * *
I wake the next morning to a loud banging on my metal camper door.
“I’m coming,” I shout, stumbling across the trailer to the door a couple of feet away. I peer through my swollen eyes. “Justin?”
“Morning,” he says through a wide grin. He’s wearing a T-shirt that says Ocean Marina across the chest, and a hat that says the same thing, cargo shorts and sneakers. He looks way too awake for this time of morning.
I start to let the door slam shut on its tight coiled springs but he stops it from closing with a quick hand. “Thought you might want to have some fun today?”
I pick up my phone from the table behind me and check it. “It’s 7 a.m.” I ignore the two messages from Mason overnight on the screen.
“I’ve been up for an hour,” he says and I notice his wet hair. “The waves were great this morning.” I feel his eyes traveling over my pajamas and I shift under his scrutiny.
“You’re not going to take me fishing or something.”
“What’s wrong with fishing?” he asks.
I shoot him a warning glare. “I’m going back to bed.”
“No fishing. Trust me.” His voice softens. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
I think about Maggie’s warning. I think about those messages on the phone and how I’ll spend the day trying to ignore them. Just because I go with Justin doesn’t mean anything except that I’ll have things to think about other than ex-boyfriends and bad decisions.
“Ugh, let me get dressed.” He starts to step inside, but I hold my hand up. “While you wait. Outside.”
He flashes that grin and laughs. “Thought I’d give it a shot.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, slamming the door in his face.
* * *
It’s a good thing I didn’t want this to be a date because Pete’s lanky body is sprawled in the backseat when we get to the Jeep. Justin taps his head when we walk up and he jolts awake, rubbing his eyes. He smiles when he sees me.
“Morning, Summer.”
I grunt in reply.
“I promised her coffee before she had to be civil.”
“Good call.”
There’s no Starbucks in Ocean Beach but he stops at a tiny coffee shop next to the grocery store. The boys wait for me in the Jeep as I order. The barista peers out the window, glancing between me and the Jeep outside.
“Ice coffee, please. No sugar, just cream.”