“Come on,” he says, linking his fingers with mine. “We better go out there or the guys will call me a Summer-hog and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“A summer hog?”
He stops and touches my chin. “Babe, the biggest problem you’re going to have for the next three months is keeping us away from you.”
My stomach flips when he says it—like he’s committing to a promise.
A promise I can only hope he, and the others, keep.
20
Summer
The morning after Dusty’s, I get up and change directly into my bikini. We agreed to take the early part of the day off and then head into work after lunch for the final stages of party prep. I decide to go down to the little beach by the waterway. It’s not the same as being by the ocean, more like hanging by the river or a lake, but I just want a little time to chill before the insanity of the night. My phone buzzes twice with missed calls from Shay, but I’m not into that today. I haven’t listened to any of her messages for the past few days and I know she probably wants to talk about what went down at the bar last night, and I’m not interested.
I’ve got my beach bag and chair in my hands when I see Avery walking down the path from the laundry building. My eyes dart around, looking for a place to hide.
“Summer!” he calls. Damnit. His eyes light up when I turn to face him.
“Hey Avery,” I reply, not sure why this guy is always around now. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him around the trailer park, although normally I’m faster at hiding. “What’s going on?”
He holds up a paper grocery bag with handles. “My aunt lives a few rows over. She lets me use her laundry time as long as I do hers for her.”
“Makes sense.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets—he’s wearing black jeans, despite the heat. “I thought you’d be getting ready for the party.”
“We’re going in a little later. You know how it is around here—everyone needs their beach time.”
He nods and pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. “I’m excited to finally meet your mom.”
“She’s looking forward to the party. She loves meeting fans.” I make a gesture to my beach stuff. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m going to go get a little sun on my face.”
“Sure, sure,” he says, seeming a little distracted. I’ve got no idea what’s going on with this guy but I’m not hanging around to find out. “See you later.”
I’m dozing on my chair when I hear footsteps on the sand and feel a shadow hovering over me. I shade my eyes and see Shay standing over me. I’m surprised to see her in regular athletic shorts and a tank top. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She holds something in her hand. A photograph?
“Summer, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Ah, well, it’s my morning off. Sorry. We’ve got a long night ahead.”
“I know and I’m not trying to pester you, but I’ve wanted to catch you for the last few days. I took a chance when Avery said you may be down here.”
Snitch.
“Shay, I’m kind of done with this whole interview thing. I’d really like to just let things go from here since I’m pretty sure I’ve told you everything I know about the book.”
“This isn’t about the interview,” she says, easing to a sitting position in the sand. “The beach house rental company had a postcard sent to them, addressed to me. Actually, three postcards. Each one a threat to you and your mom.”
I sit up abruptly. “What are you talking about?”
She holds up the cards. They’re touristy images—like the ones in every souvenir shop along the coast—including Books on the Beach. “They all go into some insane babbling about the Gaskins murders.”
I take the postcards from her and look at the images. They’re not the newer kind we sell at the shop but retro photos—original-looking. The paper and photography looks old-fashioned. All of the old pavilion in Myrtle Beach—the one my mother and her friends would travel down the dark, deserted road to get to at n
ight. Including the night they ran into Donald Gaskins.
I flip the card over and I read the messy, small script.