Chapter 5 Gianna #2
Walking around Booker Bay sometimes causes old wounds to slowly rip open and tear up the centre of my chest. Lucifer’s Dream is one of those times, as much as I love the carnival.
It’s been held in Coachman’s Park every year since my Pa’s time.
It’s what brings in the tourists every year, and then they stay for what they think is a sleepy little coastal life filled with acai bowls and Pilates classes.
But the moon knows all of Booker Bay’s secrets.
It’s humid today, the smell of damp earth and saltwater mixing in the air and sticking to my skin. An unusual undertone of sulphur makes my nose scrunch.
As soon as Chuckie sees the open green of the park, he runs for it, but he slips and slides along the ground. I rush over to him, but have to catch myself before I slip on my ass too. When he recovers, he’s streaked in mud, shaking it off in flying chunks.
I don’t expect to see any tents, rides or caravans set up yet, but I also don’t expect to see the mayor with a sour look on his face and his arms folded across his chest. He hasn’t seen us yet, and I think I can avoid the interaction, but then Chuckie gallops toward him, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
‘Oh, Mayor Arblaster!’ I warn. ‘He’s just rolled in the mud.’
He ignores me, squatting to give Chuckie a rough pat before glancing over his shoulder at me.
When I make it to his side, he stands. ‘It’s just a little dirt, Gia,’ he huffs.
‘Like I’ve been trying to tell these guys in the hi-vis.
’ He juts his chin at the three council workers with clipboards in their hands.
‘Everything okay?’
He grunts. ‘They’re saying the groundwater is shallow, so when it rains like it has been, the park turns into a giant pool.’
‘Think it’ll dry up in time for the carnival?’
He sucks his teeth with a shake of his head. ‘It might be canned unless we find some other space for it.’
I notice the reflections of the dark clouds rolling in scattered in the puddles across the grass. ‘We can’t have it in the town centre?’
‘I won’t get road closures approved in time, and it’d be a hazard to pedestrians otherwise.’
‘What about the lighthouse grounds, or maybe even the pier?’ I point to the long wooden structure that stretches out into the lake. Sails stand out in the distance, stark white against the murky water that’s usually ultramarine.
The mayor shakes his head. ‘Same issue. Needs a hazard inspection first.’
‘There’s nowhere else?’
‘Nowhere that won’t have the same issue.
We need blocked-off land.’ He adjusts his suspenders, letting them snap against his round stomach.
‘I guess living near the water is both a blessing and a curse. I’d better get to the office, I need to make a few calls.
The carnival needs to happen.’ He turns away but glances back.
‘Stay out of trouble, Gia. No more of this street-racing nonsense, you hear?’
‘Street racing?’ I frown. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’
The mayor presses his lips in a thin line, not holding back the show of his disbelief. ‘I’m trying to keep this town’s reputation clean,’ he warns before sloshing away.
Damn. This might be the first time in years that Booker Bay won’t hold the carnival. Monique is going to blow a gasket.
‘Look at you.’ I glance down at Chuckie, who pants happily before rolling in another puddle. ‘You know there’s no warm shower at the garage. It’s gonna be the hose for you.’
Chuckie trots along at my side. It’s just us but I feel like I’m being watched. I look over my shoulders, paranoia getting the best of me. Apart from the council workers, there’s no one else.
We make it back to the fountain in town before a snapping sound makes my heart jump.
‘I’ve got mace!’ I scream, whipping around. I don’t actually have anything aside from poop bags, which aren’t going to do me any good, but I hold my stance, poop bags drawn.
Despite the cold, a rush of heat floods into my cheeks when I see Ryker, and I hate how my heart misfires.
‘Do you really think that’s going to save you, Little Suspect?’ He gestures toward my pretend mace can.
The minuscule amount of breath I manage to suck in gets caught in my throat at the sound of his voice – a purr that sends shivers right through me.
‘What do you want, Ryker?’
I thought I’d never see him again. In the daylight, I take in how his eyes still glow, but there’s a deadly edge haunting them that wasn’t there before.
‘Look at this guy.’ He ignores me and leans down to scratch Chuckie’s ears. ‘It’s been three years and he still remembers me.’
‘Four,’ I clip.
He tilts his head, giving Chuckie one last scratch before he stands, eyes on me.
There are a few pedestrians laughing around us with take-out coffees in their hands.
Couples sit side-by-side on the fountain’s edge, lost in puppy love.
Booker Bay is good for that, setting all the perfect scenes for ice-cream-filled first dates or a proposal that promises a safe, steady, slow, forever kind of love.
Ryker acts like none of it exists, like the only thing he sees is me.
He steps closer until only a few inches separate us.
‘Jesus Christ, Ryker.’ My hand hovers over his chest, so close I feel the heat radiating from him. ‘Personal space.’
‘If you don’t like it, push me away,’ he dares.
I could. I should push him away. So why don’t I?