CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
She gave my arm another squeeze. “Don’t let it bug you. They’re jealous, fake bitches whose faces are going to melt off. And you’re a sexy, overall clad goddess who is banging a hot twenty-six-year-old. Count your blessings, cuz.” Then she ran off, red hair bouncing down her back.
I reached the cotton candy machine where the other parent volunteer, Ursula, was setting it up. She hadn’t manned the machine before either, so I grabbed the instruction manual and started to read through things while she finished setting it up.
Between Ursula and myself, we managed to get the machine running and were whipping up blue and pink candy floss for sugar-crazed children in no time.
“This is actually pretty fun,” Ursula said, swirling the paper cone in the big stainless vat of spinning sugar. “Kind of therapeutic.”
I nodded and made a trade with a child of cash for a cone just as a hot, tattooed principal wearing sexy Ray-Bans approached our table. “Hello, ladies. How is business?”
“Gangbusters,” Ursula said.
He sidled up beside me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“I saw you chatting with those three women earlier, then you seemed to be propelled by steam the way you took off from them. Did something happen?”
I glanced over at Ursula, then brought my voice down low. “They were just commenting about our age difference. Being mean.”
He removed his glasses and scanned the field until he found Barb, Sarah, and Sybil sitting in the shade, now with matching floppy, leather hats on, their enormous sunglasses and Stanley tumblers in their hands. “Do you want me to say something to them?”
“God, no.”
“Well, our romantic relationship is nobody’s business. I’m an adult. You’re an adult, and the kids are fine with it. It’s not like we’re moving in together and having a baby or anything. We’re going on dates and getting to know each other.” He shook his head. “Ursula?”
She lifted her dark head and smiled at him, her gauzy pink floral maxi skirt fluttering in the breeze. “Yes?”
“You know that Naomi and I are dating, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“And does that bother you? Do you think it’s weird that there is a bit of an age gap between us?”
“Flip it and reverse it and nobody would give two shits,” Ursula said quickly. “If you were the older one, there wouldn’t be anybody talking on the island. So, no. I don’t think it’s weird. If you make each other happy, then that’s all that matters.”
He turned to me. “See? Not everybody shares their opinion. People like Ursula—cool people—mind their own business and celebrate when people find love.”
I chose to ignore the “L” word, because I didn’t think he was professing his love for me. He was just saying that romance and partnership were meant to be celebrated, not condemned, as long as the parties were consenting adults.
“Are you referring to Barb and her bitch brigade?” Ursula asked. She was a woman with a very dry, monotone way of speaking, and a serious hippy vibe, but I liked her. “Because I told those cows to shut it down when I heard them going on about it earlier.”
“Thank you,” Lennox said. “We appreciate it.”
Ursula smiled and grabbed another cone from the stack to swirl around in the sugar. “I shouldn’t talk ill of cows, though,” she muttered. “They’re lovely creatures. Barb and her minions are more like meerkats. The female leaders in meerkat mobs are ruthless.”
Lennox and I both glanced at her and gave her a quick, curious look.
He smiled and turned back to me, rubbing my upper arm and giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t let it bother you and ruin the night.
” He glanced behind him at a loud whoop of joy from a kid who shot a rubber sticky hand toy high into the air, before facing me again.
“I saw your kids earlier. Austin was soaking wet from the dunk tank, and Honor had a snow cone in each hand.”
That made me grin, and the tension in my chest relaxed a bit. “Austin loves the dunk tank. I told him to bring a spare change of clothes this year. So hopefully he remembered. Honor will probably get sick from all the sugar.”
“They’re being kids. Great kids.” He squeezed my arm one more time, and I could tell it was taking a lot of effort on his part not to lean in and kiss my cheek. Then he headed off, stopping to chat with a few students who were blowing bubbles.
“He’s great,” Ursula said. “Well done.”
I snorted and shook my head at her. “Thanks, I guess.”
Before I knew it, my shift was over, and two parent volunteers who had worked the cotton candy machine before came over to relieve Ursula and me.
I was just making my way over to Gabrielle at the silent auction when Austin came running up to me, water droplets flying behind him as he ran. “Did you bring my spare clothes?” he asked, dripping wet and with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.
I gave him a perplexed look. “No. You were supposed to bring them.”
“No. I put them in a bag by the front door and told you to bring them with you.”
My brows rose at the bossy tone of my pre-teen son. “Excuse me?”
“I told you—”
“First of all, darling son of mine, you don’t tell me to do anything.
You ask. Politely. Secondly, I specifically asked you last night if you planned on getting soaked in the dunk tank today like you did last year.
You said yes. So I suggested that you pack an extra pair of shoes and clothes and bring them to school with you.
I’m trying to teach some independence and personal responsibility here. ”
He went to open his mouth, but shut it because he knew better. He knew he’d lost. He hung his chin to his chest and his shoulders rounded. “Okay. I’m sorry. I remember that conversation now.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re wet and uncomfortable, aren’t you?”
He lifted his green eyes to mine. “Yeah.” Then he teetered back and forth on his feet, his shoes making a horrific squelching sound. “And my feet feel gross. James said I could get trench foot.” His eyes went wide. “Is that bad? What is trench foot?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, smirking.
“You’re not going to get trench foot from having wet shoes and feet for a few hours,” I said as he stepped back—not far enough, however—and shook himself like a dog, sending more droplets flying everywhere.
“James is an idiot. I’m sorry. I know he’s your best friend, but that kid has two brain cells competing for third place. ”
Austin tugged his sopping T-shirt away from his body, and it made a funny slurping noise. Then he gave me his biggest puppy dog eyes because he knew I was a sucker for them. Always had been. Always would be.
Ugh.
“I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. I was wrong. I should have brought the bag with me and not made it your responsibility.”
My lips twisted in amusement. “Oh, you’re laying it on thick, child.”
His grin shone brighter than the damn sun.
So much for trying to teach independence and personal responsibility.
Ugh.
I’d start the tough love next week. I rolled my eyes again and sighed, resigned to my fate. “I expect the house to be vacuumed, the bathroom to be cleaned, the weeds in the front bed to be pulled, and all your stinky freaking socks to be washed. I’m not touching those things.”
“I’ll do it. I swear. Tomorrow.”
I exhaled again and nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
“Can I have money for pizza?”
I fished twenty bucks out of the front pocket of my overalls and handed it to him. “Find your sister and buy her some too.”
“Thank you.”
“If I really wanted to milk this, I’d make you kiss my cheek and profess your love for me with the megaphone.”
“I will,” he said, though I could tell that would cause him immense embarrassment.
“If you forget next year, that’s what will happen.”
“Deal.”
I ran and grabbed the car keys from Gabrielle, told her what was up, then jogged down to the beach where we’d parked. Hopefully, that spot would be available when I got back. Otherwise, where the hell would I park?
The roads were emptier than normal as I drove back to the vineyard. Everyone on the island was at the funfair. Everyone except two moody teenagers who would rather watch dinosaurs eat people.
I pulled onto the property and headed straight for my perfect little shake-sided shack.
While I was home, I might as well use the bathroom.
The porta-potties at the funfair weren’t bad, but proper plumbing always won.
I gave my pits a quick sniff and swiped on more orange blossom deodorant—no need to hand the islanders fresh material to gossip about.
With an empty bladder and a can of sparkling water, I grabbed the fabric bag of Austin’s extra clothes from the shoe rack, double-checked both shoes were actually in there—because that would absolutely be my child, tossing in one and calling it a day—and pulled open the front door.
Birdsong. Bright, cheerful—
And a woman I didn’t recognize with murder in her eyes.
I didn’t even get a single word out before a sharp crack split the air and two prongs hit my chest.
Pain exploded through me—violent, all-consuming. My muscles seized, locked tight, and my body jerked out of my control from the taser. My jaw snapped shut, the breath punched from my lungs as the current tore through me in brutal waves.
Then nothing held me up.
I went down hard—shoulder, then my head, cracked against the doorframe.
A burst of white.
Ringing. Then darkness swallowed everything.