Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Shay
Reopening day felt wrong.
Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the creeping awareness that someone had managed to plant a skeleton on this island without a single camera catching him.
Or maybe it was simply that the idea of letting hundreds of strangers wander onto Skull Island when a killer was clearly playing hide-and-seek in the shadows felt like a special brand of madness.
But Anchor said it was happening no matter what.
Because the club needed the money and because everything had already been advertised. Pulling out now would make the cops and the town even more suspicious.
So here we were. Saturday. Almost five in the evening and an hour until sunset.
Pearl and I were stuck in the clubhouse like a pair of grounded teenagers.
Prime called it safety. Pearl called it babysitting. I was secretly okay with it, even though I would have liked to go through the haunted house in the dark.
Pearl lay sprawled across the couch in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt with one hand clutching the remote like she was channel-surfing for answers to the universe.
I paced near the bar and chewed on my lip. “I was kind of hoping to go through the haunted house in the dark,” I admitted.
Pearl didn’t even look away from the TV. “Girl, they’d chain your ankles to this couch before letting that happen.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I know. Would’ve been crazy.”
Pearl tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “With a killer running around? Crazy doesn’t even cover it.”
Fair enough.
She stretched, groaned dramatically, and then sat up. “The guys hired a whole security team from Detroit. A dozen of them. Plus ten new actors for the haunted house so the club could keep their eyes open instead of pretending to be zombies.”
“Cameras too,” I said. “Prime told me they’re everywhere.”
“Mm-hmm.” Pearl nodded. “Which is adorable, considering our ghost psycho snuck onto this island, buried or unburied a skeleton, and placed it perfectly without being seen.”
A cold shiver ran straight down my spine.
“It’s like he’s a ghost,” I whispered. “How do you move like that without making any noise or leaving tracks?”
Pearl shrugged helplessly. “Anchor said Prime, Push, and Vin watched the surveillance videos for hours. Not a single blip.”
I sighed and slumped onto the barstool.
Prime and Lost had orders to stick so close to me and Pearl tonight while the rest of the club was out on the island.
And as much as I hated the reason for it, at least it meant more time with Prime.
My cheeks warmed at the thought, and I forced myself to focus on Pearl, who was headed toward the bar.
“We’re drinking tonight,” she announced.
Prime scoffed from where he leaned against the wall near the door. “No, you’re not.”
“Oh, I’m game,” I said instantly.
Prime’s head snapped toward me. “Shay.”
“Have you ever had Sex on the Beach?” I asked him innocently.
Prime choked. Actually choked.
Pearl burst out laughing. “God, I needed that.”
Lost, who was perched on a barstool polishing a glass for the third time, said without missing a beat, “I’ve heard you get sand in every crack.”
I rolled my eyes but grinned. “I meant the drink, genius. Vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry juice, orange juice.”
Lost raised an eyebrow. “Sure you did.”
I held up my hand dramatically. “I swear. I’m not the kind of girl who goes around collecting sand.”
Pearl laughed so hard she leaned on the counter for support. “Do you really order it by saying ‘I’ll have a Sex on the Beach?’”
“Yeah,” I said. “Bartenders hear it so often they don’t even blink.”
Pearl grinned like a woman on a mission. “Then it’s decided. We are going to have a Ghostbusters marathon and drink Sexes on the Beach.” She paused, head tilted. “Or is it Sex on the Beaches?”
I burst out laughing. “What?”
“I mean, if we have more than one… what’s the plural?” she insisted.
“Two Sexes on the Beach?” Lost suggested.
“That sounds like a felony,” Prime muttered.
Pearl gasped. “Oh god, it does.”
Prime ran a hand down his face. “How about you two just drink a beer?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Sex on the Beach for me.”
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at Prime’s lips. “How about Sex on the bed?” he said, voice low.
Pearl groaned. “Oh god. You two need your own room. Lost and I are going to be emotionally damaged.”
Lost raised a hand. “Already am.”
We all laughed.
And for the first time, this felt like a real Saturday night with friends instead of a lockdown.
“Alright,” Lost said, and moved to the row of liquor bottles. “What goes in these things again?”
“Vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry juice, orange juice,” I recited.
Lost nodded and went to work like he actually knew what he was doing.
Two minutes later, he handed Pearl and me two shockingly pretty cocktails in tall glasses.
Pearl clinked hers against mine. “To not dying tonight.”
“Cheers,” I said, and took a sip.
Heaven.
Prime didn’t even try to hide his disapproval. “You two better not get drunk. Just one, okay?”
I held up the glass. “I promise to have just this one glass.”
He glared at Lost.
Lost held up both hands. “How bad can it be if these two loosen up a bit? It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, fine until we need to get two drunk women to do something other than watch movies. I pray to God nothing bad happens tonight,” Prime grumbled.
Pearl inhaled hers like water and I wasn’t too far behind her.
The movie started, Ghostbusters, the original, because Pearl insisted the reboot was “cute but not allowed on tonight’s holy night.”
We got twenty minutes in before Pearl and I were buzzing like idiots.
“I should have been a Ghostbuster,” Pearl slurred.
“Same,” I agreed. “You’d be the brains. I’d be the muscle.”
Pearl pointed at me. “Hell yeah.”
“Who you gonna call?” Lost sang under his breath.
“Me, bitch!” Pearl yelled.
Prime choked on his water.
Fifteen minutes later, we decided we needed nachos.
“No, like… we NEED them,” Pearl declared, and stumbled into the kitchen.
She opened the fridge and frowned. “Why is there a whole drawer of cheese? Is this normal?”
“We’re Wisconsin adjacent,” I reminded her. “The love of cheese crossed the Great Lakes.”
She gasped. “Right.”
Pearl attempted to chop tomatoes.
Attempted.
The woman really did not have a great natural instinct when it came to cooking. Even being as tipsy as I was, I knew I could make better nachos than she could.
I snatched it from her. “Okay! Okay. I’ll cook. You drink.”
Pearl saluted me with her cocktail. “Yes, chef.”
I assembled nachos like my life depended on it. Chips, cheese, and the meat went into the oven while I finished chopping the tomatoes, onions, and jalapenos.
Pearl downed her second drink and shouted, “THIS. IS. ART!” as I pulled the nachos from the oven and laughed so hard I nearly dropped the tray. I added all of the toppings, and Pearl poured enough salsa on hers that it could possibly qualify as soup.
She sprawled on the couch and ate nachos like she was experiencing a religious event.
Ten minutes later, she passed out. Just toppled sideways onto the couch with the remote still clutched in her hand.
I climbed onto the couch beside Prime and curled against him without thinking.
He froze for a second, then melted right into me, one hand resting on my hip, and the other brushing my hair back.
“I like being next to you,” I whispered.
His thumb traced slow circles on my waist. “I like it too, Shay.”
I tilted my head up and stared at him. “You have a name,” I slurred.
Prime smiled, slow and warm. “Yeah. Prime.”
I rolled my eyes. “No. I mean the name your mama gave you.”
His expression softened instantly. “My mama died a long time ago, babe.”
My heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
He kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay.”
I reached up and stroked his cheek. “What did she call you?”
He hesitated, just for a moment. “A name I haven’t been called in years,” he said quietly.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“Are you even going to remember this in the morning?”
I shrugged against him. “Time will tell.”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “It’s Marshal.”
I traced my thumb along his cheekbone. “Marshal,” I repeated softly. “I like it.”
“It’s just the name on my license,” he muttered. “And the one the cops use when they wanna piss me off.”
I laughed, warm and loose. “I’m glad you told me. But I’ll probably still call you Prime.”
“Because you’re drunk and not gonna remember it?” he teased.
I smiled, my eyelids growing heavy. “I mean… you might not be wrong…”
His arms tightened around me, steady and sure, as my body relaxed into sleep.
And just before the world went fuzzy, I heard him whisper into my hair, “Goodnight, Shay.”