Chapter 6
Six
I breathed in the salty sea air and placed my hands on my hips, looking around, surveying the long stretch of light, sandy beach and the turquoise water, so clean you could see the fish from yards away. I was more excited to step onto the white sand of Panama City Beach than I thought I’d be. I’d grown up right next door to both St. Simons Island and Jekyll Island and was just an hour and some change from Tybee Island, so the appeal should’ve been lost on me, but somehow, it wasn’t.
“What do you say?” Phillip asked, placing an arm around my waist. His skin was warm and clammy; the Florida sky was overcast with a hint of sun peeking through, the air surprisingly humid. “Should we take a quick dip?”
I turned to him and smiled. Normally, I’d be all business, but the water looked so inviting, so clean and refreshing. We didn’t have to meet Dee for over an hour, and Roberta and Mama were settling in at their motel room. “Let’s do it,” I said, and he grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the water.
The spray lapping at my ankles felt warm and salty-soft as it hit my skin. I squealed with laughter as Phillip picked me up and pulled me into the sea with him, only stopping when the water was at his chest level and almost over my head. He cradled me in his arms and we floated, seemingly weightless. The only thing I could feel were his strong arms holding me tight.
I gave a mock kick and wrestled myself free. “I can swim, you know, Deville.”
“Let’s see, then.” He laughed, splashing me, rivulets of water running down his bare chest. “Give me your best doggy paddle.”
“Nope.” And with that, I disappeared under the water, swimming a few yards away and doubling back, grabbing ahold of his black swim trunks from underwater and giving them a tug. When I came up for air, he was gasping with laughter and embarrassment.
“Don’t do that! I thought you were a shark!”
“That was the idea,” I said with a giggle, treading water around him. “Though all you had to do was look down. It’s not like back at home where the sea is mixed with a million tons of mud and slime.”
“Hey, don’t knock my favorite beach,” Phillip said, pushing up his legs and floating on his back. Still treading water, I watched him. His black hair was slick and wet and plastered on his forehead, his eyes closed, his long eyelashes inky against his pale skin. He was beautiful, as always. For the millionth time, I thought to myself, How did I get so lucky?
“The question is,” he answered, not opening his eyes, his face still turned to the sun, “How did I get so lucky?”
“Get out of my head,” I said automatically, happily.
“The only thing that would make me luckier,” he continued, spitting a stream of ocean water up into the air, “Was if you had taken off my trunks when you were down there.”
“Pig!” I splashed around a little, feeling warm to the bone with contentment. If only we could stay here forever, just floating in the sea, lazing on the beach, letting the sun and sand claim us until dark. If only we had no adult responsibilities and could just be. Maybe one day.
Phillip turned his head and looked at me. “It’ll happen, sweetie,” he said softly, the water lapping at his cheek. “I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I said.
Phillip glided one arm across the water between us and it came to rest on my shoulder. He flicked a bead of water at me and grinned. “You won’t have to.”
I sat there and gaped. I didn’t want to get out of the car.
There was nothing left of the house. Nothing but cinders, ash, and the cloying, dank smell of smoke that I thought I’d never get out of my nostrils. Acrid and decaying, it was nothing like the pleasant, waxy smokiness of a lit candle or even a hearty bonfire; this was altogether different. The smell of burning and melting wood, rot, and entire rooms having died by fire; the smell of utter destruction.
“I can’t bear the thought that he might have been in there,” I said in a small voice, and Phillip grabbed my hand. I glanced in the side mirror. Roberta was holding her hand over her nose in the backseat. “Even though I hated him at times, I just can’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” Phillip said from the driver’s seat, for once not leaning forward take me in his arms. He seemed to sense that I needed space, and I was eternally grateful for how well he knew me, how deeply he understood my needs.
“I only came here once,” I continued, my eyes fixed on a spot in the middle of the ruined home. It was a pile of jagged, burnt wood and cinders now, but if I recalled correctly, that middle room had been the baby’s room. My half-sister Shay, who would now be almost out of her toddler years. When I’d visited, she’d still been an infant in diapers. I’d put her to bed one night, crooning a lullaby I’d remembered from my own childhood. “Lullaby Looly.” It was one of the very few poignant memories I had of this family, this family that I’d rejected. It hadn’t been for Daddy’s lack of trying, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get past my own childhood to take part in a new family. The one Christmas visit I’d given him had been all I could give, and the thought that it might have been the last hit me in the chest like a punch.
“At least you know your sister is okay,” Roberta said, seeming to read my mind. “I know you must be eager to see her.” Then, to my surprise, she lifted her voice and sang, “ The gods bless thee and keep thee from cruel annoy, sing lullaby looley.”
“How do you know that song?” I asked, looking at her sharply.
She shrugged. “My dad used to sing it to me when I was little.”
I looked down at the floorboard. “Of course. That’s probably where I learned it too.” I unbuckled my seatbelt forcefully, not sure what else to do with my sudden angry energy, sending the metal clasp flying into the window with a loud thunk . “FUCK!”
Phillip extended his hand, on offer but not forced. After a moment, I took it, and he laced his fingers through mine. “Do you want to get out, have a look around?” he asked.
“No,” I answered, then sighed. “But I guess I’d better.” I wrenched the door handle and got out of the car, my extremities feeling heavy as lead. The smell was much worse outside; it smelled like smoky death. Knowing that someone had died in this fire, even if it turned out it wasn’t my dad, was a hard pill to swallow. It made looking at the smoldering heap even harder. To know this had been someone’s final resting place and that their death had likely not been a quick or painless one.
“What time is Dee supposed to be here?” Roberta asked, putting an arm around my shoulders and walking in step with me as I shuffled up the walkway.
“Any minute,” I said, grateful for her presence beside me. Phillip walked around to the back of the house, or what was left of it. “She’s been staying with a friend. They’re going to watch Shay, and Mom is going to pick her up and bring her here.”
“Is that gonna be weird for you?” Roberta asked. “The two of them together?”
“Very weird,” I said with a dry laugh. “But probably weirder for them than for me. You remember the old Laureen. She would have scratched Dee’s eyes out as soon as look at her. But I guess now that—that they think—" I found myself unable to finish the sentence, and Roberta wrapped her arm tighter around me.
“Hey, we don’t know yet. Not for sure,” she said reassuringly. “I wish we’d hear something. I feel like it’s been long enough for them to have run the DNA.”
“Yeah, what about that?” I asked, looking at her. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s been two days since the fire, and they still haven’t identified the body? They still haven’t located Dad’s friend he was supposed to be fishing with? Maybe Dee’s right—they’re either stalling or just completely incompetent.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know much about how these kinds of investigations work, but I was under the impression they could identify bodies in, like, a matter of hours. It seems like they’d have multiple officers and branches working on this and yet…we haven’t heard from anyone.” I wrapped my jacket around myself even though I wasn’t cold. The humidity was thick in the air, and residual heat came off the burned relic that had once been my dad’s house. Still, I was chilled to the bone. “I can’t help but feel…something’s…wrong. Beyond the obvious.”
Roberta sighed. “I feel it too.” She gave me a nudge, and we both looked to the corner of the yard where Phillip was crouched down, attempting to peer into what was once a crawl space. He dug at the dirt with his long fingers, then pulled his hand back as if he’d been stung. As I suspected, the house was still hot in places. “Looks like your boyfriend does as well.” She gave me a sisterly punch in the arm and a bright smile. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Stormy, I promise.”
“That’s just it, though,” I grumbled. “ Is there a bottom? Because I’m beginning to think there isn’t.”
“You’re starting to burn, hon. We should probably head back to the motel.”
“Mmm.” I rolled over from my back to my stomach on the donut-shaped beach blanket and threw my arms over my head. I didn’t care if I burned. I just wanted to bliss out for a while.
Mama had delivered Dee to the charred remains of the house she had shared with my dad shortly after my conversation with Roberta, and things had been…tense, to say the least.
At least the two of them were getting along. If “getting along” meant Mama trying her best to be warm and comforting to Dee but slightly failing, her own awkwardness getting in her way, and Dee doing her own best to showcase her politeness and intelligence and only succeeding in making herself seem a little desperate. They were trying, and I had to appreciate that, but the whole thing had been terrible. There’d been a forced conversation between the three of us (Phillip and Roberta had kept their distance to give us privacy) as we stood there among the smoke and ashes, trying to avoid the elephant in the room that nobody wanted to talk about, but all three of us were thinking: was it Daddy who had burned up in there?
According to Dee, the police had been deeply unhelpful, avoidant even. They had conducted a half-assed search, coordinated with the Pensacola police, to see whether Daddy was staying with his friend Arnold, but after going to his house and finding him not there, they’d pretty much given up. “I’m afraid to even go down to the PD again, they’re so rude to me,” Dee had said with a sniff. “They act like I’m bothering them. Like I’m being a nuisance. And you tell me—haven’t they had more than enough time to identify the body?”
“I don’t know, Dee,” Mama answered, a worried expression on her face. “But I tend to think they could have—should have—been done by now.”
“I just need to know whether my husband is alive or dead!” Dee had collapsed into tears, both Mama and I trying to comfort her, ignoring the turmoil in our own hearts. Dee made it about twenty minutes before the smell of the smoke and the sight of her ruined house had been too much for her, and she’d wanted to leave. There was nothing for Phillip, Roberta, and me to do but go back to the motel for the night and try to get some rest.
I’d tossed and turned all night, the smell of acrid smoke lingering in my nostrils, waking up every few minutes to the phantom sound of my cellphone ringing, hoping it was the police or Dee with information, only to find that nobody was calling. Finally, at five a.m., I’d gotten up and tiptoed out of the motel room. There was nowhere to go, not in the wee hours, so I’d just sat in the cab of the truck, staring out at a lone seagull in the parking lot picking at an old, crumpled bag of Bugles.
On a whim, I’d opened my laptop and started writing. I needed a distraction, and it felt good to type mindlessly, to get words out on a screen. Pretty soon, my hands were flying across the keyboard, and after an hour, I looked out the window to see the sun had risen, the seagull had long ago finished the bag of Bugles and flown off, and Phillip was standing outside the motel door, wrapped in a robe, staring at me curiously. I’d given him a little wave and shut the laptop, saving my writing before I did. Somehow, , I’d managed to write an entire article about Phillip Deville and what it was like to be the ultimate fangirl-turned-rock-star girlfriend.
It was a good article, too, I thought as I dug my toes downward into the warm sand. Good enough that I might even think about pitching it somewhere. I’d have to let Phillip read it first, get his permission since he was the subject matter, but I figured he’d be okay with it. Playful and funny, it put him in a very good light without giving away too much personal information.
I’d done a little scrolling before we’d come out to the beach while waiting for Phillip to come back from the convenience store next door with sunscreen and Gatorade. From what I could see, the livestream had done really well, with several hundred thousand views, and the accompanying article with a transcript of the interview was still being shared all over Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. There were a few kids doing TikToks having “conversations” about the interview. And #PhillipDeville had been a trending topic on Twitter since yesterday.
Given that Phillip was very in-demand right now, if I wanted to flex my writing skills (and make a little money in the bargain) now was the exact time to put it out into the world.
Phillip had said absolutely nothing about his interview or its reception since we’d been in Panama City Beach. He had been completely focused on Daddy’s disappearance and making sure I was getting through this okay. It touched me deeply that he cared so much about me and my family, a family he barely knew. So much so that he’d be willing to put his own life and career on the back burner to care for me first. I was flattered but not at all surprised. Phillip was a good guy—the best guy.
I’d told him all of this as we’d walked to the beach and started setting up our towels. “That’s great,” he’d said, and asked me if I wanted him to put on my sunscreen, to which I’d happily obliged. Any excuse to have that man’s hands all over my back and shoulders…or anywhere else, for that matter.
We’d been lying on the sand, getting sun and gazing out at the water—the surfers riding the waves, families frolicking in the surf, and people playing frisbee and volleyball a few yards away—for at least two hours now, and I didn’t want to go back to the motel. We hadn’t heard from anyone today, and I was jumping out of my skin with nerves and anxiety. Sitting in the motel room staring at the dingy walls was not my idea of an afternoon well spent.
“I’m sure we can think of something to occupy your time.”
I rolled over, pushing up my sunglasses and giving Phillip a mock glare. “If you don’t get out of my damn head…”
“Well, if you’re not ready to leave yet,” he said, ignoring me, “I’ll go take a quick dip. You good?”
“I’m good,” I said, laying back onto the towel and throwing my arms over my head to block the sun. If only I could stop my cacophony of thoughts enough to actually relax, to get some rest…even if I didn’t actually sleep, just having five minutes of silence would be enough …
“Stormy. Stormy, honey, wake up.”
“Huh?” I rolled over, wincing at the tight pain in my shoulders that I recognized immediately as a sunburn. “What?”
Phillip stood over me, his black hair falling around his face. He leaned down and offered me his hand. “You fell asleep,” he said, closing his fingers around mine and pulling me to a sitting position. “I hate to wake you, but you’re burning. You need to get out of the sun.”
“I know, I feel it,” I said with a groan, letting him pull me all the way up to my feet. I slipped my feet into my black sandals and gingerly pulled my cut-up Joy Division tank top over my head, wincing again as it touched my tender skin. “I should have listened to you before.”
“I’m glad you got some sleep at least,” he said, leaning over to brush sand off my legs. “We have some news.”
“Daddy?” I said, stopping in my tracks, staring at Phillip with wide eyes.
He frowned. “Er, no. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that. I heard from Roberta.”
“And?”
“She tried to get in touch with Benny’s friends, you know, the guys who live down this way they thought might know your dad? They won’t talk to her. Keep hanging up the phone every time she calls.” Phillip grinned. “Benny sure does know some upstanding people.”
“Okay…” I stared at him in confusion. “What does this…”
“Benny and Lee are on their way down,” Phillip said, shaking the sand out of my beach towel and rolling it up. He tucked it under one arm. “Benny’s going to go visit the guys himself, and Lee wants to help too.”
“But what about?—"
Phillip gave me a salty, sandy kiss on the mouth. “Don’t forget your phone. It’s laying there in the sand.”
I leaned down and grabbed my phone, brushing the sand off the screen, and smiled as it lit up with a text message from Lee.
“Blinken and Nod are in tip-top shape, have been fed all the treats, and Jamie is coming over to take the next shift of catsitting duty. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. See you tonight.”
This was probably a recipe for disaster.
The little dive beach bar—hilariously monikered The Naughty Clam — was already full to capacity with what I assumed were a combination of locals and tourists. And judging from the sound of the place, everybody was evidently three drinks in already. Between the loud satellite radio dialed up to eleven and blaring Iron Maiden, the rowdy banter, the clink of beer mugs and shot glasses, and the occasional crack as someone hit a ball on the pool table, I could barely hear Phillip as he pulled me close to croon, “Should we get a table?”
“Is there even one free?” I asked. He scanned the room, pointing to an unoccupied corner over by the bathrooms. I gestured to everyone, and we all hurried to grab the table before someone else did. Benny, to the surprise of nobody, made a beeline for a free pool table and started chalking up the cue. Lee took a long swig of his beer, then sat it on the table, hitting me with a dazzling smile. “Would you mind making sure nobody roofies me?” he asked, and I nodded, sidling into the booth beside Phillip as Lee meandered over to the pool table to join Benny. I noticed with a smirk that he grabbed a handful of Benny’s ass as he walked around and grabbed his own pool cue. Roberta crammed in beside me, and on the other side of us, Mom and Dee sat awkwardly side by side, their bodies stiff.. They were like two totally separate entities, sitting together, neither acknowledging the other. Weird, but better than the alternative, which was a catfight. The old Mom would have already been clutching a fistful of hair.
What a strange little crew we were, all of us here together, in Panama City Beach of all places, and for such a strange reason. Though it really shouldn’t seem strange, not after all we’d been through. I watched Benny and Lee exchanging shit-talk at the pool table, the sexual chemistry between them evident even from yards away; it was so thick you could cut it like beer foam. Phillip was a warm, sensual presence beside me, his muscular leg against mine, the scratchy denim of his black jeans enough to send a little thrill through me as it touched my bare leg. And Roberta, scanning the drink menu as though it had something exotic and different to offer and not just the usual boring list of domestic and draft beers and cheap wine, all marked up considerably. I felt a wave of love and gratitude wash over me for all of them, all who had come here to help me, to support me, to be with me.
For the first time in a long time, possibly forever, I felt like I had a family.
“Are you okay?” I asked Mom. Being here, worrying about my dad while having to navigate the awkwardness with his new wife, technically her replacement, and trying to support me through all this, must be hard enough on her. But here she was sitting in a bar, when I knew good and well she was clinging by her fingernails to her sobriety. “Lee wasn’t thinking when he suggested this place. Phillip and I can go somewhere else with you, maybe to get a bite to eat? I saw a wing place around the corner. We could grab some munchie dinner?”
Mom smiled at that. One of my few happy memories from growing up was Munchie Dinner. Most Friday nights—there was the odd one when Mom didn’t remember, or when she hadn’t had the money to run to Walmart—we’d load up on junk food for our supper. We’d each settle on the couch with a huge plate filled high with chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks, pizza rolls, onion rings, and funnily enough, carrot sticks. Mama had always insisted that there we have at least one vegetable present. Of course, we’d both drowned those little healthy matchsticks in ranch, negating all the health out of them, but it was a fond memory, especially now that I didn’t eat most of that stuff anymore. Vegan ranch just didn’t quite hit the same.
“I’m fine, honey,” Mama said with a reassuring smile, but I could see the sadness behind her eyes, and a little anxiety too. She gripped her purse handle tightly. “Besides, what’s a rabbit like you going to eat at a wing hut?”
Phillip snorted beside me, and I elbowed him in the side. “I’m sure they have French fries or something.”
“Deep fried in lard,” Mom said. “I got that lecture years ago. Honey, I’m fine. I promise. You look like you got burned today. Your shoulders are slap pink.”
I touched at my shoulder absently, aware that she was changing the subject on purpose. “Yeah, a little. They don’t hurt that bad, though. Phillip put aloe on them for me.” I blushed, my face likely going pink to match my shoulders. Phillip had indeed put aloe all over my sunburned shoulders, but he hadn’t stopped there, insisting on putting lotion all over my back, then my legs, then my thighs…culminating in an accidental game of slip-and-slide that had seen me slide right off the bed and onto the floor, Phillip tumbling right after me.
Not that we’d let that stop us, though. The floor had turned out to be the perfect location for the activities we’d gotten up to next.
Phillip pinched my leg, and I reached over and pinched his back, taking a long sip of my drink as I recovered from my thoughts. If Mama noticed the vibe between us, she was politely pretending to ignore it.
“I’ll go get us all drinks,” Roberta said, slapping her hands on the table, her disgusted expression making it very clear that she’d noticed our display. “Laureen, you want a Coke?”
“Sprite, actually,” Mom answered. “The last thing I need is caffeine.”
“Me too,” Dee said, cutting her eyes to Mom briefly, then looking away awkwardly. “I don’t think I can bear to drink. My nerves are shot.” Mama looked momentarily pleased to have a fellow dry buddy, and I was surprised to see her reach over and give Dee’s hand a conciliatory pat.
“And you two lovebirds?”
I cut my eyes to Mama, still reluctant, but she nodded. “It’s fine. Order what you want. I’m going to be fine.”
“Okay, well…I guess I’ll just have a, um, a Jack and Coke.”
“Same,” Phillip acquiesced.
“Two Sprites, two Jack and Cokes. And a frozen mango margarita the size of my head for me,” Roberta said with fake cheerfulness. “They always have the best boozy slush drinks at the beach.”
“She says that like she didn’t just come from the beach.” I laughed as she sauntered away and laughed harder as I saw her flip me the bird from behind her back as she approached the bar.
“Bless her heart,” Mama said, her eyes on Roberta’s retreating form. “She’s trying so hard to hide it, but she’s a mess.”
I swallowed. She was right; Roberta was barely holding it together. As soon as we figured all this out with Daddy, I vowed to myself, I needed to sit down with her and talk, see if I couldn’t help in some way. Everything that had happened was taking a huge toll on her, and she was taking too much on herself, helping me. She needed my support too.
I looked over to Benny and Lee, the two of them leaned up against the pool table, Benny’s arm around Lee’s waist. Lee was showing Benny something on his phone, and the two of them were laughing.
I tensed involuntarily as two men approached my friends. They were dressed in good old boy clothes—Carhart jackets, ball caps, and dirty, ripped jeans and work boots—and figured them for locals, definitely not tourists. They had the at-home-here swagger that made that evident, even if they hadn’t been dressed like two dudes just off work. One of the guys grabbed a free pool cue, and while I couldn’t hear him over the loudness of the bar, I could make out what he said by reading his lips: “Game?”
Lee leaned in closer to Benny and cocked his head to the side, asking him without words if he wanted to play. Benny nodded, and the two of them shared a look that could only be described as scorching. I beamed, proud of Lee. I thought back to the conversation we’d had that night in Jamie’s room, how upset he’d been at the mistakes he’d made, how much he worried that he’d fucked things up with Benny forever because he hadn’t been able to come out, to confess publicly that he and Benny were together. Now, it seemed that they’d turned a corner.
The four of them shook hands, introduced themselves, and resumed shooting pool.
Dee was scrolling through her phone. She’d been checking it for updates every ten seconds since we’d been here. She must be out of her mind frantic. I’d never really liked her, mainly out of a sense of loyalty to Mom, but I sure did feel sorry for her. Her husband, the father of her child, missing, possibly dead. Her house gone up in flames. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. She looked up, noticing Lee and Benny. “Those two are cute. I should tell them we have a PRIDE parade here now.”
I smiled, bemused. Dee was from an even smaller town than I was and had led a pretty sheltered life. She probably did think that PRIDE was the height of progressiveness. I didn’t begrudge her. She meant well.
“Chad and I went once,” Dee continued as Roberta approached the table, arms weighed down with all our drinks. I jumped up to help her.
“Chad went to a PRIDE parade?” Mom asked incredulously as I placed her Sprite in front of her. She took a sip, her face a picture of disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like the man I married.”
“Well, it’s the man I married,” Dee said, her voice a little high. “We had a great time. He even bought one of those little rainbow flags?—"
“I’m just saying, that doesn’t sound like Chad’s thing—" Mama continued, oblivious to the fact that she’d upset Dee.
“It sounds like he’s become more open minded. That’s great,” I jumped in, hoping to diffuse the situation before it began. Though the picture in my head was likely the exact same one in Mama’s—my drunken father screaming belligerently at the TV when we’d inadvertently watched an old rerun of Golden Girls in which Blanche finds out her brother is gay. That lovely family TV night had ended with Dad throwing his full Pbr can at the TV, beer pooling all over the carpet and Mama and me grabbing towels from the bathroom to mop it up. Rather than helping us, Daddy had slammed out of the house and driven off, presumably to go to the bar where no queer content threatened to ruin his good time.
He never acted like that when he was drunk, and often, he didn’t even remember when he was sober, but like Mama, it was hard for me to forget. And equally hard to accept that he was so different now.
“I agree. I’m glad Chad changed,” Mama said, the tiny straw still in the corner of her mouth. She kept sipping, her drink more than half gone already. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Dee. I’m glad that he’s a better husband to you than he was to me. Genuinely, I am.”
“Look, I know things weren’t great between you two,” Dee said, two blotches of color appearing on her cheeks. “He told me plenty. But he’s missing, Laureen. He’s missing, and he might be dead. Do you not understand?”
Mama sat up straight, slamming her drink down on the table. Her own face was red now. I knew that look. The hive had been kicked over, and the queen bee was about to come out. “I do understand, Dee. I do understand that Chad is missing and tensions are high and we’re all worried. But it would be nice if you could acknowledge that this is extremely hard for Stormy and me for more reasons than just the obvious. All this stress…uncertainty…it takes a toll. Brings up old memories, old trauma. It’s very hard to just let all that go because Chad might be—" She stopped herself short, her face a thundercloud. “None of the pain he caused goes away just because he’s missing.”
“But it’s not the time. Or the place,” Dee said hotly. “Not without Chad here to defend himself.”
“ Defend himself?” Mama parroted with a harsh laugh. “As though he could.”
However much they’d been avoiding eye contact with each other when we’d arrived, they were definitely looking each other dead in the eye now. Dee had her hand curled so tightly around her glass, I wasn’t 100 percent certain she wasn’t about to fling it into Mama’s face. And my mother looked about four seconds away from stabbing Dee in the neck with her straw. I looked down into my Jack and Coke, suddenly no longer in the mood for it, or food, or anything else.
“Guys…” Roberta said in a small voice. I could only see her eyebrows; the rest of her face was thoroughly tucked into her large frozen mango monstrosity. “Y’all.”
But it was too late. Dee had already flung herself out of the booth, sloshing Sprite all over the table, her face beet red. “If you think I’m going to sit here for one second and?—"
“If you can’t handle the truth of what I’m saying?—"
“Ladies,” Phillip tried to interject, mopping at the table with a napkin. “I think it would be best for everybody if we let cooler heads prevail. Why don’t we step outside for a cigarette?” I shot him a glare—both he and Mama had quit, last I checked. He looked back at me, his eyebrows raised, and I could feel his thoughts. One problem at a time, okay? He patted the square box of nicotine gum in the pocket of his black T-shirt and my shoulders relaxed.
“Why did you even come down here, anyway?” Dee demanded. “Stormy is the one I wanted here; she would’ve called you with updates. There was no need for you. You’re not Chad’s wife anymore.”
“I came here for my daughter!” Mama spat. “To offer her support. She didn’t want to come! Do you think it’s easy for her, coming down here after years of almost no contact, to possibly identify her dad’s dead body?” I bit my lip. The truth was, I hadn’t had contact with Mama regularly for just as many years, and her glossing over that to make herself out to be some kind of saint didn’t really jive with me, despite the fact that I agreed with a lot of what she’d said. I felt my own blood pressure rise.
“Now, look,” I cut in, trying to keep the angry edge from my voice. “Y’all both need to cut it the fuck out right now. I don’t want to be in the middle of this shit. I have my own shit to deal with without the two of you acting like middle school mean girls!” I was shouting now, my attempt to remain calm forgotten. My fingers were tingling like mad, and I shook them in front of me, trying to get rid of the almost painful sensation in my fingertips. “SHUT UP! CUT IT THE FUCK OUT! JESUS CHRIST!”
Mama and Dee both went quiet immediately, Mama’s face still red, Dee sniffling and trying to hold back tears. Phillip and Roberta both stared at me, their eyes wide.
“Stormy.” I looked over. Lee was standing at the table, pool cue in his hand, looking at me with huge eyes.
“What?” I asked irritably.
“Um. Everyone in the bar is listening to you,” he said in a low voice, cutting his eyes to the left. “Watching you.”
“Well, they should learn to mind their own business,” I said pissily, still angry, even though I knew I’d gone too far.
“We should get out of here,” Lee said, his voice still low. “Now.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?” But as I said the words, my eyes fell to the table just across from the jukebox. I could feel the heat of Phillip’s gaze as he noticed it too. Both Mama and Dee had the good sense to stay silent. Roberta’s margarita now almost reached her hairline. We’d all seen them at the same time.
There was a young couple sitting together in a booth, the type of pair you’d see at any bar on a date, except…the girl was brazenly, happily filming the scene my family had just caused in public with her smartphone. And from the excited and frenzied look on her face, she had every intention of sharing the footage.
“Fuck,” said Phillip in a low voice behind me. “Fuck.”
The silence in the car was deafening. I sat wedged between Roberta and Phillip in the backseat, the two of them staring out the window, lost in their own thoughts. Lee, in the front passenger seat, had his hand on Benny’s knee as he drove, but gone was the playful mood from earlier. None of us had spoken more than two words since we’d left The Naughty Clam, our half-full drinks shedding condensation onto the table we’d abandoned.
Phillip was obviously worried about the young woman who had filmed us. He and Roberta had rushed over to their table to ask her to stop filming, which she had, but not before shoving her phone into her oversized purse with an expression that made it crystal clear she wouldn’t be deleting anything. Not wanting to cause a further scene, they’d left it alone. We knew there was no chance of that happening, and any kerfuffle Phillip got involved in would only end up making more of a spectacle. But he wasn’t happy about it, which was evident in the look of fury still etched on his full lips as he stared through the glass.. With his “comeback” so new, a link to a missing persons and possible arson case, combined with a huge, messy family fight in a dive bar, was the last thing Phillip needed or wanted. Guilt rolled uneasily in my belly. I’d made an already fraught situation so much worse with my angry outburst, and he couldn’t even be visibly angry about it front of me because my dad was missing.
Roberta sighed beside me. She hadn’t spoken more than two words since the big fight, choosing to instead suck back her margarita like it was her job, then flouncing out to the car in a silent huff. I felt guilty about putting her through all of this too. She’d insisted on coming down here to help me, to offer me support, but Mama had been right—it was taking a toll on her already weighed-down shoulders.
I wondered whether being around my family made her think about her brother. She must miss him, especially in light of everything that had happened with her dad and Guthrie. She didn’t have much family, and I knew from experience that had to hurt. Even being around the dysfunction of my family probably seemed better to her than having no family at all. It must be painful, to feel so alone. I put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze, and she turned briefly, her profile giving away the slightest of smiles, but then she turned back to the window, her face hidden again in shadow.
As for Lee and Benny, I could sense what was going on between them. They couldn’t wait to be alone, to get their hands on each other. I could feel their love for each other, burning big and bright in my mind and heart. It left an aura I could almost see, a bright orange-red, and when I closed my eyes, it made me smile.
I reached over and grabbed Phillip’s hand. Despite his moody expression, he clasped mine back immediately, a movement that had become second nature to us both. I rested my head on his shoulder and sent him a silent message, one I knew he would hear without me having to say a word.
I love you.
“I love you too,” he said out loud, the only words that had been spoken since we’d all gotten in the car. I smiled.
I’m sorry.
No need.
Up front, Benny rummaged with his right hand through a giant CD book—the leather-bound kind with a zipper and little plastic sleeves, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since at least 2002. “Music?”
“Please,” I said eagerly, chuckling as I watched him drive with one arm and rummage for CDs with the other. “Anybody ever tell you about Apple Music? Or Spotify? Or cable radio, for goddess’ sake?”
“I don’t have time for any of that shit,” Benny answered good-naturedly as he extracted a CD from the sleeve. “My CDs have been serving me just fine since I first bought ‘em, and until they crap out on me, I’m good.” He slid the CD into the deck, and I watched it disappear into the car’s console as Benny turned the volume up.
The sweet, slow synth of Duran Duran’s “Chauffer” swirled through the speakers, starting off quiet and then swelling through the car like the crest of a wave. “I figured you were a metalhead like the rest of us,” I said with a laugh, surprised but not displeased at his song choice. I remembered the video for this song, a black-and-white artistic confection that had shades of S not quite right but a reasonably close facsimile—their impeccable makeup, and shining, youthful hair, and felt a pang of insecurity. I’d been a rock fangirl once, full of youth and promise, and I, too, had been obsessed with Phillip Deville. Now I was just a thirtysomething whose youth was fading, fast. These girls were fucking gorgeous.
Yeah, but you actually got the guy, you idiot, I told myself, biting off my negative thoughts. You literally got Phillip Deville, the man they’re here to see. He’s yours.
I knew he was inside my head, no matter what I’d said a few moments ago. Normally, a remark like that would have him touching me with warmth, acknowledgement. A small, sensual smile or a flick of the eyes to let me know he’d heard me and that he loved me. But Phillip wasn’t paying me any attention. He was too focused on the scene outside. He stared out the window, his face dark.
“No chance of me getting to the motel room unseen, I guess,” he said, his voice dripping with steel, and Lee turned in his seat to look at us.
“I wonder who tipped them all off,” he said, meeting my eyes, his freckles standing out against his pale cheeks. “It couldn’t have been that one rando with the phone. I could see him managing to follow us here, but he wouldn’t have had time to let all these other folks know. How on earth did they find you?”
“Whoever it was, they’re an asshole,” Phillip thundered, his voice loud and angry in the small SUV. “But I guess it doesn’t fucking matter now.”
“If you don’t feel like talking, you can just say ‘no comment’ and push right through them,” Roberta offered. “Just walk straight inside, and they’ll have no choice but to leave.”
“He can try that, but you know they’re going to swarm him the moment he steps out of the car,” I said. The only reason they hadn’t already descended upon us was because they probably didn’t recognize Benny’s vehicle. “And don’t underestimate how long they’ll be willing to wait outside the door to our room. Half of them probably brought sleeping bags.”
“I can turn around and leave?” Benny suggested, turning to Phillip. “You guys can stay in our room with me and Lee for tonight.”
Phillip considered this for a moment. “No,” he said finally, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I’ve played this game a million times. Doesn’t matter how long you avoid them, they’ll just keep waiting. You change locations, they’ll follow. Better to face the music now and get it over with.” He gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Stormy.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I said, raising his hand to my mouth and kissing his knuckles. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “I’m the one who decided to make a comeback. And at the worst possible time. I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you somehow. Starting with this.” And with that, he threw open the door and stepped out, all 6’5” of his long, lean body emerging from the car like the rock god that he was.
A literal roar of female voices came from the other side of the parking lot, along with the stamping of feet as fans and reporters ran over to our parked vehicle parked. I gaped at Roberta. “It’s like the fucking Beatles on Ed Sullivan.”
She grinned back at me, her eyes wide. “Let’s jump out and make a break for your room before they notice us.”
“Too late,” Benny said, and a moment later, a fist was pounding on the glass, a face pressed up against my window. All I could make out of the girl’s smooshed features were freckles that seemed magnified as they scrunched against the glass. “I fucking hate you!” she yelled at me, holding her hand up to the car and flipping me the bird. “I hate your guts!”
I swallowed and managed a small wave and a friendly smile. “Hi!” I called back in a cheery voice. I turned to Roberta with a shaky laugh. “I guess they figured out he has a girlfriend,” I said with a shrug.
Benny and Lee were laughing in the front. “She can’t see you, anyway,” Lee reassured me. “She just knows you’re back there.”
I caught a flash of burgundy hair and what looked like black leather, and then the person disappeared into the crowd. I craned my neck, scanning, but it was just a bunch of reporters and groupies.
“Welcome to the jungle, baby,” Roberta said, nudging me in the side. “You’re gonna dieeeeeeeee.”
When the girl, who undoubtedly would’ve fought me for the title of Phillip’s Biggest Fan, had finished shouting expletives at us and moved back from the car, I stepped out, pushing through the throng of people who had already descended on Phillip, taking my place by his side. Roberta, Benny, and Lee also emerged from the car, hanging back a little, going relatively unnoticed. I couldn’t help but see how comfortable, how at ease Phillip looked, standing there amongst the crowd, head and shoulders taller than all of us, his dark hair shining in the glow of the streetlamps, a slightly mischievous smile on his face.
“Look, guys,” he said, his voice booming out over the crowd, which fell silent immediately. “I’m just here to grab a bed for the night. We’re here on private family business, and I’d really appreciate if you’d all clear out so we can have some privacy. Okay?” He didn’t wait for anyone to answer, but instead nodded as though he’d been given an affirmation. “Thanks.” I figured that was it and moved for him to take my arm and walk back to the motel together. But Phillip paused, his expression turning serious, then spoke again.
“My girlfriend Stormy’s father is missing. He hasn’t been seen since a suspected case of arson burned his house to the ground two days ago. Chad Bradley has another daughter and a wife, too, and they all love him and want to know what happened to him. The police are being less than cooperative so far.” He swallowed and went on, his voice booming out over the crowd. “Instead of focusing on me and my boring activities at a motel, maybe some of you journalists in the crowd could look into Chad Bradley’s disappearance.”
My mouth gaped open as I stared at Phillip.
“And that’s all I have to say. I appreciate everyone giving us our privacy.” And with that, Phillip took my arm and steered me toward the motel.
“Jesus, you could have warned me,” I whispered hotly to him as we walked.
“I thought I’d take advantage of the attention,” he said sheepishly, shooting me a quick look. “I thought?—"
“Wait!” a voice cut through, interrupting Phillip. I recognized that voice. I turned and groaned audibly as Dee stepped out from her car, which was parked just across from ours, her blond ponytail bobbing behind her as she stepped forward. “I can clarify about Stormy’s father!”
To her credit, she’d momentarily gotten everyone to stop looking at Phillip and me. We should have run for it, rushing into our motel room and slamming and locking the door, but I was stuck to the concrete, unable to move.
“You have information about Stormy’s father and the missing person’s case?” a woman asked. She was holding out a little silver mini-microphone like the kind I’d seen on TikTok videos, attached to her phone, which she was using to film. “And who are you?”
“I’m Stormy’s stepmother, Deidre Bradley,” she said smoothly, and I realized as the ring light hit her face that she’d reapplied her makeup since the bar. My hands involuntarily curled into fists. She had prepared for this. I doubted she’d been the one to tip them off, but she’d obviously anticipated this scene and had planned to use it to her advantage. It was no different than what Phillip had done, but for some reason, it made me mad.
If I hadn’t been so angry, I would have given her credit for how smart it was.
“What Phillip said is true. Stormy’s father, Chad Bradley, my husband, is missing,” Dee said, her face composed, only one tiny forehead wrinkle giving away her worry. “It was our home, the one we shared together with our young daughter, that burned down. Police can’t rule out arson, but as of right now, we don’t know.” She paused, dabbing at an eye with a tissue. When she looked back up, her face was full of fierce resolve. “My husband Chad had planned to go away this past weekend for a fishing trip with an old friend, and we’re hoping he’s just out of cellphone range and has no idea what’s going on. But the police found a body at our home, a body that has yet to be identified.” A gasp went through the crowd, and Dee paused for a moment, fishing in the pocket of her fitted white blazer to pull out a flyer, one of the ones they’d had down at the precinct. In the picture, my father looked distinguished, with his graying hair slicked back and his aviator glasses hiding his bright blue eyes. His mouth was relaxed, an easy smile plastered across his face, a smile I didn’t really recognize. Dad’s smiles had been few and far between when I was a kid, and half the time, it was a cruel, mocking kind of smile, the kind brought on by a very dirty (and often problematic) joke, or from mocking my mother. This was the smile of a nice, kind man who didn’t have much stake in anything serious, someone who was happy go-lucky, friendly, and kind. The collar of his white polo shirt made a sharp contrast against his tanned skin, and he had a great many more wrinkles than he’d had when I was a kid, likely a result of living right on the beach, but also from a life well-lived.
To my horror, I felt tears spring to my eyes, but thankfully, nobody was looking at me. Phillip held me tight.
Dee went on. “This is Chad. It’s the most recent picture we have of him, and he’ll likely be wearing an outfit similar to this one. He lives in those polos. He loves his golf.” She smiled, her straight, white teeth—she’d had those fixed and whitened since the last time I’d been down for the holidays—gleaming under the lights. “If anyone has seen my husband or thinks they might know something about his disappearance, please call the Panama City Beach police department on their tip line ASAP and let them know everything you can. They have no leads, and I’m desperate. We’re relying on you to help us find my husband.” Her voice shook a little, and she wiped at her eye again. “Please. If you know anything, call them. Or you can call me directly. I’ll pass out cards with my number.” I blanched; that was way out of protocol and would likely piss off the cops.
Also, she hadn’t really said anything about me. I was a footnote. She’d used Phillip to get her little press conference and then acted like I barely existed. Jealousy and hurt raced through my veins even though I didn’t want to be that small, that pathetic. There were more important things to worry about. But I couldn’t help it.
“I’m going to the room now,” I said to Phillip in a low voice, trying to swallow back my tears. “I can’t be here for this. It’s too much.”
“Let’s get you out of here,” he started, but I’d already shrugged off his arm and made a beeline for the motel, leaving him behind. Behind me, I could hear Lee, of all people, asking the crowd to step back, to give us all some room. I could barely make out his calm, careful voice over the screeching young girls who hadn’t been deterred from their obsession by my stepmom’s weird hijack.
“Please, everyone, Mr. Deville is just trying to get to his room. This is no time for more questions, obviously.” I was impressed by how deftly Lee was handling it, but I didn’t turn around. I had to get away from the throng, all the peering eyes, the fake concern, and Dee’s plea for sympathy, which had no doubt been genuine but still stung. I had to get away from it all, right now; even my own friends, who were huddled together staring at me sadly from Benny’s car, and even from Phillip, who had dumped me right in the thick of a clusterfuck, as he’d said in his own words, at the exact wrong time.