Chapter 27
Parrish stood at the edge of the crowd, already feeling like an outsider. She recognized most of the partygoers as her coworkers, and the members of the steel drum band. KJ took her by the hand, dragged her closer to the fire, and handed her a Solo cup of the punch. She downed it quickly, hoping it would numb her sense of awkwardness, and it went down so smoothly, she drank a second cup, finally feeling a comforting buzz.
She spotted Garrett on the other side of the crowd. He was smoking a joint, and had his arm around the waist of the petite singer from the band. Their eyes met, and he whispered something in the girl’s ear. She pouted for a moment, then kissed him passionately on the lips.
He moved lazily toward her, and Parrish thought briefly of commandeering a golf cart to make an escape. Even though they lived under the same roof, they hadn’t exchanged a single word since that night at Pour Willy’s. He’d been so very drunk—did he even remember what he’d told her about the liquor thefts?
“Hey,” he said casually when he reached her side. He looked her up and down approvingly. “Nice dress.”
“Thanks.”
“All you girls and your aunt in matching dresses? How cute.”
Such an asshole. “What do you want, Garrett?”
He took a drag on the joint and handed it to her. Was this a dare? She took a hit and let the smoke slowly swirl through her nostrils before handing it back.
“Okay, sorry. That was mean. Let’s start over. You really do look pretty tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” She gulped down some punch, and then some more, waiting.
“Did you, uh, say anything, to anyone, after, uh, the other night?”
“What? You think I ran right back to my aunt to tattle about your little side hustle?”
His face flushed. “It’s not my side hustle. I told you that. And you still haven’t answered my question. I need to know if I’m in some kind of trouble.”
Parrish took the joint back, finished it, and coolly flicked ash down the front of his half-unbuttoned shirt, giggling at the spectacle of Garrett trying to brush away the burning ash.
“Do you think you’re the only one running an operation at my family’s hotel? I’ve got news for you, you’re not. I’ve been watching, and taking notes. And it’s all up here.” She tapped her forehead and gave him a loopy grin. “And in my little blue book.”
“Geezus, what an amateur. You are stoned out of your mind after two hits.”
“Drunk too,” she agreed, draining her drink and handing him the Solo cup. “Get me another, m’kay?”
“Get it yourself, bitch,” he said. “I’m officially off duty.”
Okay, so maybe she was stoned. And drunk. It had been a minute since she’d smoked any weed. And that punch? Lethal. She joined the rest of the crowd standing around the fire, swaying to the music. Someone handed her a lit joint. She didn’t really want it, but she smoked half, then dropped it to the ground and carefully stubbed it out with the heel of her sandal.
Bored, she made her way over to one of the golf carts, which had been set up as a makeshift buffet cart, with the foil trays of leftover shrimp and barbecue laid out on the seats.
Parrish peeled a shrimp and popped it in her mouth, surprised by how peppery it was. She grabbed a can of beer from an open cooler and sipped, mostly to wash away the spice.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. There’d been no time to eat earlier. She ate some chips and guacamole, and was munching on a brownie when one of the band members sidled up to her.
“Hi, pretty,” he said. “You having a good time?” He had a slight, lilting accent. Jamaican, maybe?
He plucked a joint from the pocket of his shirt, lit it, and handed it to her.
She took a hit, and then another and another, hoping to mask her shyness around him.
“Having a great time. I like your music.”
“And I like your dress. Do you work at the hotel?”
“Yeahhhh,” she said, realizing she was slurring the word. “What’s your name again?”
“Cedric. Don’t you remember me? Let me get you another drink. Be right back.”
Five minutes later he returned with another cup of punch. She’d finished the joint, and drank the punch, this time sipping more slowly. People were milling around, laughing and talking. Cedric was saying something she couldn’t quite understand.
The inside of her mouth felt funny, like wet wool, and she was suddenly unbearably hot. And dizzy. And she needed to pee. “Could you excuse me for a moment, please?”
She walked unsteadily away, toward the Shack. “Need to pee,” she muttered. Was there still a commode in the shed? She couldn’t remember. When she got to the door, she heard voices from inside.
Ohmygod, I will wet my pants,she thought. She leaned against the doorjamb for a second, then staggered to the rear of the Shack. There was a thick clump of palmettos a few yards away. She could roll down her panties, tinkle, and nobody would be the wiser.
Just a few more steps, Parrish told herself. But the landscape tilted and spun crazily, then began to slide and fuzz, like a carnival funhouse. She tried to hurry, but now everything was in slow motion. Were there footsteps behind her? Thrashing through the underbrush? She sank down to her knees, aware of the thick, cool mud. Then she lay down and closed her eyes, willing the spinning to stop.
“Parrish?” A soft hand stroked her forehead, brushing back her bangs. She was eight, and had taken a bad fall on her Rollerblades. Her granny smiled down at her. “Come on, now, honey. We’ve got to take you to the doctor to see about that arm of yours.”
“Granny?” Parrish reached out a hand, then felt it drop woodenly to her side, as her grandmother’s face melted into nothingness.