BREE
The little community in Bodega Bay is more varied than I expected. I don’t know why my brain assumed Benny and I would be the only young people in a sea of septuagenarians, but I was wrong. His friend Peter was the one who invited me to the Triple B’s Clean the Beach Day, after all.
We enjoy burgers and a plethora of potluck sides at long plastic tables on metal chairs, surrounded by people of all demographics and ages.
Music plays through a speaker in the corner, shuffling through basic pop hits.
Peter joined us for a few minutes before he returned to the grill, and it didn’t take long for me to realize the reason he was making so much food was because a large portion of the late-joiners were people in the community who needed a meal.
It’s been fairly easy to get Rose to talk about herself, her friends, this town, Benny—I particularly enjoyed hearing about the time he brought moldy muffins to their board meeting and has spent every meeting since trying to make up for it—but she does eventually swing the conversation back in my direction.
“Ben mentioned you have a concussion? That’s terrible.” Rose slurps at her green tea and brushes her curly hair over her shoulder. “How did that happen?”
Shoot. We never came up with a solid reason, did we? I search my brain for something believable. Anything can cause a concussion if you hit your head hard enough, right?
“It was a few weeks ago,” I start, trying to buy myself time, but Rose blinks at me expectantly. “Because…of…my dog.”
She rears back, disturbed.
“She’s tiny,” I say, to defend my poor, innocent Peanut. “I didn’t see her, and I tripped. Hit my head.”
It’s happened before, so it’s not a total lie. The tripping—not the hitting my head part.
“You tripped?”
“Off my brother’s deck…” Into the ocean?
Unrealistic. A tree? No. I need to stop adding details.
I’m not a good liar, but I know the more details I add, the more cause I give for suspicion.
At least she can’t see how shifty my eyes are right now.
I give her a blinding smile and push the sunglasses up my nose.
“So the shades keep the headaches away.”
That’s not a lie. Being swarmed by fans wanting selfies and autographs and hugs has given me headaches on many occasions.
“But enough about me!” I look around, waiting for Benny to jump back in. “How long have you known Benny’s grandma?”
“Almost forty years now. She’s had a rough go of it, but so have I.” The end of the orange scarf tied around her gray curls falls over her cheek, and she flicks her head to shift it out of her face. “We’ve been there for each other.”
Benny slides onto the seat beside me with another plate of food. He hands me a brownie covered in weird light brown icing, sitting on a napkin. “Trust me.”
I glance at him. It looks like something that was left out too long and crusted over.
Is this how I die? Food poisoning from a questionable dessert?
That doesn’t track. Benny is one of the good guys.
His ocean blue eyes are doing that thing where they pierce my soul and make me want to reveal all my secrets. Snap out of it, Bree.
Can you blame me for being a little neurotic, though? This thing doesn’t look edible.
I take a tiny bite. Chocolate and peanut butter explode in my mouth, like a Reese’s brownie, but even better. I go back for a larger bite.
“I knew you’d love it.” He’s smug, diving into his second burger.
He remembers how much I love chocolate and peanut butter together. It gives me a warm glowy feeling. Benny pulls Rose into conversation about their upcoming board meeting and whether they should invite the town to it in an open format.
A man with a long, low ponytail and blue Elton John glasses joins in, sliding over to sit nearer Rose. “The public has too many opinions. Too many cooks in the kitchen.”
“They also have valuable insight, Dan,” Rose argues. “And more resources. If they’re involved in the planning, the event has the potential to be even larger.”
Curiosity burns, but I don’t want to interrupt.
Rose and Dan enter into the politest argument I’ve ever heard, so I lean closer to Benny, inhaling his cologne. It’s different from what he used when we were teens, thick and warm and manly. I love the smell. Benny glances over at me, like he caught me sniffing.
“What event?” I ask before he can call me out.
“A concert, actually,” he whispers. The twinkle in his eye feels like a secret passing between old friends.
My stomach flips thinking about Benny and music.
Does he still play? Still sing? He continues, heedless of my runaway thoughts.
“A few local bands are going to play and all proceeds will go toward beach upkeep. It’s been in the works for a bit. ”
Then the penny drops. There’s going to be a concert here. Where people will flock. Possibly even people I know from the industry. “When is it?”
“Not until next month.” He seems to read my anxiety, his bright blue eyes boring through my glasses. “You’ll be gone by then,” he whispers.
Why doesn’t that give me the relief it should? I can’t hold his gaze. The brownie becomes my focus, making sure each tiny morsel is enjoyed. I chase it down with icy water from a paper cup and immediately wish I had more to drink to keep myself busy.
Gone. By the time he has music people around, I won’t be here anymore. The sudden vision of Benny continuing with a life that appears full leaves me strangely empty.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, leaning in again. I get another whiff of his cologne.
“Of course.” I smile to prove my point. “I’m going to get more water.”
He doesn’t stop me, so I walk the perimeter of the room toward the drinks table and fill my cup from a tall orange cooler.
The back door opens, letting in a whoosh of wind, and the metal door slams into the wall right as I go to take a drink.
In my surprise, my cup tips over my chin and pours down the front of my sweatshirt.
I squeal, jumping back, and knock into the table, where the water cooler is perched, watching in slow time as the entire thing crashes to the linoleum floor.
The lid pops off the cooler and ice water spreads out in every direction, running over my toes.
Yep, doesn’t feel much different from the actual ocean here.
The entire room goes silent, and every pair of eyes shifts to me. At least it’s water. Embarrassing, but not destructive.
Peter walks through the open back door, steaming burgers stacked on the metal tray in his arms.
“Wait!” I call, as his foot hits the puddle.
He looks at me, but he’s not fast enough, and his foot slides.
Everything happens so quickly after this, but I feel like I’m watching things spin out of control in achingly slow motion.
Peter’s tray flies from his arms as he goes down on the hard linoleum floor.
Burgers bounce out of the tray, arcing through the air before they land on the floor, pelting Peter in the face and chest and hitting the people sitting at the table right behind him.
One even rolls down the table and falls flat in between two men, who stare at it.
Oh. My. Gosh.
“I’m so sorry!” I crouch to my knees, picking hot, sodden burgers from the puddle of cold water and stacking them in the tray. Ick.
“Here,” Benny says behind me, tossing a towel to the floor and another to Peter. He has a whole stack of them, presumably from the kitchen.
So much wasted food. My cheeks are hot. My neck is probably mottled with a splotchy blush, like it likes to do. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this mortified.
We pick up all the burgers and toss them in the metal pan while Benny corrects the table and cooler.
Another woman around our age has started picking up the paper cups.
Like one would expect from a group meeting in the community center, members of the group step up and help clean the mess in a fraction of the time it would have taken me on my own.
Peter’s back is soaked through, his T-shirt clinging to his shoulder blades.
“I’m really sorry,” I say again when he tosses the wet burgers into the large trash can.
He shoots me a smile. “It happens.”
“Let me pay for all those burgers, at least.” I reach for my purse but remember I only have a credit card in my phone case and four dollars. I can’t Venmo this guy or he’ll know who I am. “I don’t have enough cash on me, but I’ll get it to you later.”
“It was an accident, Anne. Don’t worry about it.” He’s breezy about it, but I’m feeling the opposite. When he rubs his lower back absently, I feel even worse.
This community doesn’t need me coming in and wasting so much expensive meat.
I will be making a donation, but I won’t push it now, because he’s trying to be polite and ease my intense discomfort.
Judging by the sheer amount of people who came in here today needing a hot meal, the board could put my money to good use.
As soon as I make contact with my team again, I’m having them send over a huge anonymous donation.
But not until I leave town, of course. I don’t want to reveal myself too soon.
“The real shame is that we haven’t had more than five minutes to hang out today.” Peter flashes a smile, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “You could make it up to me by coming with Ben to the dinner next Friday.”
I can sense Benny tensing behind me. “What dinner?” I ask.
Peter pulls his shirt off, wringing the water from it onto a pile of towels.
The man works out and has zero shame, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the tattoos trailing up his bicep and climbing over his chest. His confidence would be attractive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable and still fighting mortification.
Besides, I get the sense Peter flirts with anyone whose chromosomes lack a Y.
I take a step back, bumping into Benny’s arm.
“Just a bonfire thing,” Peter says, shrugging.
“For his birthday,” Benny finishes. “We’re smoking pork.”
I shift, looking into Benny’s face. “You’ll definitely be there?”