A few hours later, Spencer stood on the dock next to the Finger Lickin’ Ice Cream Shop and the jewelry store whose front window featured glittering Rolexes and sleek Cartier bangles. A huge crane extended over the bay, and a big banner that said LONGBOAT KEY BUNGEE JUMP had been stretched between lampposts, surrounded by red, white, and blue bunting.
Just like the pre–New Year’s party, the bungee jump was an annual tradition—her family always came and shook their heads at the people crazy enough to plummet over the bay with only a piece of rope saving them from instant death. This year, Spencer was old enough to bungee without getting her parents’ permission, and that was exactly what she’d planned to do. It seemed like the kind of thing Colin would be into, and since Melissa would be spending the whole day in the hair salon to de-blue herself, it meant Spencer could finally get some alone time with him. She hoped.
She looked around at the crowds of college kids, twenty-something adrenaline junkies, and men suffering from midlife crises lining up to jump. In fifth grade, the last time her family and Ali’s had both visited Longboat Key over the winter holidays, Ali’s brother, Jason, had waited eagerly in line, clutching the release form he’d had signed from his parents. Ali and her cabal of friends had stood near him, teasingly asking if he was nervous, if he worried about getting whiplash, or if he’d ever heard the rumor that bungee jumping sometimes made guys’ testicles explode. Spencer had snickered at that last jibe, and Ali had spun around and given her a nasty look.
Spencer continued to scan the line. Sure enough, Colin was waiting at the front. She felt a little flutter inside her gut at the sight of him. He was tapping on his phone, his brow furrowed.
Spencer took a deep breath and walked over. “Everything okay?”
Colin looked up. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I was just texting Melissa. She told me she’d meet me here, but I haven’t heard from her. Do you know where she is?”
“She told you she was going to meet you here?” Spencer made a face. “This isn’t her kind of thing at all. She’s at the salon, getting her hair done. She’ll probably be there all day.”
Colin slipped his phone back into his pocket, a strange look crossing his face. “The salon? Seriously? She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.”
“No?” Spencer leaned against one of the wooden posts and watched as a tiny speck of a person plunged from the bungee crane. The crowd applauded. “She’s a salon addict. She gets her arms waxed, highlights, a monthly facial, and then there’s nails, Reiki treatments, the tanning booth . . . she’s super high-maintenance.”
“Huh.” Colin ran his hand over his chin and looked at Spencer.
A long beat passed. Colin didn’t look away until the crane started to groan and the elevator winch slowly pulled the next jumper into the sky. Colin glanced at his phone again. “So was what you said at the beach yesterday true? Does Melissa really have a felon for a boyfriend?”
Spencer opened her mouth, ready to tell the whole story about Ian, but something suddenly made her change her mind. Talking about Ian without Melissa here to defend herself seemed a little crass, even for her. It wasn’t like Melissa had known he’d killed Ali, after all. She hadn’t even known they’d been together.
“Colin?”
Melissa was sauntering down the dock, her hair now a brilliant shade of honey blond. When she saw Spencer, her eyes flashed, but she swept right past her, wrapped her arms around Colin, and gave him a big kiss. “Sorry I’m late.”
Colin picked up a strand of Melissa’s new hair and let it fall. “Spencer said you were at the salon.”
“Oh, just for a little touch-up,” Melissa trilled. She clasped Colin’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss your big jump!”
“My big jump?” Colin’s smile was a question mark. “Aren’t you jumping, too?”
Melissa blinked hard. Her gaze flicked from the crane to the bungee jumper dangling over the bay. “Um . . .”
“C’mon, you made it just in time.” Colin gestured around them, indicating that they were next in line. “You can jump before me. You’ll love it—I promise.”
One of the bungee workers, a skinny guy with braided hair, looked at the people in line. “Okay, folks. Who’s next?”
Melissa’s face had gone sheet-white. “Colin, I don’t think I can do it,” she said in the same damsel-in-distress voice she’d used during the great jellyfish rescue yesterday.
Colin scoffed. “You’re being silly. It’s really fun—and totally safe. You should live a little.”
“Uh, who’s going up?” Braided Hair asked impatiently, jingling the chain on his wallet.