“Don’t worry. My attendance is mandatory,” I told him. “Spawn of Satan, remember?”
He changed his tune when he saw how anxious I was. “It won’t be that bad.”
“Says you.”
“I’ll get you out of there if you need me to.”
“How?”
“Who knows? Shoplifting. Choking. I’ll tell Mom I have to drop a deuce.”
We both laughed.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said.
He raised his novel and said, “Me either. Now go, so you can come back.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The trip to the beach took all of five minutes and an eternity. People were out enjoying their weekend. Joggers and walkers and bikers with bells. Military hard-asses and women in spandex. Old people in golf carts.
I tucked my chin and sped up, remembering Fletcher’s insight into my paranoia about being in public.
“Sadie, the whole world doesn’t get up in the morning just to watch you,” he’d said. “They have songs on their iPods, worries at work, relationships that suck, kids to feed. Most of them don’t have time to consider your scars.”
I’d argued that might be true for people his age—I’d stuck that knife in deep—but my friends were visual. We were a tattooed generation of Instagrammers. Hell, we invented the selfie.
His answer: I wish you would take a selfie.
My return: Maybe I will.
I would not be taking a selfie today.
In an hour, the beach would be full of more eyeballs. Thankfully, Gray was alone, setting up chairs and umbrellas.
I toed off my flip-flops and left them on the wooden walkway, watching Gray carry a load of twelve chairs in a box formation. This job suited him—it required someone strong enough to lift and charming enough to get the tips. The stretch between the Worthy Wayfarer and Blue Waters had been Gray’s territory since he was old enough to work.
Sweat dripped down his back as he set the chairs in place and came back for another load. He was fast and efficient, unaware of anything but his job. I waited to walk down until he started setting umbrellas. He drilled a hole in the sand with a bit longer than my leg, dropped in the umbrella, and popped it open against the wind. Gray was about to add the rubber band that kept it closed to the others around his wrist when I automatically stuck out my arm.
He slid the rubber band over my hand.
“I certainly didn’t think I’d see you today,” he said.
I shrugged and played it cool.
He set down the drill and tugged on my shirt. “Wish you’d go back to short sleeves,” he said.
I stared at the sun until I saw spots. “I’m used to it.”
“You want to make yourself useful?”
I didn’t, and I did. I’d promised Max this would be a quick visit, but probing Gray for information too quickly would be a mistake. Staying would make him more amiable.
I nodded.
We tag-teamed the beach the way we’d done in the past, him carrying chairs to locations, me setting them up. Him opening umbrellas, me wearing the rubber bands. We finished before the first families brought down their coolers and wagons of beach crap. Gray dusted off two chairs for us, put his clipboard on his lap, and grabbed water bottles and lotion from his backpack. “You need sunscreen?” he asked.
I did. The rays were terrible, and I’d already been out too long without SPF. Add that to yesterday’s burn, and I was on my way to lobsterdom. “Bring on the vitamin D.”
“That’s right,” he said happily.
I accepted the lotion and noticed how he still wouldn’t meet my eyes. That didn’t keep him from flirting, though.
His smirk lit his face. “You need some help with that lotion?”
I wasn’t about to let him rub down Idaho or Tennessee or any of my other scars. Shoving him away with a laugh, I said, “I got it.”
“See, don’t you like the way that works?” He slid his chair closer to mine.
“What?”