“Resentment is a poison.”
“Too true.” Crouching briefly, Perry picks up a flat, smooth rock. Weighing it in his hand, he whips it toward the lake. It skips across the water twice before sinking beneath the surface.
“Have you talked to him? Explained why running the business is so important to you?”
“I’ve tried, but that would require him listening for once.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“It’s not your fault. It’s just one of those things.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
His eyebrows quirk. “Not unless you know the number for the best family therapist in Ohio. Or a quick way to make twenty thousand bucks.”
“Is that how much you owe in taxes?”
“More or less.”
“Hmmm.” I squint at the horizon. “You could sell a kidney. I hear the going rate on the black market these days is pret-ty good.”
“Yes! Why didn’t I think of that? Who needs two kidneys anyway? I could totally sell one.”
“There you go. Your golden ticket.”
Perry’s rich laughter is infectious, and I join in.
“You’re a gem, you know that? Devin’s lucky you dreamed of him.” The sun catches his profile, illuminating his tanned skin and the auburn streaks in his birch-brown hair. Warmth spreads through me like an ink drop in water.
My phone dings from inside my bag. Blinking, I pull it out and read the text that pops up. It’s from Brie.
Cass, where are you? Devin said you went to the bathroom. Did you fall in? DO YOU NEED ME TO RESCUE YOU???
Sorry, I ran into Perry and we started talking. Back in a jiff!
Ohhhh that explains it then Well hurry up and get back here. The fireworks are starting soon!
Is Devin with you now?
He was, but he took off a few minutes ago to look for you.
I return my phone to my bag and squint at the darkening sky. Brilliant orange crowns the horizon where the sun is sinking into the waves, and deep blue is spreading out from the sunset’s golden edges like a cloak. “Devin’s looking for me. Are you sticking around for the fireworks?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. That’s the one good thing about this party. The city of Cleveland sets off the fireworks right there—” He points over my shoulder to a low building about a hundred yards down the shore with the words Port of Cleveland painted in giant green letters across the roof, a fire truck peeking out behind it. “There isn’t a better vantage point in the entire city.”
“Let’s go then.” I begin trudging over the uneven ground, but Perry’s not behind me. I stop.
“You go ahead. I think it’s best if I stay here,” he says.
“Nonsense. You can’t watch fireworks alone. It’s the law.”
“Oh really?” He chuckles.
“Oh yes. Ohio Revised Code, section 375, subparagraph D, clause twenty-nine.” Sticking my finger in the air, I clear my throat. “No person shall witness, observe, or engage in any public display of fireworks, unless in the presence of at least one other person, of any age, at a distance of no greater than ten feet.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Smart move. I’m a lawyer. Arguing’s kind of my thing.” I wink.
“I thought painting was your thing?”
“Only on nights and weekends.” I grin. “And hey, we can avoid your dad if that’s what you’re worried about. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
“It’s like you can read my mind.” Perry cocks his head as he studies me. “Okay, you win. Give me a minute to run to my car—I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my new favorite painting.” He taps the canvas against his chest. “Then we can find Devin.”
My gut scrunches as I return his smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
Finding our way back through the party is considerably more difficult than I anticipated. By the time Perry stashes my painting in his car and we hike back from the concrete plant, full dark has settled in. More people have arrived in the last hour—there’s at least two hundred people milling around in the moonlight—and the mood has turned downright bacchanalian.
Searching for Devin, we pass half a dozen middle-aged women dancing drunkenly along to music from a Bluetooth speaker, and a pair of twentysomethings engaged in a chugging contest with a crowd cheering them on. Empty beer cans, plastic forks, and napkins litter the trampled grass. Someone must have brought an industrial-sized box of glow-in-the-dark accessories, too, because neon necklaces and glow sticks dot the night like Technicolor fireflies.