Sharks? Me in a skintight wet suit? Both comparable threats.
“No, thanks. I’m not a big water person.”
“Yet you live in California?”
“Anyway…” I take a long sip from my hot coffee. Why I’m drinking hot coffee in the eighty-degree weather, I don’t know. It’s a thing of mine. To me, coffee was meant to be brewed and served hot. I would sip on a piping hot latte in the flames of hell. “You enjoy your trip, just make sure your content manager stays on top of consistent posting. Mason and I will handle the web traffic and make sure we’re staying on top of the search results competition. But right now, social is what’s really going to continue to drive sales—brand presence. So don’t let your social guy slack, okay? You can always call me if you need a helping hand while you guys are traveling.”
“You’re amazing, Avery. You’re due for a raise—”
“You pay us plenty.”
“Thank you. I feel like I can go into this summer worry-free. You’ve handled everything. Well, almost…” He trails off. I wait for a moment as it’s obvious he’s texting. When he doesn’t continue, I jump back in.
“Is there something else I can help you with, Dex?”
“Sorry,” he mutters distractedly. He sounds far away like he pulled the phone away from his ear. “Another one bites the dust.” He grumbles in agitation. Giving me his full attention again, he says, “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who doesn’t already have summer plans and needs a job, would you?”
“Do you need another assistant for the scuba tours?” It’s not my typical job, but I’m happy to research anything for Dex. He’s such a good client and always in a good mood. I’m sure it has something to do with his family money and wanting for nothing. While he desperately needed help with his business, he works because he likes to, not because he has to. “We could do a listing for a summer assistant job, but you’d probably have to include travel expenses and meals for perks.”
He laughs. “Oh no, I have enough hands on deck for the tours and enough mouths to feed. I need a pet sitter for the summer.”
“You have a pet?” That’s odd. Dex travels so much. His life mission is to explore every inch of every sea and ocean in the world. He’s going to be brain-dead by the time he’s fifty from all the time he spends breathing from an oxygen tank and living in the pressurized depths of the world below.
“Sort of. More of a house sitter,” he explains. “I have a guy who maintains my aquariums, but I need someone there to feed some of my saltwater fish daily. They are somewhat high-maintenance. Auto feeders are good for maybe a week or two, but not the whole summer. This is the longest I’ll be away from home and I can’t risk losing my fish, nor do I want to get slapped with all these HOA fines.”
“You travel all the time. Who normally feeds your fish?”
“Employees from the dive shop. Or, my next-door neighbor is always willing to lend a hand. But that’s for a couple of days here and there. Maintaining tropical saltwater fish and tanks is way more involved than just feeding them and I can’t take over his entire summer. Not to mention there was that one time he poisoned my Damselfish with Fruit Loops. I question his ability to handle this.”
I balk. “Your neighbor tried to kill your fish?”
“Not on purpose. He couldn’t find more fish food and didn’t want them to go hungry.”
I snicker to myself as I perk up in my seat, tasting my reckless words before they fall out of my mouth. “Just for the summer?” Just enough time for me to figure out my next steps.
“Yeah. I’ve asked around, but so far, the only people who are interested are wild-ass college students on break who just want a free house to host orgies after getting shit-faced on the Strip.”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll stay at your place for the summer, feed your fish, and make sure everything you need gets done. I most definitely don’t do orgies, and after three years of working together, let’s hope you already know you can trust me.”
“Are you serious? How much would you charge?”
“Free.” You’re doing me a favor.
“You’re kidding. Mason would be okay with moving for the summer?”
I grumble as I take another sip of my white chocolate mocha. “Okay, one cost. It’d just be me and you can’t ask me why or about Mason. Deal?”
“Deal.” I can tell by his tone he has questions, but as instructed, he sidesteps his concern. “Okay, well, great! Damn, Avery, you’re really saving my ass here. I’ll text you all the details. I have a really nice place. I swear you’ll love it. I’ll have it professionally cleaned and I’ll clear out my drawers and stuff so you can take over the master bedroom if you want. And the Las Vegas Strip is only like fifteen minutes from my place when you feel like going out.”
I glance down at my baggy white T-shirt. Highly unlikely. I want to use Dex’s place as a hideout while I collect my thoughts. Out requires talking to people. In is what I’m aiming for. “When do you need me?”
“The sooner the better, actually. If I had your help, I might be able to squeeze in a dive to Cancun for just me and my girlfriend before the summer craziness starts. How soon is too soon? Do you need to get things sorted with work first?”
I can work from anywhere. Las Vegas is a five-hour drive from the outskirts of L.A. I’d need exactly eight hours—one to sneak into my apartment and collect a few things, one to get my oil changed at the Oil Express up the road, one hour to explain myself to Palmer, then five for the drive. But I’m not trying to come off that desperate. I stare at the ring still wedged onto my left finger. In a fit of excitement, or maybe rage, I finally rip it off my finger, which seems to have shrunk the tenth of an inch necessary to relieve me of this diamond burden.
“How’s next Thursday? Gives you time to show me the ropes and take off before the weekend?”
“Perfect,” Dex says. “I’ll make the arrangements. Avery, thank you. You’re my lifesaver in all things now.”
No, no, Dex…
Thank you.
4
Finn
Sweat is dripping down my face. I do my best to mop it up with the back of my hand as I jog the last few meters to my driveway. But after a few more strides, the sweat mixed with my sunblock moves down my forehead and seeps into my eyes. I stop in my tracks in front of Dex’s driveway as I try to blink away the burn. If I were wearing a shirt, I’d try to soak up my stinging tears, but it’s Las Vegas in May. It’s already scorching, so I’m running shirtless.
Hooonk!
The sound of a glaring horn causes me to jump in place.
Whipping my head to the right, I notice the gray Jeep Cherokee on the street with a blinker on, trying to turn into the driveway I’m standing in front of. The woman in the driver’s seat is a brunette with her hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. The woman in the passenger seat is a platinum blonde whose sunglasses are so big they take up the majority of her face. Most notably, though, neither of these women is Dex’s girlfriend, Leah.