Page 53 of Tourist Trap

I scan the columns of money in and out, noting the salaries, beach badge income, and the cost of the lifeguard program, as well as the projected fundraising from the upcoming events, before finally I point to the block party.

“Can we add something here? A contest or some activities that cost something? We can also look into getting some of the local businesses to fundraise, give out flyers, and a certain percentage of sales would go to the department that day.”

Helen looks at me like my relatively basic ideas are new and exciting.

“That’s…that’s a great idea. We used to do more at the events, but with everyone spread too thin…”

I shrug.

“I could take it over.” She gives me a wary look, then shakes her head, but I speak before she can. “No charge, I’ll do it off the clock. I love planning things. My mom is a PTA president, a class mom, the whole nine. It’s almost in my blood at this point. We could do some stations of crafts at the block party and contests with entry fees. We could raise this money easily.”

“You think?” she asks, tipping her head like she sees me in a new light.

“In a town like this? Where half of the people are tourists already primed to spend money? Hell yeah. Honestly, you guys should be amping up this time of year, honing in to bleed the tourists dry to pay for the people who make this place what it is.”

She smiles at me, leaning back with her arms crossed on her chest.

“You know, you’re good for this place,” she says, and I smile, suddenly self-conscious.

“I’ve had a lot of jobs. They all end up building on one another. Some people see it as a bad thing, the job hopping, but I see it as skill building. That way, when I have a friend who needs to know how to perfectly wrap a gift or someone who can choreograph an eight-year-old’s dance recital, or someone like you who wants some fundraising advice, I’ve got you.”

She tips her head, reading me in a way Ido not like.

“Have you considered working in recreation? Or fundraising? That’s basically the skill set that’s needed: a jack of all trades.”

I shake my head with a laugh. “God, no. Much too structured for me.”

“I don’t know about that,” she says, tipping her head toward her disaster of a desk with a laugh.

I shrug, suddenly feeling like I’m under a microscope when I very much do not want to be, something she must read on me.

“Sorry, sorry, not trying to be a nudge. Go on your break.” I smile and nod. “But later, maybe we can talk about some things. Like I said, you’re good here.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say noncommittally, then head out the door.

“Hey, Claire, right?” a voice asks as I close the door behind me, and my entire body stills, hand still on the doorknob.

In the window, Helen gives me a curious look. “Do you need help?” she mouths, but I give her a slight shake of my head and a roll of my eyes. It’s not uncommon for beachgoers to try and come to this building for something, though they don’t typically know my name.

“Hey, yeah, I’m Claire,” I say, slightly uncomfortable but trying to play it cool. “Do you need something?”

“I’m Brad. And you’re actually just the person I was hoping to see.”

I tilt my head to the side, confused, but then I notice he’s in another white polo, but this time, it has the logo for Surf on it. It’s tucked into a pair of khakis, and he’s wearing dress shoes despite the fact that there’s sand grinding beneath his feet. In contrast, I’m in an oversized lifeguard sweatshirt and shorts, my flip-flops slipped into my bag.

Somehow, I just know the guy is a tool, and he looks the part, too.

“How can I help you?” I ask with a tight smile, eyes moving to the boardwalk to keep a lookout for Miles.

“I need to hire some lifeguards.” My jaw goes tight. “The older ones, above legal age.” My brow furrows, and I fight an actual grimace moving across my face.

“Excuse me? This is a township recreation department,” I say. I want to addnot an escort service, but considering I’m technically on the clock, I resist the urge.

He lets out a fake laugh, and it grates against me in a way I hate more than anything.

“Of course, I know that, Claire.” I don’t like the way he says my name, like he’s holding the knowledge of it over my head. “You see, I’m hosting a beach games tournament, and we were told we need to hire township lifeguards and EMS to get the proper permitting. I just thought it would be nice for the participants and guests to have some kind of…eye candy, you know?”

I fight a gag at the way he gives me a once-over.

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