Page 66 of As the Rain Falls
Well.
Hate the guy, not his party tickets, I guess.
Nonalcoholic cocktails infamously don’t sell well at Silvio’s. Every waiter has to work twice as hard to trick tourists into buying them, which usually only works after they’re already tipsy enough.
“No, man. I’m beat.” I shake my head. “Go with your new friends, I don’t care about parties.”
“New friends? What? Are you jealous?” He paddles closer, trying to climb over my board. “Party pooper, let me kiss your balding head. You know damn well you’re my one and only.”
“I am not balding! Dude, you’re gonna flip us—”
I screech with pain as he brings me into a hug. There’s a sly grin in his face, and I jump backwards instinctively, forgetting that’s exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. Too late.
“Careful!”
I close my eyes as the board tips, making me land hard on the water. Antony follows right behind me, falling too, and dragging me under.
The last thing I hear before the waves swallow us whole is his stupid, loud cackling.
WHAT MY INTUITION SAYS
Beckett
OCTOBER, 2016
Cassandra steps outside tothrow away the trash. It’s late and the streets are empty, but I’m circling her house because Lucia’s dog needs his nightly walk. The opportunity screams perfections.
Gregory: Why is the dog still here?
Me: Don’t worry about it.
I’m taking care of it right now.
Gregory: Okay.
Our paths cross right as I’m reaching the sidewalk, and Pepé gets so excited about finally seeing another human being other than my father and me that I have to pull his leash to force him to stand back. Unable to pounce on my neighbor, he starts barking and rolling around like he’s just won the lottery.
“Pepé!” Cassandra drops to her feet, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She opens her arms, and the golden retriever immediately jumps on her, showering her face with slobbery, wet kisses. “You’re the fluffiest dog I’ve ever seen!”
I brush my fingers against his fur.
“She just called you fat, dude.”
“Ohmygod!” Cassandra gasps, making a sad sound. Her green eyes rise to meet mine, amusement showing in her gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
Pepé lets out an exaggerated whimper, acting like a victim. The golden retriever actually goes as far as flopping onto the grass just to really stress over how sad he feels.Typical drama king.
“Look at his sad face,” my neighbor pouts while glaring at me.
“Okay. NowI’mthe bad guy?”
“Yes.”
I chuckle, “And people claim dogs aren’t all that smart. Pepé’s a master at manipulation.”
“How could you say that to him?”she whines.
“Heisfat.” I shrug, pretending not to care about hurting his feelings.
