Page 103 of Summer People
Maggie gasps. “Holy heck. He gave the world his cell phone number.”
Yep. Day seven is officially taken care of. Now Brad will be sorting through millions of texts and phone calls. He’ll have to change his number. Too bad he lost all his contacts and has no way to inform the people he wants to communicate with.
Under Libby’s scrutiny, I cross my arms over my chest and blink.
“That man must have earned himself some bad karma.” Maggie shakes her head. “It’s been one thing after another for him. The news reported that first responders keep having to go out to his place because his alarm has been malfunctioning. And then his Tesla shorted out in the middle of Rodeo Drive.”
Day five. I couldn’t plan where it would happen, but I set the virus that would kill the computer system of his beloved car to kick in after five miles. Now it’s just a pretty brick.
“And that video of him freaking out on the alarm people? The alarm that no one can seem to fix,” Maggie adds.
Day six.
“And now he’s doxing himself?” The way Libby’s tone gets higher says she doesn’t believe it.
This isn’t even half of what this asshole deserves, but at least it’s something.
I turn away to hide the smirk threatening to overtake me. Though I pull up short when I catch sight of my best friend. He’s lying on my sofa, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. “Wilder?”
“Don’t mind me. I’m hiding.” He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.
“You should be, looking like you do,” Maggie teases, coming up behind me. “You really need to trim that thing on your face.”
“I did. Yesterday.” He sits up and straightens his T-shirt. Today’s readsBattery Life 1% Help me. He glares at us. “I’m being stalked and not a single one of my friends cares.”
“Because you could fix the problem easily if you’d just tell her it’s over and ask her to leave you alone.” The man isn’t a child. This is beyond ridiculous.
Wilder flops back on the sofa. “I can’t be mean.”
“Just annoying,” I mutter.
“Hey, Sutton,” he calls. “Cover your ears, sweet pea.”
With a giggle, she cups her hands over her ears.
Libby places her hands over them for good measure. “Okay,” she calls.
With a sneer, Wilder sticks both his middle fingers up at me.
I scoff.
“Wilder!” Libby chides as she slides her hands to our girl’s eyes.
“Shit.” He drops his hands. “Sorry. I meant eyes. Cover your eyes,” he mutters. “See? I’m losing my mind.”
“It’s not the first time,” Sutton giggles.
Libby glares at my best friend.
Wilder chuckles. “You’re not helping my case, sweet pea.”
“I know what you can do.” My little girl scoots around the counter, heading for the sofa. “It would be the best thing ever.”
“You name it.”
She plops down next to him on the tweed sofa and looks up at him from under her lashes. Whatever this is, he’s going to agree. He’s a sucker when Sutton and Lindsey break out the puppy dog eyes. “Convince Fisher that we can do the Monhegan Goodbye today.”
Head tipped back, I groan.
