Page 32 of Nerdplay
“Nice game,” I say. “Do I get to put your picture up next time?”
“Good luck finding one.”
“Everybody has at least one public photo online. You’d have to be either a spy or a ghost to avoid it.”
She collects the axes. “I fall more into the ghost category.”
I’m unclear how to interpret that. I walk to the target and rip down my picture. “You’ll need to try harder if you think a stunt like this will be enough to make me leave.”
She bares her teeth. “Consider the gauntlet thrown.”
My gaze drifts to the shredded picture. Pretty sure it already was.
We part ways and I bypass the firepit to get an early night. Garbled singing drifts to my ears as I slip inside my cabin. I have no idea what song it’s meant to be, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. I wonder whether Courtney joined them after the barn.
Her commitment to the camp is admirable. I didn’t know people could even have such strong emotions about their livelihoods. Jobs were the means to an end. An income. A status symbol. Her passion for this camp is next level. It makes me feel … envious.
I fold down the sheet and climb into bed in my boxer briefs. It’s much too hot for a sheet or anything else. I have to hunt down a smoking gun before I sweat to death.
An image of her knowing eyes flashes in my mind. She’s made it clear she’s suspicious of me and who can blame her? She’s right. I’m the enemy to every single camper here.
Who cares if they have to find a new gathering place next year? It isn’t the worst outcome in the world. It might even be good for some of them to break out of their protective shells. They probably don’t interact with other humans the other fifty weeks of the year. Time to mix things up.
I clasp my hands behind my head and exhale.
Fuck me. I do care. I wish I was more like Matt, who would’ve dug up whatever intel he needed to seal the deal and screeched away in his Cybertruck by now.
I stare at the wood-beamed ceiling, thinking. Maybe there’s no intel to be found. Maybe even if someone as ruthless as Matt were here, he’d be unable to unearth a single item to be used as leverage. I could spend the rest of camp holed up in her office reviewing documents and not find a shred of evidence to help my client.
In that case, I might as well enjoy myself a little while I keep my eyes and ears open, right? It’s such a rare opportunity to shed my suit and soak up the sun while the mosquitoes soak up my blood. I’ll have to ask to borrow bug spray. I didn’t show up as prepared as I thought.
Not for any of this, and definitely not for Courtney Abernathy.
Chapter Five
I skip sunrise yoga this morning. In my defense, there’s a distinct absence of an actual sunrise. Instead, there’s a light mist and thick fog that roll off the lake. Although it’s atmospheric, it isn’t what I’d call a mood lifter. It’s perfect for the zombie apocalypse later though. It’s always nice when Mother Nature cooperates with the activities schedule.
It rained overnight, which means the grass will be too wet and slippery for a couple of the planned activities, so I make sure to modify the schedule before the first block begins. As I pass the arts and crafts cabin, I notice a light on and make a quick detour. There’s nothing on the schedule this early.
I open the door, not sure what to expect. Esther and Wendy, our two oldest campers, are seated side by side at the table with a basket between them. Crochet materials are spread across the surface. The moment I enter, they both drop their hands below the table… Well, a couple beats later because their reaction time isn’t what it used to be.
“Good morning, ladies. What are we working on so early?”
“There’s no amigurumi on the schedule today,” Esther explains. “We thought we’d work on a project before the figurine painting starts.”
“What are you making?”
The older women exchange looks. Slowly, they raise their hands to show me.
“I can’t tell what they are.”
“That’s because it’s been a while since you’ve seen one,” Esther says, promoting a snicker from Wendy.
I approach the table for a closer look. “Is that a … plushie penis?”
Esther holds up the craft for closer inspection. “It’s my new side hustle. I’ve been crafting penises and other naughty products for my Etsy store. Bridal parties go nuts for them.”
I examine the plushie. For a penis, it’s kind of cute. “You’re using crochet stitches.”
