Page 17 of Tangled Up

Ronnie’s reply glows on my screen.Still MIA. Any contact on your end?

I quickly text back.Nothing here. I’ll let you know. Just feeling a little antsy.

Exhaling heavily, I set my phone on the porch banister and take the scrunchie off my wrist. The sea breeze blows around my legs, and I twist my long hair into a high ponytail. Nothing has changed here, but I’ve taken control of my life. I don’t like feeling powerless.

As if reading my mind, I get another text from Ronnie.Hang in there, Carls. This can’t last long.

I tap a briefThanksand slide my phone into my pocket. My mind drifts to Beck, and I wonder what he’s doing right now. Not that I’m going to find out. I’m an optimist, not a masochist.

As long as he’s here, I’ll give him a wide berth. I wanted to reframe being here as a relaxing vacation, time to catch up with family, but now it’s like I’m being pushed face to face with ghosts I buried a long time ago.

Sticking my head in the door, I call to my aunt. “I’m going to walk up to the church and see if Mrs. Thelma’s there. Jessica wants to get dinner tonight. Can I bring you anything?”

“Where you going?”

“I think she said The Salty Brewnette?”

“I can’t eat that spicy food. It activates my reflux.”

“I’ll find you something mild.”

“I’m going to bed early.”

My shoulders drop, and I shake my head. Jessica’s right. My aunt could worry the horns off a goat. “I’ve got my phone if you change your mind. Love you!”

She makes some complaint in response, but I’m out the door, skipping down the steps and out onto the white-sand path. I’ll hook her up at the church, and it’ll boost her disposition. Not that it ever did before, but again, optimist, not masochist.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Jessica is standing on the front porch of the Beachy Waves salon. “I’m about to chew off my own arm.”

“Well, don’t do that. How would you work?” I skip towards the steps, but she meets me at the bottom, guiding me out to the road.

“How will I work if I starve to death?” She’s frowning, and I loop my arm through hers. The food truck is a block away.

“Sounds like somebody’s hangry. Don’t be a grump. I’ve been doing good deeds, and I feel so much better than I did this morning. Did you know Mrs. Thelma’s still working at the church?”

“Of course. I live here, remember?”

“She’s going to send Aunt Viv some patterns for a fundraiser blanket. Then she was showing me pictures of her daughter’s babies. They’re so cute.”

“Speaking of babies, I’ve been doing Ms. Darby’s shampoo and set all afternoon.” My bestie drops her head back and groans. “I need a beer. That old lady is the worst. The water’s too cold. I’m pulling her curlers too tight. The blow drier’s burning her ear…”

Her imitation of the whiney old lady makes me snort a laugh. “You sound just like her.”

“Here.” We scoot up to the window of the truck, and Jess orders quickly. “Hi, Rose, I’ll have a Funky Buddha and a Hammie Sammie.”

The older woman behind the counter punches into the cash register while I’m studying the fun menu. “What should I get?”

“Step over here, you’re holding up the line.” Jessica nods to Rose. “Make that two Funky Buddhas.”

“Oh, no, I can’t drink that sweet beer. Get me an… Elysian Space Dust. That’s a pilsner?”

Rose nods, cracking open another bottle and sliding them across the counter to us. I take mine, and we walk around the corner of the silver truck.

“She didn’t even card us.” I’m leaning into my bestie’s ear, taking a sip of the bitter ale, when I almost choke. “What the fuck…”

I stop dead in my tracks. Directly in front of us, Beck Munroe sits big as Texas at a picnic table with a perky little strawberry blonde. She’s laughing and putting her hand on his forearm as she leans closer to his ear. Her tank top dips dangerously low over her full breasts, and by the look of their draft beers, they’ve been here a while.

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