Page 55 of Juicy Pickle

Wealth from selling his app didn’t change him. And he hikes like he always did. Naked.

Our parents definitely didn’t teach him that.

But this night feels different from when I was a kid.

I’m in charge, for one. I was often the slacker on camp-outs. Dad and Axel were enthusiastic, setting up camp just to suit them.

Mom was the organizer, making sure we had food and cookware and sleeping bags and proper outfits.

My brother Court and I mostly goofed off during these expeditions. Our baby sister Nadia was young in the years I was still going, so she wasn’t much help either.

But Dad and Axel, they were something to behold. Stringing up clotheslines. Bear-proofing. Fishing. Setting up a massive fire pit complete with a cooking rack.

Dad was a Boy Scout leader, of course. He made all of us boys be Scouts.

My skills are rusty, but they are coming in handy.

I don’t know how long oysters need to cook on a fire, but as the water boils away, I figure they must be done. It’s important to have food to ration.

I try not to think grim thoughts about the boat taking too long to get to us. I may have built a fire, but long-term survival is not part of my knowledgebase.

I nudge the bowl out of the ashes with the broom handle. My movement sets off something in Bailey because she shifts on the towel, and her head ends up lying on my thigh.

She murmurs happily and snuggles in.

My pulse leaps. This is a pretty intimate situation. Things would’ve been different if I hadn’t fired her. We wouldn’t have had the altercation on the beach. She probably would have built her castle near the other employees.

I wouldn’t have taken off the wrong way and been so far out.

When everyone got evacuated, we’d have been with them.

And she would have brought Maxwell, I suppose.

Maybe I would’ve met him. Maybe I would have even liked him. Hung out, like I did with Sarah and Caleb.

No. No way.

What’s happening right now, with Bailey sleeping practically in my lap, feels like I’m encroaching on his girl. I need to put some distance between us.

Besides, after all the margaritas during the day, my bladder is screaming.

I slide my hand beneath Bailey’s head, amazed at how silken her hair feels after all it’s been through today. Rainwater as shampoo. No wonder it’s so commonly used in marketing.

I slip out from beneath her and carefully rest her head on the towel. She murmurs again, but she doesn’t wake up.

We haven’t addressed the bathroom situation since the hut was destroyed. Maybe we won’t need to. It’s a big enough island with two people. It’s not like we need to organize latrine spots.

The moonlight is strong enough for me to pick my way across the littered beach, but when I get to the tree line, it’s pitch black. I have to use some of my precious battery power.

Once I figure out where I’m aiming, I flip the light off.

The quiet is almost complete in the trees. I consider what wildlife might be on this island. Birds, probably. I haven’t seen any, not even seagulls. But maybe the local birds stay more deeply in the interior.

Iguanas could be prevalent here. And I assume there will be some sort of insects. The fire should keep those away, I hope.

The sound of my pee hitting leaves seems incredibly loud in the silence. If a man pees on an island and nobody hears him, did he really?—

A snap of twigs startles me. I lift my head, peering into the blackness.

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