Chapter 1
JUNE
Everything’s fuzzy at the moment, but yet I’m moving so fast when I close my eyes again. That stinks.
It smells like sulfur, I said. No one answered.
“Fuck I said it in my head again.”
Okay I’m sure that one worked, even though it was probably better left unsaid. I was very aware of my mouth moving.
There was a delay in response and I peeked around the front seat to see that Pearl had long been passed out, as I was moments earlier. With Pearl swimming through whatever dreamland twenty-two year-old virgins have, the mystery was solved. Perry, my loving stepbrother, was stationed in the driver’s seat and driving our high asses to our new home for the summer. I tried to convince him to let one of us drive part of the way, but he declined my first offer and I didn’t bother to ask again. So there we sat, apparently still giving each other the silent treatment.
I had begged my mother to not send my stepbrother and I to the same summer vacation spot, but it fell on willfully deaf ears. Donna and Mark were having extensive remodels on the house done and two extra tickets to their forty day Transatlantic wine cruise was deemed too expensive to waste on mediocre children.
“Can’t we at least stay in different BNBs? Mom I swear… I’ll get a summer job to pay for it if I have to and-”
“And work where exactly? You know as well as I do that no respectable job will hire someone with a blank resume four years out of highschool.” Her lips were pursed in an unnatural kind of way. Fifteen years of lip injections will do that to you, I suppose. I pulled my eyes up to meet her rigid tar-soaked eyes.
But I was silent.
“Honey,” her voice softened but her eyes did not, “you know as well as I do that until you marry the Maxwell boy,” oh, here we go, “our financial support of you will continue.”
“Thank you, mother.” here it comes…
“However,” there it is! “We spend enough on you as it is and now we’re forking over an obscene amount of money on an all expense paid summer vacation to the beach and I’m the bad guy?” If looks could kill I’d have died a thousand times before the age of five. “Need I remind you of everything we pay for? All of your living expenses, for example? Or how about-”
“Can I at least bring Pearl? She’s in town for the summer and we haven’t gotten to see as much of her ever since-” Donna waved a manicured hand inches from my face.
“Fine.” She spat, and had begun to walk away, “but there are only two bedrooms and I’m not paying for a third,” she threw over her shoulder as she entered her bedroom, clicking the door closed behind her.
I may have to suffer Perry, but at least she won’t be there.
For a moment I wondered if I should feel bad for having such a thought. But only for a moment.
Looking out the window now, it felt like the rental car had slowed down considerably. This town was too rural, too much like south Georgia, to be the “cutest coastal town,” where our “two bedroom two bath modern fantasies bed and breakfast,” with “private beachfront access” was. There must have been an accident or roadwork ahead. Surely we’re taking a detour.
On the left we passed a charming little brick shop with nearly blacked out windows and an orange neon sign that proudly displayed, “Sex on the Beach, Open 24/7.” Neon palm trees and pot leaves dimly flashed through the windows. On the right, a dense wall of kudzu smothered the fenceline. I checked the time.
5:37 PM
“Hey Perry,” I croaked, then cleared my throat awkwardly.
Man, I’m thirsty.
“Hm?” he grunted, visibly stiffening. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
“How far away are we?” I fumbled my hand around in the tan quilted beach bag at my feet until I found my bottle of raspberry sparkling water.
He sighed. “You have to piss again?”
I cracked the seal on my water and let the hisss of the carbonation fade before answering. “That depends. How far away are we?” I took a drink.
“Fifteen minutes, think you’ll survive?” he said flatly.
Fifteen minutes? This “coastal town” must be smaller than I thought if we haven’t seen any true “town” yet… or “coast.”
Dazed, I checked my phone. No service, but my last incoming texts from before waking were from Mother.
3:29 PM
Junebug, we’re finishing loading now. Give us a call ASAP. We need to get you the check-in information for the B&B.
4:15 PM
Check-in is over. We won’t have service long after we undock. Waiting for your call.
5:02 PM
Call me NOW.
5:07 PM
Losing service. Lockbox code is 4355. Cleaning and laundry services come Tuesdays at 1. Have a good summer, we’ll have service again next Wednesday in Iceland. Ciao!
P.s. Send Perry my love <3
I rolled my eyes and threw my phone in the bag, returning to the window. It was then that I got my first glance at the beaches of Dolphin Coast. A seagull dove into the blue-green field of sea that met with the darkening coast line. The public beach access was nothing like the beaches of Tampa or Miami, the beaches that I had grown up on every summer in years past. Instead of freshly powdered white sand, stretching for miles and butted up against the finest hotels, Dolphin Coast’s beaches were small, butted up against cracked concrete walkways with concrete tables and shelters.
It was overcast and it had begun to drizzle, but the few people at the beach did not seem to mind. A mother held her young son’s hand as they waded into the murky water together, kicking up a cloud of gray sand around them as they did. I looked away.
The seeds of disappointment had already sprouted in my mind. At least I knew that our BNB had private beach access, so we could avoid the locals while we were there and make regular treks to Panama City whenever we got the urge to party. It was only an hour, according to her mother. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I checked the time.
6:50
“Hey Pearl,” I reached gently around the seat in front of me and shook her shoulder, “Pearly, we’re almost there.”
“Hmm?” She hummed sleepily, readjusting slightly.
“We’re almo-”
Perry hit a pothole on the left and the car lurched. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt so I slid to the left side of the car, knocking my head on the driver’s side window.
“What the fuck, Perry!” I screeched, clutching the side of my head.
“It’s not my fault you weren’t wearing a seatbelt,” he snapped back, not bothering to ask if I was okay. I mean. I was. I really didn’t hit my head very hard, but it’s still polite to ask. Pearl was awake now, and her bloodshot brown eyes were looking back at me, amused.
Throughout the years, I ranted and raved about the many injustices that came from being Perry’s stepsister, but to little avail with Pearl. She was too nice, too forgiving, too wise to be a good bouncing board for shit talking. I loathed her for it on occasion, and now more so than ever. She thought I took myself too seriously, was too complacent in my mother’s grand plan for me, too focused on the little injustices and not focused enough on what it would take to break the cycle.
Quite frankly, I’d outgrown wanting to “break the cycle.” My life with Dean Maxwell would be a pleasant one, and I would want for nothing. He was six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and an even broader checking account if you catch my drift. It had not occurred to me to mind that until he graduated law school, that money was coming from Mr. Maxwell’s labors, not Dean’s. He was handsome and kind, kind enough to even thaw the cold dead heart that my mother carried around. Blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous.
Growing up together in River Crest, a wealthy gated community about forty-five minutes north of Savannah, Georgia, I always had a crush on him. From the age of thirteen, he towered over the other boys at the country club dinners and parties. He was confident, hilarious, and destined for success, being of a long line of high-profile lawyers. I quickly singled him out as the object of my affections, and he singled me out as a tolerable companion. We spent much of our younger teen years attached at the hip, attending events, golfing, and frequenting the community’s indoor pools and private gardens together. Years of my life were dedicated to pining after him, urged on nearly nightly by my mother.
In high school, he joined our private school’s football team and was the star quarterback by the end of the season our Sophomore year. I was happy for him, he was my best friend. I would visit him after school at practice, bringing goodie bags for all of the players and getting to know his friends, just because I knew he would pull me into a big teddy bear hug after and give me a kiss on the top of my head. And then I would smile up at him, and he’d smile down at me, his eyes dancing with joy. He seemed happiest when he was there, and I liked his teammates, Michael in particular.
I fiddled with my engagement ring, lost in thought, as we pulled into the driveway of 1255 Bud Ln.
