Page 28 of Callow
That got a smirk out of him as he slapped the bandage on my arm.
“Thought that was the way of it.”
“There’s no way of it. Her kid just keeps ending up here. She keeps picking her up. That’s it.”
“So, if I called in a bunch of club girls tonight to party, you’d take one back to your room?” he asked, then shot me a smirk when I didn’t immediately answer. “Thought so,” he said.
“Don’t invite any girls,” I called to his retreating form. “Fallon doesn’t want any activity around here until we know what’s going on.”
“That leaves me more time to create my slideshow,” Sully said.
“Slideshow for what?”
“Why the club could use, nay,requires, a hot tub.”
“Pretty sure wanting to get drunk with a bunch of topless girls isn’t going to be the argument you think it is.”
“That’s only slide one,” he said, smiling as he walked backward toward the hallway. “There are mental health benefits, injury recovery benefits. The list goes on and on,” he said before disappearing down the hall to his room.
With a sigh, I took myself down to the basement then climbed up the ladder to the glass room on the roof, looking around the grounds, at Navesink Bank as a whole.
It was interesting how life worked. How I went all the way around the globe. Only to end up back where I started.
What can I say? I guess… sometimes you just know someplace is home.
I was about to head back down the ladder when the phone buzzed in my pocket.
I reached for it absentmindedly, figuring it might be Fallon filling everyone in on what he did, or didn’t, find out.
Only to find Sabrina’s name on the screen.
There was a trill of excitement until I reminded myself that she was likely texting about Daphne.
But it wasn’t that.
At least not in writing.
All it was was an invitation.
Meet me at She’s Bean Around Friday at seven?
Fuck yeah, I would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sabrina
“Iced or hot?” Jazzy, the lady at the counter of She’s Bean Around, asked as I finally made it up from the line that had wrapped halfway down the block.
I always felt old on my friend-date night with Britney. The nighttime crowd at this particular coffee place ran young. Not that I blamed them.
The world lacked third spaces for everyone, but especially teens, to hang out outside of home, school, or work. And as a mom and former troublesome teen, I was happy to see the kids hanging out at a coffee place instead of trying on grown-up shoes by smoking, drinking, or screwing around.
“Eh, hot. Surprise me on the flavor,” I said.
“You sure about that? It could get crazy.”
“You’ve never let me down before,” I said, moving over a step to glance in the snack cabinet. “When did you guys start carrying whoopie pies?” I asked.