Beach Town (38 page)

He clenched his jaw. “I don't need her to like me. I'm not her friend. I'm her guardian, and I'm responsible for her safety. You've never had kids, so you wouldn't understand that.”

Greer felt stung. She swallowed and tried to think of another way to get through to this stubborn man.

“You're right, I don't have kids. But I was a teenage girl once, and I still remember how furious I was the one time my mother tried to discipline me. I don't even remember now what the issue was. But I vividly remember sneaking out of the house at two in the morning, with the idea of hitchhiking to my grandmother's house. A fifteen-year-old hitchhiking all the way out to the Valley! A truck driver pulled over to give me a ride. He gave me a beer from a cooler he had on the seat. I thought I was so grown up. Five minutes down the road, I looked over and realized he'd unzipped his pants.…”

Greer's heart pounded, recalling the terror of that long-ago moment. “He slowed down at a red light and I jumped out. I fell on some broken glass, but I didn't even notice. I ran for what seemed like a mile, to an all-night gas station. I called Dearie, and she came and got me and took me right back to Lise. It was a miracle I didn't get raped … or worse. I never told Dearie or my mom what had happened, just that I got scared and chickened out.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better about my niece riding halfway across Florida with a guy who's nothing but trouble?” Eb rubbed his jaw. “God knows if he'll even take her to Starke. They could be shacked up in a motel somewhere.…”

“I've got news for you, Eb. If she wanted to sleep with him, she could do that right here in Cypress Key. He's got that big house on the water.…”

“Jesus, Greer! This is my niece we're talking about here.”

“I know. And I know it's hard for you to hear, but it's the truth. The thing is, I really believe Allie was telling the truth when she said she and Kregg weren't doing anything bad. She doesn't strike me as somebody who lies easily.”

“Up until now, she wasn't,” Eb snapped. “All that changed when you brought this damned movie to town.”

“Tristin says Allie isn't having sex with him. Or anybody else. Apparently she's a ‘super virgin'.”

“She's Allie's best friend. She could be covering up for her.”

Greer shook her head. “I don't think so. Is it really that hard for you to believe the best of your niece?”

“I want to,” Eb said. “But she's changed this summer. We used to be best buddies. She'd go out in the boat fishing with me, or stay up late Saturday nights watching
Star Wars
movies with me. She actually laughed at my jokes. Now? Half the time, I don't know who she is.”

“She probably isn't sure herself,” Greer said. “Weren't you a pain in the ass as a teenager?”

“Major,” Eb said.

“Hate your parents?”

“Sure. Everybody hated their parents.”

“Did you ever smoke weed or drink under age?”

He nodded. “Who didn't?”

“Have sex with your girlfriend?”

He gave her a wary look. “Are you planning on sharing this information with Allie when she gets back here? If she makes it back?”

“I'm just pointing out that the stuff you want to throw her in jail for is normal stuff for kids her age.”

“So, what? I just sit back and hope Kregg brings her back here safely?”

“I happen to know he has a seven o'clock call in the morning,” Greer said. “Kregg's a sleazebag, but he's not going to ditch work.”

Eb clicked the cell phone to disconnect it. “Okay. I'm probably going to regret this. So. No cops.”

“Am I allowed to give you one more piece of advice?” Greer asked.

“Go for it. Doesn't mean I'll take it. I got nothing better to do while I wait to see if Allie makes it back home. With or without her deadbeat dad.”

“That's what I'm talking about,” Greer said. “You heard Tristin. Allie really believes her father was some innocent victim. I think the only way she finds out differently is to be around him. She's a smart girl, Eb. She'll figure it out for herself, without you harping on what a loser he is.”

“No. You don't know Jared like I do. He'll dazzle her with his bullshit, the way he has everybody else. And Ginny's right. Jared's not going to want to hang around Cypress Key. I can't risk letting him take Allie away from here. I'll risk her hating me, but I won't risk letting him ruin that girl's life.”

He threw the truck into gear and drove away.

 

44

Greer kicked off her shoes and sank down onto the bed in her motel room. It was nearly eight o'clock. She was simultaneously sweaty, grubby, hungry, and tired, but she had work to do if she was going to comply with Bryce's orders to move ahead with the demolition of the casino, pending approval of the demo permit.

She grabbed her laptop and began firing off messages: to the fire marshal, the demolition, hauling, and recycling companies, and Frank Norris, the production company's accountant back in L.A., to get authorization for the added expenditures.

Fifteen minutes later her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, hoping Eb was calling to tell her that Allie had arrived home safely. But when she glanced at the caller ID she was disappointed to see that it was only Frank Norris.

“Hi, Frank,” she began.

“Hey, Greer. I got your e-mail, and forwarded it up the line, but we've hit a snag.”

“Oh?” She sat up straight on the bed.

“Twenty-five thousand to blow up a building? That's nuts.”

“I know, Frank. But Bryce is insistent that it has to be the real, authentic big bang.”

Norris let out a prolonged sigh. “I don't think I'm gonna be able to sell this. Bryce hired Jake Newman to do the blast—you know that, right?”

“This is the first I've heard of it,” she admitted.

“Jake is the most expensive special effects guy in the business. We're talking $125,000, plus first-class travel. To light a fuse. Crazy town. And you people are already seriously over budget. I mean, two million over. You didn't hear it from me, but I understand Seelinger is flying out tomorrow. And she ain't bringing champagne and roses.”

Sherrie Seelinger was an executive vice president of the studio. A visit from her was not good news.

“Does Bryce know?” Greer asked.

“Not sure,” Norris said. “But for now I can't authorize the extra twenty-five thousand. No hard feelings, okay?”

“None at all, Frank. Just business, right?”

And then she deliberately tried to temper her optimism. Frank Norris's refusal to let her cut checks for the demolition didn't actually mean it couldn't still happen. And Sherrie Seelinger's drop-in didn't mean Bryce would have to scale back his plans for a big explosion. After all, there was a chance—a very slight chance—that Eb would actually approve the demolition permit for the casino.

She went back to work, staring at the small print on her laptop until her eyes burned and her belly growled. It was almost ten.

Greer stood and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of her tense shoulder muscles. She grabbed a handful of change from a jar she kept on the dresser, and her room key, and headed down the corridor to treat herself to a healthy late-night repast of Diet Coke and overprocessed, Day-Glo orange cheese crackers from the vending machine.

But as she walked toward the machines she noticed the lights were on at Ginny Buckalew's unit. All evening long she'd kept one eye on her phone, hoping to hear about Allie. Eb hadn't called, but maybe Ginny had some news.

She tapped lightly at the motel manager's door. A moment later Ginny stood in the doorway. She had a lit cigarillo in her hand, and a weary expression.

“Sorry to bother you this late, but I was wondering if there's any word about Allie.”

“Come on in and see for yourself,” Ginny said.

*   *   *

The television was on, the volume turned up high. Allie Thibadeaux was perched on the arm of a faded navy blue recliner, holding a PlayStation controller in both hands.

Jared Thibadeaux—or the man Greer assumed was Jared—looked up briefly from his seat in the recliner, then went back to the black controller he held in his hand. He was staring intently at the television, where he and his daughter were playing
Grand Theft Auto.
The cardboard carton for the PlayStation sat on the floor, near the flat-screen television, a sixty-inch HD model that still bore the manufacturer's sticker on the screen.

Greer could see the family resemblance between Eb and his older brother—and Allie, for that matter—especially in profile. The chins and cheekbones were the same, the noses similar. But Jared's eyelids were heavily hooded, and he had a broad, high forehead and receding hairline. His hair was straight, gray-streaked, and thinning across the top, fastened in a narrow braid at the back of his neck. Even while he was seated she could see that he was taller and more powerfully built than his younger brother. His biceps bulged beneath the short sleeves of his dark purple Kregg concert T-shirt, and he wore dark blue jeans and leather flip-flops.

Ginny gestured at her guest. “Greer, this is my nephew Jared. Allie's dad.”

He looked up from the game again and gave Greer a coolly assessing stare. “Hey,” he said.

“Greer is the location manager for the movie,” Ginny added.

“Oh, hey,” Jared said, jumping to his feet. He took her hand in both of his and pumped them vigorously. “That is awesome. So you're the one responsible for the whole movie thing here, right? Very cool. Hey, maybe if you're not too busy, since you're in the business and everything, I could pick your brain a little bit.”

“Maybe,” Greer said, being deliberately noncommittal. “It's nice to meet you.”

Allie pointedly declined to make eye contact.

“Allie!' Ginny said sharply. “Where are your manners?”

The girl shrugged and looked up. “Hey.”

“Hi, Allie,” Greer said. “Glad you made it back home. You had everybody pretty anxious today.”

“Crazy kid,” Jared said, reaching over and ruffling Allie's hair. “I told her she should have let Ginny and Eb know what she was up to. But it's all good now, right, Gin?”

“I suppose,” Ginny said, clamping her lips together.

“Dad!” Allie held her controller up. “Come on.”

“They're too busy playing this stupid game to be polite,” Ginny said, annoyed. “Come on out to the patio and have a beer with me, Greer.”

Jared raised an empty bottle. “How 'bout a refill for me while you're at it, huh, Gin?”

Ginny went into the kitchen and returned, handing her nephew another beer, wordlessly exchanging it for the empty bottle, which she dropped noisily into a recycling bin just inside the patio door. She took two more from the refrigerator and Greer followed her outside.

The older woman sank down into a wrought iron chair and took a long drag on her cigarillo, exhaling slowly.

“I thought you didn't smoke in front of family,” Greer said.

“It was this or slit my throat,” Ginny said. She tapped ash into a plastic cup on the tabletop. “This has been one of the longest days ever. And it's still not over.”

“The good news is that Allie's back in one piece, right? How did that happen?”

“Allie and Jared just showed up here, a couple of hours ago. That horrible Kregg drove up and dumped them off, and the two of them strolled in, acting like nothing had happened. They'd actually stopped at McDonald's, if you can believe it. Jared sat there and ate two Quarter Pounders and two orders of fries and drank three beers. And then they unpacked that stupid PlayStation and the TV. They've hardly spoken to me since they switched it on.”

“That looks like a pretty expensive setup,” Greer remarked.

“A welcome home gift from Kregg,” Ginny said.

“What was Eb's reaction to all of this?”

Ginny shook her head. “I called to let him know as soon as they got here. He still hasn't seen them. He's been out of his mind with worrying all day.”

“I know. I was with him earlier this evening when he intercepted Tristin coming back from soccer camp.”

“He told me. He also told me you talked him out of sending the police after Allie. Thank God.”

“I'm surprised he hasn't been over here to confront Allie. And Jared.”

“He said he was too keyed up to deal with her tonight. I think he was afraid he might say something he'd regret. So maybe that's a good thing. I do happen to know he paid a visit to Kregg tonight.”

“Oh?” Greer raised an eyebrow.

Ginny sighed and took a sip of her beer, then gestured with her bottle toward the patio door. “I'd like to throttle that one.”

“Jared?”

“Who else? He's been here a little over two hours and he's already on my last nerve. He's worked his way through a six-pack and bummed four cigarettes from me. I had to remind him twice that he couldn't smoke in the house. I don't even smoke in there, usually.”

“Is he staying here with you?”

“Good Lord, no. There's an efficiency unit right next to the laundry room that I usually don't rent. I can't subject paying guests to the heat and the noise, so I mostly use it for storage. But I told him, flat out, he can't stay there permanently.”

“How did he take that piece of news?”

“Typical Jared. He's already got some grand scheme cooking. Which does not involve him finding a paying job, naturally.”

“What's his plan?”

Ginny waved her beer in the air. “He and Kregg are going to write a screenplay together and make a movie. About Jared's unjust imprisonment, and some other nonsense. A collaboration, Jared calls it. I can't even listen to his wild-hare schemes. But of course Allie's right there, hanging on his every word. That's what really worries me.”