Hex Type Thing

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You read my mind.”

  2

  Two

  It turned out the cause of the excitement was none other than Galen. He stood in the middle of the workers, hands on hips, and glared at an older man who was gesturing wildly and relating some extravagant tale.

  “Who is that?” I asked June as she came to a stop next to me, inclining my chin toward the man.

  Her grimace was enough to tell me she wasn’t any fonder of him than Galen appeared to be. “Alastair Herne.”

  That name meant absolutely nothing to me. “I’m going to need a bit more information.”

  She chuckled dryly. “I keep forgetting you’re new to the island. You won’t have known all the Alastair stories. He’s something of a ... well ... twiddle pants. I guess that’s the best term.”

  I still had nothing. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Oh, well, in my day that’s how we referred to men who always adjusted themselves in public.”

  It took me a moment to grasp what she was saying. “Oh, gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “You mean he puts his hands in his pants in public?”

  “Oh, no.” She vehemently shook her head. “He would never be that undignified. Putting your hands inside your pants is frowned upon. He’s comfortable molesting himself over his pants. And he likes to stick his hands in his pockets and move them around quite often, too ... usually when he sees some pretty young thing in a bikini jiggling her rear end as she walks down the beach.”

  That was a bit too much information. “So, you’re basically saying that he’s a pervert.”

  “Oh, he’s so much more than that. Alastair is a member of one of the island’s founding families. He’s rich, to the point of being able to wipe his behind with golden toilet paper, and he has real power on the island.”

  I eyed the man speculatively. Now that I’d learned the term “twiddle pants” I couldn’t get it out of my head. “Does that mean he gets away with molesting young girls or something? Because, if so, I’m going to make him pay no matter how much money he’s worth.”

  June snorted, amusement on full display. “No. He’s never molested young girls to my knowledge. I don’t think he has an eye for the underage ones. He likes them in the eighteen- to twenty-two-year-old range.”

  I didn’t see how that was much better. “Why do you think he’s down here?”

  “He’s heading up the festival,” June replied. “I heard at the grocery store this week that he partnered with some singer to host it.”

  “What singer?”

  “Um ... I think they said her name was Calliope.”

  I was floored. “Calliope? She’s huge. Or she was, like, two years ago. She hasn’t had a hit since then, but she has her own reality television show, so that means she’s still huge.”

  “Oh, is she an opera singer?” June’s face was blank. “I assumed it was some sort of pop sensation. I would be more excited by an opera singer.”

  “I didn’t mean huge as in ... .” I decided not to finish the sentence. There was no graceful way for me to smooth over my answer and I wasn’t keen on sounding like an idiot if I could help it. “I just meant that she’s got, like, three hits in the top one-hundred in the same month and she’s all over television. The young kids love her.”

  June smiled. “You’re not all that old, my dear. I don’t know that you can use the term ‘young kids’ when you can be considered one yourself.”

  “I’m referring to teenagers. I’m more of an Imagine Dragons and Mumford & Sons fan.”

  “Yeah. That’s not real music. Try listening to the Beatles ... or Stevie Nicks.”

  We could agree on Stevie, although getting lost in a conversation about which generation had the better music seemed a waste of time given what was going on around us. “I’m just surprised that Calliope is involved in this. I guess it’s a bigger deal than I realized.”

  “Well, Alastair is a millionaire fifty times over and it sounds like this singer is, too. I’m sure it will be quite the event ... whether nudity is involved or not.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing — thus drawing attention to us, and focused on Galen. He didn’t look to be in awe of Alastair like the rest of the workers. No, he looked annoyed. He was sporting a ten o’clock shadow — as a wolf shifter, he grew hair like Hagrid on steroids — and a scowl that I recognized from the few times (really, they were minor incidents and best left forgotten) we’d gotten into legitimate arguments.

  “I don’t think you’re listening to me,” he barked, hands on narrow hips. “You have people arriving for this stupid thing tomorrow. Are you ready for them? Is the beach set up? Where are the bathrooms? This is a total disaster.”

  I’d never much thought of Galen as the party planner sort but it made me smile to see him getting out his aggression on others. That meant any fight we were destined to engage in was still weeks away. Er, well, hopefully.

  “Oh, calm down,” Alastair drawled. He had that disaffected ennui that television taught me belonged only to the uber-rich. He also had really bad hair plugs. Apparently, money couldn’t buy everything. “We’ve been over this a hundred times in the past two weeks, Galen. I told you that I have everything under control.”

  “Does this look under control to you?” Galen gestured toward the beach. “This doesn’t look under control to me.”

  Honestly, I wasn’t certain what he was so worked up about. The beach looked fine. Of course, I wasn’t the sheriff. Perhaps he knew something I didn’t.

  “You have thousands of people coming to this beach tomorrow,” Galen snapped. “Thousands! There are supposed to be tents. There are supposed to be bathrooms. Do you have any idea what’s going to happen if there aren’t enough bathrooms? Can anybody answer that question for me?” He looked expectantly at the other workers.

  No one answered, so I held up my hand. His eyes were filled with fury when they turned to me, and then they cleared.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, clearly surprised by my presence. I thought for sure he’d watched us approach, but apparently he was too busy yelling at the workers to notice. Perhaps there was an insult buried in there, but I was too amused to pay it much heed.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” June drawled. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard such a warm greeting. I feel tingly all over.”

  His frown only deepened. “I didn’t mean ... I just ... stay right there.” He extended a finger in our direction and then turned back to Alastair. “I want the bathrooms in place tonight or I’ll shut you down. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

  Alastair’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t shut us down. You don’t have the authority.”

  “Oh, no? This gives me all the authority I need.” Galen tapped his badge for emphasis. “If I deem any activity a danger to Moonstone Bay or its residents I have the right to act accordingly.”

  “You can’t shut us down!” Alastair’s hands landed on his hips. “I won’t allow you to threaten us this way. Do you have any idea how much time and money went into this festival? We’re talking my money. Millions of dollars.”

  The figure caused me to glance around again. I was understandably confused. “You spent millions of dollars on what?” I asked.

  “This.” Alastair waved his hands at the beach. “Don’t you understand what this is?”

  “It’s the beach.” My response was perfunctory. “Last time I checked, the beach was here before you even started setting up for your festival. I don’t see anything around here that could’ve cost millions of dollars.”

  “Ha!” Galen jabbed a finger at Alastair. “See! I’m not the only one who has noticed you’ve done nothing. This place is a disaster.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I countered. “I mean ... it’s a beach. It looks like a beach. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

  “Ha!” Alastair mimicked Galen and gave him the finger — not that finger — right back. “There’s not
hing wrong with the beach. You need to calm down. There’s no reason to get worked up.”

  The look Galen shot me was murderous. “Don’t you think you should head back to the hotel?” He asked the question in a pleasant enough voice, but there was a hint of malice to it. “I’m not telling you what to do or anything — and you know I love it when you give your opinion on stuff you don’t understand — but I think you’d be more comfortable at the hotel. I mean ... it’s really hot.”

  I narrowed my eyes. And here I thought we were going to continue our streak of not fighting. I, apparently, was an idiot. “What don’t I understand?”

  “You understand everything fine, dear,” Alastair responded before Galen could. “Galen is the one who seems to have bricks in his head. Do you know how I know that? I can hear nothing but the dull thud of idiocy coming out of his mouth.”

  Okay, he really was a twiddle pants. Even though I was annoyed with Galen’s response to my well-thought-out opinion, I didn’t like this guy’s condescending attitude one bit. “Where are your festival guests going to go to the bathroom?” I asked, keeping my face impassive even though I wanted to sneer at him. “It won’t be sanitary if they go on the beach.”

  “Thank you!” Galen threw his hands in the air. “I’m glad to see you were listening. I wasn’t sure.”

  I pinned him with a dark look. “Keep it up. You’re going to snap our no-fighting streak if you’re not careful.”

  This time the look he shot me was devilish. “Yes, but then we can make up. We haven’t made up in weeks. We’re due.”

  He had a point. Wait ... what were we talking about again? Oh, right. Bodily functions. There was little more that I liked talking about more than urination and defecation. “I think the other tourists will be turned off if their kids discover buried ... um, treasure of a different sort ... while building sandcastles two weeks from now.”

  Alastair’s expression was so dark I had to take an inadvertent step back. Mayhem etched across his features and he took on a decidedly foreboding countenance that caused my heart to skip a beat.

  “Young lady, I’m curious what you have to do with this discussion,” he started, his tone chilly. “I think you should listen to our esteemed sheriff and mind your own business.”

  “Hey!” Galen’s agitation was on full display as he took a step toward Alastair. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “You just did.”

  “Yeah, well ... that’s neither here nor there.” He shot me an apologetic look. “I’m serious. I’ll shut this festival down tonight if the bathroom situation isn’t fixed to my satisfaction. That’s all there is to it.”

  “And if you try, I’ll go to the Downtown Development Authority and tell them how you plan to cut off a huge source of revenue for the island. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled about that.”

  I internally cringed at the threat. The Downtown Development Authority had something of a badass reputation. They were the real power on the island and everybody, including Galen, was terrified of them. Oh, he put on a good show when he was certain they were out of earshot, but it was clear that he was as leery of the nearly invisible board as everyone else. So far, I’d met only one member of the board — Morgan St. Pierre — and he was the exact opposite of pleasant.

  “You’ll want to be very careful about threatening me,” Galen warned, his voice low. “I mean ... very careful.”

  “And you’ll want to be very careful about threatening me,” Alastair fired back. “I’m not going to sit back and let you ruin this festival. If you think that, then ... well ... I guess we’ll have to take it to the higher authorities.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I sucked in a breath, debated if I should try to pull Galen away from the confrontation, and then lost my train of thought when a blonde beauty cut across the beach in our direction. Calliope. The singer who had only one name, like Cher ... and Madonna ... and Enya. What? I have eclectic taste in music. Sue me.

  “What’s going on?” she called out, a friendly smile on her face. She wore a pair of the tiniest shorts I’d ever seen, the sort that allowed her butt cheeks to hang out the backside but in kind of a fashionable way. She had on a neon bra under a fishnet top, and she wore so much makeup I was convinced I would be able to run my fingernail down her cheek and leave a trail.

  “Oh, Calliope, you’re here.” Alastair sent Galen another warning look before hurrying forward to greet the singer. “I can’t tell you how great it is to see you.”

  I moved up to Galen’s side and watched along with him as the odd duo bent their heads together in whispered conversation. It was obvious Calliope was trying to get to the bottom of the argument. Alastair, of course, would be putting his spin on the story. Galen would know that, yet he didn’t look bothered in the least by the new wrinkle.

  “Did you miss me today?” I asked brightly, hoping to coax a smile out of him.

  The look he shot me was bland, but I swear I saw his lips quirk. “Should I have missed you? I’ve seen you twice since we rolled out of bed.”

  “I know but ... we spent the entire weekend in bed. We didn’t even go out for drinks. We had food delivered. I thought you might miss spending that level of quality time with me.”

  This time he couldn’t hide his smile. “If you play your cards right, we can do the same thing this weekend.”

  “Not if you’re dealing with mountains of poop on the beach.”

  He scowled. “This was an absolutely terrible idea. I can’t believe the DDA approved it. I mean ... I just can’t.”

  “It sounds to me like they care more about dollar signs than anything else. Besides, they won’t have to deal with the fallout. You will.”

  “That’s right.” His eyes were heavy-lidded when they locked with mine. “I plan to threaten Alastair two more times and then my shift is over. How do you feel about scallops and beer on the beach?”

  “I think I could live with that. Although ... I thought you threatened to shut them down if they didn’t have the toilet issue taken care of by the end of the night. How will you know if they follow through if you’re with me?”

  “I figured we would take your golf cart and then drive it down the beach on the way back. I’ll be able to check then.”

  “Ah. Good thinking.” I tapped the side of my head for emphasis. “You’re more than just a pretty face.”

  He snorted and shook his head, his eyes traveling to Calliope as the woman plastered what could only be described as the sexiest smile known to man on her face and sauntered over.

  “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” she purred, extending her hand in dainty fashion. “I’m Calliope. That’s one word ... and no last name.”

  If she expected Galen to be impressed, she was about to be disappointed.

  “I’m Galen Blackwood,” he supplied. “That’s two words, one of which is a last name, and I don’t care who you are. You’re partially to blame for this fiasco. You have three hours to get the bathroom situation sorted out or I will shut you down.”

  “Oh, don’t be a gloomy Gus.” She ran her finger down his arm, causing my temper to flare. She might’ve been a big star, but she was trying to poach my man. “You need to relax. You’re wound too tight. I know, how about we head down the beach and have a few drinks at that delightful little tiki bar?” The atmosphere sparked with more flirt than humidity. “I bet that would loosen up both of us.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her exactly where she could stick her invitation, but Galen was ahead of me.

  “You’re welcome to go wherever you want and have as many drinks as you want,” he said, taking a step back so she could no longer touch him. “I don’t really care what you do. What I care about is that the bathroom situation is solved.

  “Now, I’m going to have dinner with my girlfriend,” he continued, his head tilting toward me. “We’re going to spend some time eating, drinking and then frolicking on the beach.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Since when d
o we frolic?”

  He ignored the question. “When I come back this way in three hours, if the bathroom situation isn’t handled I’m going to shut you down. Plain and simple.”

  “Try it!” Alastair barked. “If you try to shut us down, I’ll shut you down.”

  “You can try.” Galen was matter-of-fact as he linked his fingers with mine. “You have three hours.” He glanced around dubiously. “You’d better start working.”

  3

  Three

  Our favorite beachfront restaurant had oysters on special. Galen ordered them as an appetizer to accompany our daiquiris and mozzarella sticks. He looked relaxed as he sat at a patio table with me, but I knew him better than most and recognized the stress lining his handsome features.

  “You’re trying not to talk about it,” I noted. The oysters hadn’t yet arrived and I was nervous to admit I’d never tried them. I decided to put that off and focus on his problems rather than my own for a change. “It might make you feel better to vent.”

  “I don’t want to vent. I want to enjoy my time with you.” He rested his hand on top of mine and stared out at the ocean. “What did you do with June today? I didn’t realize you two had plans.”

  As much as he loved June — and it was honest and true adoration with him — I could tell he was leery regarding the amount of time we’d been spending together. She knew all of his secrets, and she wasn’t afraid to tell old stories that made him and Booker look ridiculous. That’s only one of the reasons I loved hanging out with her.

  “I needed someone to complain to and Lilac was busy at the bar getting ready for this festival — she expects to be completely packed for the next few days — and May was out visiting Wesley. I don’t have many friends.”

  “Good. That means you can dedicate all your time to me.” His grin was wolfish as he squeezed my hand. “What was bothering you that you needed someone to talk to?”