Page 106 of Cuts like a Knife
“They seem like really nice people. And it’s not like you’re an investigative journalist or whatever. Who really cares? You can just let them slide.”
“Why? Because I’m not important enough? Not good enough to break this story?”
“No, because this isn’t a story. It doesn’t matter. They’re not hurting anyone. Hot Slice is completely idiotic.”
“Don’t let your clients hear you say that,” I say.
“I won’t, but what about you? Citidaze readers aren’t exactly discerning, are they? Is some smear piece about a former child star and her secret Canadian husband even what they want to read about? I thought they were in it for the happy, fluffy stuff.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I guess I don’t. This seems like a complete non-issue to me. Danny said on the walk over that you could do a How They Met about them later. Write that. I’ve read that column. It’s cute. It’s what your readers want.”
“It’s trash. It’s not important!”
“What’s important? Like what defines important? Outing them and getting them sued isn’t important, is it?”
“You think you’re so much better than me,” I say.
“No I don’t. Where is this even coming from?”
“Nowhere. We need to head back.”
A rogue wave crashes beside us and water rushes up around our ankles. In the sand, I catch sight of something and bend down to look.
It’s a sand dollar, but it’s not white like the ones I’ve seen before. It’s a sort of taupe.
“Oh cool. A sand dollar,” Drew says, reaching down to pick it up. “I’ve never seen one alive before. Look, it’s moving it’s little arms. Legs. I don’t know what they’re called, actually.”
The sand dollar is covered with tiny little hairs, and all of them are waving.
“They’re called cilia. They’re feet. They’re how it moves. You should put it back in the water so it doesn’t die.”
Drew places the little creature back on the sand, a little ways into the water, where the waves pull it quickly back out through the surf.
“How’d you know that?”
I shrug.
“Not as stupid as I look,” I guess, I say, before turning back. In the distance, I can see Maylee and Danny making their toward us at the same time.
“Lex! I never said that!”
I don’t bother responding. Drew doesn’t get it. He never has.
Chapter Twenty Eight
It becomes obvious that Maylee hasn’t shared our conversation with Danny because as we hike back to the dock to meet JP, he is as effusive and ebullient as ever, while she is subdued. She gives me a tight smile when I catch her eye, but nothing more.
As we leave the magical beach behind, the air grows still and hot.
The tide has receded, and wading back across the little river of seawater is easier this time, with the water only reaching the middle of my waist, instead of my chin, at its deepest.
When we round the cove, we’re met with a beach scene that is distinctly different from the one we passed earlier in the day.
The Chat ‘N’ Chill is open and hopping, with a raucous volleyball game in full swing on the sand, music wafting from the open air bar, and a small crowd clearly gathered to feed the stingrays in the shallow waters of the sheltered beach.
“Hey, mates. Over here!” We spot JP at the bar and make our way over.
