Page 108 of Cuts like a Knife
Claire: Just tell me what’s going on. Let me live vicariously through you.
Lex: It’s boring here too. We did go to a really nice beach today, though. And I touched a stingray.
Claire: Jealous!
Lex: Didn’t a stingray kill that Naturalist guy?
Lex: From Australia?
Claire: Steve Irwin? Yes, but why? I’m sure they’re not the same kind of stingrays!
Lex: No reason.
Claire: Who are you with? Who’d you go to the beach with? Petar Timber?
Lex: What? Why would you think that?
Claire: I don’t know. You were asking about him the other night. You’re with the cast, right?
Lex: Not really. It’s sort oof a day off. I’m not important enough to be with any of the actual stars today.
I look up and scan the space. JP and Danny are still being idiots. Maylee and Drew are chatting quietly. And Petar Timber is playing volleyball.
Wait, what?
I peer out into the sunshine and I’m right. It’s Pete. Playing volleyball316.
He hops around in the sun, and gestures animatedly at one of the men on his side of the net as they play. Weird. I look around at the assemblage a little more closely. Are other people from the show here?
I don’t see anyone. It seems like everyone here is a regular person. Rich, maybe, but not famous. Then, in the darkness inside the deeper part of the restaurant, I catch sight of Charles Atlas. He’s on the other side of the bar, in the gloom, chatting with the barman. As my eye catches his, Atlas gives me a little wink and touches the side of his nose with one finger317.
“Hey,” I say to Maylee in quiet voice. “There’s another reporter here. Charles Atlas from Sentinel. And Petar Timber is out there playing volleyball as well.”
“What? Where?” Maylee’s face goes pale as she looks around.
“We should go,” Drew says.
She nods, corrals her husband and his friend, and we’re soon back on JPs little white boat, speeding our way back across the water to Georgetown.
We part ways, awkwardly, at Government Dock.
“Thanks so much for today, guys,” Drew says. “It was amazing. Really unexpected and fun.”
“No problem, brother. It was nice to do something with regular people instead of those reality show freaks. Helped break up the week,” Danny replies, giving Drew one of those strange secret handshake fist bump things that men seem to instinctively know how to do. “We’ll be seeing you later on the boat, I guess,” Danny adds to me.
I nod. I’ll be there. Tonight’s shoot is a glorified booze cruise, but it’s on a luxury yacht. I’m not going to miss it.
“Thanks, Maylee,” I say. “Both of you, really. Today was fun.”
“Stupid,” says Maylee, with a slightly sad smile. “But yes, fun. See you later tonight. I hope … well, you already know what I hope.”
I nod and am soon following Drew to the road where he finds a cab to take us back to the cottage.
We ride in silence, and once we’re back, I busy myself getting ready for the night. The event is still hours away, but I don’t want to be around Drew any more than I have to.
“Do you want to talk at all?” He asks me as I step out of the little bathroom, wrapped in a towel.
“Nope,” I say, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door in his face.
