Before You: Sex on the Beach Page 5

  “I’m not really big on horror.” Romantic comedy is more my speed. That and costume dramas. Although I know about the Chucky movies. Who doesn’t?

  “Chucky is based on Robert the Doll,” Ty said. “Apparently he curses people who don’t ask nicely enough if they can take his picture.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. There’s a wall in the museum full of letters people have written, apologizing for being rude and asking Robert to remove the curse.”

  “Wow.”

  Ty nodded. “He moves around, too. Or so they say.”

  We walked a few paces in silence.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” I asked.

  He glanced at me. “I believe in evil.”

  I guess I did too, if it came down to it. It was hard to be my father’s daughter and feel differently. If you accept that there’s good, you have to accept that there’s evil. Can’t have one without the other.

  However, that wasn’t the problem here.

  “But that’s different,” I said. “That’s people. People can be evil. And people can do evil.” Like whoever had raped that poor girl this morning. “But objects aren’t evil. They’re just objects.”

  Knives and guns weren’t evil. They could be used to do evil things, but by themselves there was nothing evil about them. And even something like a voodoo doll wasn’t evil in and of itself. People who believed in that sort of thing stuck pins in the doll to harm the person the doll was supposed to represent, but the doll itself wasn’t evil.

  Ty shrugged. “Some people think Eugene Otto was so mean he turned the doll evil. He blamed everything that went wrong on the doll. And some people say the old Bahamian woman who made the doll cursed it.”

  “I don’t believe in curses,” I said.

  Ty glanced at me, and then he grinned. “I don’t either. But just the same, maybe you should be especially nice to Robert if you go on the ghost tour tomorrow. There’s enough evil in Key West this week without inviting more.”

  There was, at that.

  I promised I’d be extra careful, and extra nice to Robert the Doll if I saw him, and we left the cemetery and continued on our way toward the hotel.

  TY STOPPED outside the hotel door as usual. “Here we are. Safe and sound.”

  Yes, indeed. I glanced over my shoulder into the lighted lobby, where people were walking around, and decided against inviting him up to my room. I knew what he’d say, after all.

  “Thanks for the tour,” I told him instead.

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “If you change your mind about going sightseeing tomorrow, you know where to find me.”

  He nodded.

  “Although I won’t hold my breath.”

  There was a pause. “It isn’t that I don’t wanna spend time with you, you know.”

  Could have fooled me, I thought. “Sure,” I said.

  He drove his hand into his hair and closed his fist. It looked like it hurt. “I like you, Cassie, OK? I’d like to spend time with you. I just... can’t.”

  He actually sounded like he meant it.

  So...

  “Girlfriend?” I asked.

  He looked torn. But eventually he nodded. “Yeah.”

  I nodded too, even as disappointment curled into my stomach and settled there. “That’s OK.”

  Except it wasn’t, of course. I didn’t want him to have a girlfriend. The knowledge that he had a girlfriend made me sad. And the fact that he liked me, but couldn’t do anything about it because he had a girlfriend, made me mad.

  And what kind of girlfriend lets her boyfriend go to Key West on spring break on his own, anyway?

  Not a very good one.

  Or perhaps one who trusted her boyfriend to do the right thing, even when she wasn’t around.

  Anyway, I’m not the kind of girl who tries to steal another girl’s boyfriend. So I simply told him, “Goodnight, Ty,” and turned away.

  And he told me “Goodnight, Cassie,” and went off down the street.

  And that was that. I went inside and up to bed. Alone.

  I WOKE up early again the next morning, but I didn’t walk on the beach. For one thing, I didn’t want to risk finding another naked girl.

  Not that it was likely I would, I suppose, although you can’t be too careful.

  But for another thing, I had breakfast plans with Mackenzie and Quinn.

  When Mackenzie set up the rules for this trip, she had decreed that we were to see as little as possible of each other, so we could have the freedom to get properly laid. But she had built in this one meeting about halfway through the week, for us to dish and update each other on what we’d accomplished.

  I was the first one to the dining room, not surprisingly. The others had found guys, and presumably guys who kept them busy at night. While the guy I’d found, walked me to my door at ten o’clock and left without so much as a kiss.

  Because he had a girlfriend at home.

  After Ty left last night, I’d lain awake for a while thinking about that.

  I had fallen—might as well admit that—for a guy who was someone else’s boyfriend.

  A guy who was still choosing to spend time with me. He could leave me entirely alone. He probably should, especially since he’d admitted to ‘liking’ me. But he didn’t. He sought me out instead. He was the one who’d picked me up in the bar that first night, and instead of letting me leave Captain Crow’s alone yesterday, he’d come after me. He’d teased me, and held my hand, and showed me the cemetery, and told me he believed in evil.

  That was some pretty personal stuff. In some ways, maybe even more personal than exchanging bodily fluids in bed. Or at least personal in a different way.

  “That don’t look like the face of someone who’s just spent the night having wild monkey sex,” Mackenzie’s voice drawled, and I dragged myself back to reality as she scooted into the booth across from me, that damn sunhat still covering most of her face.

  I grimaced. “You got that right.”

  “What happened?” She looked around for the waiter, probably to ask for some Southern iced tea. “The guy I saw the other night didn’t look like he was the type to waste time.”

  “You wouldn’t think so.” Not to look at him. He’d certainly picked me up easily enough.

  Mackenzie looked at me, arching her brows, and I added, reluctantly, “He has a girlfriend.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes. Unfortunately.”

  “Damn, girl.” She shook her head. “You sure can pick ‘em.”

  “I didn’t pick him,” I muttered. “He picked me.”

  She tilted her head. The hat tilted too.

  “Would you mind taking that damn thing off?” I added, annoyed. “I like to see your face when I talk to you.”

  “Funny, that’s what Austin said, too.” She took the hat off and shook her hair out.

  “Austin’s the guy you were with at the pool yesterday? The guy from the bar the other night?”

  She nodded. “Never mind about Austin. Why’d this guy pick you up if he already has a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Obviously not for sex. Not if you’re not getting any.”

  I shook my head. “He says he likes me.”

  “Of course he does.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what your problem is, Cassie? You’re too damn nice. Guys all like you, and want to protect you, and things like that. But they don’t wanna nail you to the wall and bang your brains out, do they?”

  No, they didn’t.

  “If he has a girlfriend,” I said, “I wouldn’t want him to do that anyway.”

  We sat in silence a moment.

  “It’s only Tuesday,” Mackenzie said. “You still have time to find someone else.”

  “I don’t want anyone else,” I muttered.

  Mackenzie sighed. “No, of course you don’t. This was supposed to be fun and games for spring break, Cassie. You weren�
�t supposed to fall in love with anyone.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” I said, and watched as Quinn turned into the dining room and stood for a second, looking around, before coming across the floor toward us.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Sure about what?” Quinn asked, stopping beside the table. I scooted aside to make room for her, since Mackenzie was sharing her half of the booth with the wagon-wheel sunhat.

  She rolled her eyes. “Cassie’s fallen in love.”

  “Oh. Good for her.” Quinn slipped into the booth next to me.

  “No, not good! He has a girlfriend.”

  “Bastard,” Quinn said and turned to me. “What are you doing, messing around with a guy who belongs to someone else?”

  “I’m not messing around with him! I can’t even get him to kiss me, let alone do anything more.” None of that wild monkey sex or nailing to the wall that Mackenzie mentioned. The kind of stuff she was probably getting.

  The kind of stuff they were both probably getting.

  “So not a problem, then.” Quinn reached for the breakfast menu and opened it.

  “Problem,” Mackenzie said. “This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. Nobody was supposed to fall in love.”

  “I’m not in love.”

  “I don’t think you can decide that kind of thing ahead of time,” Quinn said calmly. “Especially not for someone else.” She closed the menu and put it down. “I think I’ll have pancakes. With blueberries.”

  “Do they have cheese grits here?” Mackenzie grabbed for the menu. “How about biscuits and gravy? And sweet tea?”

  “This is the south. I wouldn’t be surprised.” I reached for my own. “Just as long as there’s orange juice, I’ll be happy.”

  “It’s Florida,” Quinn said. “There’ll be orange juice.”

  There was orange juice. And sweet tea. And everything else we’d asked for. Even Mackenzie’s cheese grits that neither Quinn nor I would touch. And there was conversation. Lots and lots of conversation.

  Mackenzie’s new guy was Austin, and he was twenty-four. He worked as a bartender at Captain Crow’s and picked up some extra money singing. Yesterday, after the pool, they’d gone upstairs to her room where he had relieved her of her virginity once and for all.

  And Quinn had been spending time with Ivy League Dude aka James—although he wasn’t Ivy League. He’d used to be, but apparently he’d been kicked out of Harvard or Princeton or Yale or one of those—I guess after partying too hard—and now he was at loose ends, going through his parents’ money like water. He had rented a freaking villa for spring break, and invited all his friends down, and they were busy drinking all the Tequila in Key West and decimating the female population.

  I sat back, ate my eggs, and let them talk. I didn’t have much to contribute—we’d already discussed Ty, and the fact that he had a girlfriend—and besides, I was more interested in listening. And not just because I love my friends and want them to get what they want, but because I was puzzling over the girl on the beach and wondering whether either Austin or James was a likely candidate for roofies and rape.

  Austin was local. He had tattoos and looked like a real bad boy—and that often includes some drug use, too. Sex, drugs, and rock’n roll. And he worked at Captain Crow’s, where the girl—Elizabeth—had been seen the night before we’d found her. He’d had opportunity to doctor her drink, I assumed. And Mackenzie said he had walked her to her room, but although she’d tried her best, he’d refused to come in.

  He could have gone back to the bar, or out on the town, and encountered Elizabeth. He could have taken her onto the beach and raped her.

  I couldn’t quite figure out why he would, when he could have had Mackenzie for the asking, but there’s no explaining certain things. And as for motive... well, maybe he resented being local and having to work while all the rich kids came into town to party and throw money away. Maybe he resented being ordered around and expected to serve them. I could imagine how that might rub someone the wrong way, someone less privileged, who didn’t go to college and who had to work for a living.

  And James... I’d already wondered whether one or more of the group of Ivy League Dudes could be involved. Rich, privileged, used to getting whatever they wanted just by pointing to it. Recreational drug use is often part of that culture. And if he’d wanted Quinn and Quinn had said no—and it sounded like she had, at least at first—he might have decided to take out his frustrations on someone else.

  But since I didn’t want either of my friends to know what I was thinking—not until I had something more than crazy ideas to back me up—I didn’t say anything, just listened and let them talk.

  “James has a boat,” Quinn said. “We went sailing all day yesterday.”

  Mackenzie whistled. “La-di-dah! What about today?”

  “Sightseeing,” Quinn said.

  Good. Sounded like she’d be somewhere with lots of people around.

  “What about you?” I asked Mackenzie.

  “Snorkeling,” Mackenzie said. “Austin knows all the best places. And swimming and sunning and sex.” She winked.

  “Be careful.”

  And I guess maybe I sounded envious or something, because they glanced at each other and then at me.

  “What are you gonna be doing today, Cassie?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Sightseeing, too.” And on the way, I’d stop by Richardson’s Motel, where Ty was staying, and talk to him about Austin and James, and about Mackenzie and Quinn. And if he thought the guys were something to be worried about, then I’d tell both my friends what I was thinking. And if that made them both hate me, then so be it. At least they’d be safe. “I’m going to see Hemingway House and Sloppy Joe’s Bar and the Civil War fort and the haunted doll in the museum.”

  “Enjoy,” Mackenzie said and plopped the outsized sunhat on her head. She wiggled her way to the end of the bench.

  Meanwhile, Quinn scribbled her room number at the bottom of the receipt and scooted out of the booth, too. “Gotta run. James is waiting. Maybe we’ll see you, Cassie.”

  “Have a good time,” I said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  They looked at each other. “No offense, Cass,” Mackenzie drawled, “but that don’t leave many options.”

  Perhaps not. I watched them as they walked out of the dining room and parted ways in the lobby, and then I took the pen and wrote my own room number on the bottom of the check, and got out of there myself, too.

  I STOPPED at the desk in the lobby to ask directions to Richardson’s Motel. It turned out to be a mile or so away, on the opposite side of Captain Crow’s. Ty had certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty in walking me home every night, when his own lodgings were in the other direction.

  The woman behind the counter marked the location of Richardson’s on a tourist map of the sights, and I set out, plotting my course.

  Several of the places I wanted to see—including Hemingway House and Sloppy Joe’s Bar—were on the way between where I was and Richardson’s. But it was going on ten o’clock, so chances were Ty would be up by now. By the time I got over there, it would be ten thirty. If I waited much beyond that, he might go out and I’d miss him. So perhaps I should go straight to Richardson’s instead of sightseeing along the way. The sights weren’t going anywhere, after all, but Ty might.

  I could see the lighthouse in the distance as I set out, and I made a decision to go see it later. It was located across the street from the Hemingway House, or so the map claimed, so it wouldn’t be out of my way. I’m not afraid of heights, and the view would probably be spectacular.

  And even though I wasn’t consciously sightseeing, there was plenty to look at along the way. Lots of old houses and buildings: big Victorians, small bungalows and cottages, and the ever-present square beach houses with wraparound balconies on all floors. Many were white, but some were painted in the traditional beach colors, like pale blue and green, pink and yellow. Ther
e were palm trees everywhere, and huge bushes with enormous flowers.

  And people. Lots and lots of people. Mostly naked people, or maybe that was the preacher’s daughter in me. But I saw a lot more skin than I was comfortable with in broad daylight on a city street. I’d thought my own shorts and tank top were pretty skimpy, but compared to some of the people I saw, I was dressed for a blizzard.

  Richardson’s turned out to be a roadside motel of the old style. One story tall, painted gleaming white with turquoise doors all in a row, and a glazed pot with green leaves and red flowers outside each unit. I didn’t see Ty sitting beside the pool, and I didn’t know which room was his, so I headed for the office, located in a pointed A-style building in the middle of the complex.

  The front desk was manned by a skinny guy with a scraggly beard and shifty eyes, wearing a Wizards of the Coast T-shirt. He was reading a comic book, one he tried to hide beneath the counter at the sight of me. Unfortunately, he fumbled getting it onto the shelf I assumed was there, and it fluttered to the floor, so he had to bend and pick it up. When he straightened, his pasty face was flushed, either with embarrassment or exertion.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling a friendly smile. “I’m looking for Ty McKenna.”

  Dude’s brownish-green eyes flickered. “Room 102.”

  Excellent. “This way?” I pointed right, to the wing of rooms spreading in that direction.

  He nodded, but didn’t meet my eyes. I stopped halfway to the door, my spider senses tingling. “Is he there?”

  He shook his head.

  I walked back to the counter. “Where is he?”

  “Police station,” Wizard Dude muttered into the beard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cops came and got him couple hours ago.”

  My heart gave an uncomfortable lurch, or maybe that was my stomach clenching. Either way, some part of me wasn’t happy to hear this. “Why?”

  “Found another girl this morning,” Wizard Dude said.

  Oh, crap. “They did?”

  WD nodded.

  “Where? On the beach again?”

  WD shook his head. “Cemetery.”

  Something cold skittered down my spine, as if one of the ghosts had run an ice-cold fingertip down my back. “The... the cemetery?”