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I rolled my eyes. “You’re a dork,” I said, nudging her in the thigh instead. It was nice to feel things were okay between us, for a little while at least.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ozzie

Ballsack was in the guest room, rolling calls. The art show hadn’t gone as expected.

Only a few people came—valid, since it was Friday night—but Ozzie’s bank account didn’t care about days of the week. He had someone on the hook for Fidel Castro’s toilet, so fingers crossed, butWinnie the Pooh’s map was off the table, and honestly, it was for the best. That one sale would’ve changed everything, but it was like selling a family member. To a baby.

Ballsack stumbled into the kitchen to provide an update, which wasn’t much. He’d tried contacting the backup bidder onBestiary, but the guy was now focused on a partially shredded Banksy print.

“It’s tough stuff,” Ballsack said, rubbing his face. The kid looked like he’d just woken up from a three-day bender. “Your art is very specific. I’ll keeping trying, though! Until I fall over dead. Any luck with the brand deals?”

Ozzie shook his head. They were losing followers on the daily. Ten thousand here, fifty thousand there. It felt like an active conspiracy, though Ozzie suspected something simpler, but also worse. He was too old and too poor to be interesting.

“Um, I have to ask?” Ballsack said, scratching his scalp. “What’s the plan if we don’t sell anything? Can you borrow money? From a bank or your dad?”

“A bank?” Ozzie screwed up his face. “Do people even use those anymore? And, not sure if you’ve kept up with the news, but Pops is broke.”

“What about your sisters?”

“I can’t ask my sisters! Get it together, Ballsack!”

But wait.

Maybe a sisterwashis ticket out. They probably had tons of cash, what with their boring lives. Plus, Talia earned a real-life salary and had already locked in the twenty-five-year gift. He doubted Gabby’s theater made jack, but she didn’t own property in the city or invest in art. Ozzie could see her squirreling away money in a cookie jar or some shit.

“Break over,” Ballsack said as he grabbed a kiwi guava Celsius from the fridge. “Gotta get back on that grind.”

As he wandered off, Ozzie pondered the sisters some more. Logistically speaking, Talia was the better choice, though she’d obviously make him do something depraved, like adhere to a budget. Gabby would be easier to convince. Either way, both already considered him a raging loser, so why not double down?

Ozzie unlocked his phone and scrolled. He had to go back pretty far to find the number. Hesitating, he hovered a finger over the name. Finally, he inhaled and pressed down. Somewhere in California, a phone rang.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Talia

When they arrived at Cardiff State Beach, the white tents were set up, likewise the tables, chairs, and extra trash bins. Four all-terrain wheelchairs waited at the edge of the parking lot and two dozen volunteers in blue T-shirts milled around, chatting, and filling canisters with pens. It was their first meet-the-candidate event.

“Should you pick him up or something?” Talia said, literally tapping her foot, her body full of nerves. Gabby was taking a thousand years to coax the damned Jindo out of the car.

“Jindos are very stubborn. Give us a second.” Gabby yanked the leash, and Frosty finally relented, spilling out of the SUV like a sack of lazy dog. “How is this going to work?” she asked as they walked toward the sand. The ocean and skies were gray, the air thick with salt and the vague scent of fish. “It’s a ‘beach cleanup and surf lesson,’ but are people supposed to do one or both or what?”

“Whatever they want,” Talia snapped, like it was the most obvious thing in the world even as she began to panic that she’d not made the format clear enough. First they’d pick up trash. Afterward, an optional (free) surf lesson with one of the pros, accompanied by Dad.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a huge success,” Gabby said.

Talia eyed her sister, wondering if she was fucking with her. “Yeah...” she said, warily.

Talia scanned the crowd and saw only volunteers. She’d advertised. Her team had texted hundreds of voters, and Gabby had called all the reporters who’d previously blown her off. They’d put in the effort, but what if it was still a bust?

“I guess the only question is...” Gabby said. They stopped to let a red lifeguard truck drive by. “Will anyonewantto surf with Dad?”

“Geez! How about some positive energy?” Talia said, but her sister was really over here reading her mind. “Either way, I’m happy to jump in. I could use a refresh. It’s been a while.”

Gabby smirked. “Oh yeah? Are the waves rad on the Upper East Side? Didn’t know you were such a surfer.”

“Um, I’ve been surfing since forever?” Talia said. “I spent every summer in San Diego and went out most days.”