Page 44
Story: Mr. July
“You’ll find out soon enough. See you on the 4th! Wear something pretty and please paint your nails.”
“I won’t smell like fish or wear something covered in dog hair, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Well, it is a hoity-toity firm. But you do me proud just be being you, honey.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
For some reason I felt unsettled after she left. I went down to the shelter. Daisy was tired from her earlier walk. But Roscoe barked as soon as he saw me. I took him out, put his life vest on and grabbed a beer from Steve’s fridge.
As the sun set, I raised the bottle high, “To you Pops!” Roscoe lifted his head from his perch on the bow. The dog loved the water as much as I did. Sometimes, Dr. Winnfield even lets me bring him to class and out on shorter expeditions. I took the boat out through a narrow channel, under a bridge. I knew I was asking for it, coasting past the area where the house was that I had rented. Sometimes I bike past or on calm nights like tonight, take the boat offshore. I don’t know what I would do if I actually ever saw Mr. Hotshot at his house. But a part of me is dying to catch a glimpse of my foe.
“Who is that?” The words were a sigh carried in the air. He was… jacked. Not slim but not bulky… but the perfect in-between. In a pair of trunks, he had his board under one arm as he scanned the waves from the shore. I swore his gaze went right through me, but from this distance there was no way he could make out a single feature on my face. I wished I had my binoculars, though. It was too far to make out his features, but I could tell a lot from his stance. He was confident, strong, his posture was relaxed but I sensed he could dive under the curl of a wave in a second’s notice. His bronzed skin was defined by the fading rays of sun. But there was no way he was C.C. That man would not be out catching waves during the weekday, he was probably somewhere in a city skyscraper, barking orders at some poor paralegal while plotting ways to torment me.
I turned the boat around and headed back to the other side of the peninsula, away from the million-dollar homes and even more expensive yachts to where the working class like me resided.
Eighteen
July 4th Weekend
“I need a flashlight!” Hunter called from the basement. The string lights I had hung from the roof, combined with the hot tub and Char’s hairdryer which I was convinced was supercharged, blew a fuse. Add new wiring to the list of things on my to-do list.
“Hang on a sec!”
I opened the cabinet above the fridge, the flashlight was there, but the box of calendars Char had given me for Christmas had vanished. I shook my head. “She stole the calendars.” I grinned, fingers itching to send her another email. Of course, it was just to “document” for the case that she had stolen a Christmas gift from my sister. No need to mention exactly what it was. She knew and so did I. I gave Hunter the flashlight before standing out on my back deck to gauge the waves. My board was in the sand ready to go. I wondered if she skimmed the pages, glanced at July? I opened up my app baiting her was becoming a necessity.
From: homeowner1278
To: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Missing Items
Dear Miss Hill,
I am missing a very rare, sentimental Christmas gift. It was still wrapped and in the cupboard above my fridge. Let this email be official notice that in small claims court I will be petitioning for this gift to be returned to me. Add thief to the list of things you are in addition to being a liar.
Yours truly.
C.C. Esquire
I was tempted to write gorgeously infuriating. However, she doesn’t need to know that since I saw her face, I’ve been rereading our communications, constantly checking the app, and pining for a new message from her.
I had set my trap. Now all I had to do was wait for her to walk into it.
Nineteen
“Gran? You never texted the address?”
“Ryan?! I can’t hear you… you’re breaking up!”
As if I would’ve been able to hear her over the crashing waves, people talking in the background coupled with… a steel drum band?
“I need the address!”
“My friend, Hunter drove me. I don’t know the address. Look for the string lights. Red, white, and blue!”
I started to grow irritated. Gran was always on top of things… this didn’t make sense.
“Have you been drinking?”
“I won’t smell like fish or wear something covered in dog hair, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Well, it is a hoity-toity firm. But you do me proud just be being you, honey.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
For some reason I felt unsettled after she left. I went down to the shelter. Daisy was tired from her earlier walk. But Roscoe barked as soon as he saw me. I took him out, put his life vest on and grabbed a beer from Steve’s fridge.
As the sun set, I raised the bottle high, “To you Pops!” Roscoe lifted his head from his perch on the bow. The dog loved the water as much as I did. Sometimes, Dr. Winnfield even lets me bring him to class and out on shorter expeditions. I took the boat out through a narrow channel, under a bridge. I knew I was asking for it, coasting past the area where the house was that I had rented. Sometimes I bike past or on calm nights like tonight, take the boat offshore. I don’t know what I would do if I actually ever saw Mr. Hotshot at his house. But a part of me is dying to catch a glimpse of my foe.
“Who is that?” The words were a sigh carried in the air. He was… jacked. Not slim but not bulky… but the perfect in-between. In a pair of trunks, he had his board under one arm as he scanned the waves from the shore. I swore his gaze went right through me, but from this distance there was no way he could make out a single feature on my face. I wished I had my binoculars, though. It was too far to make out his features, but I could tell a lot from his stance. He was confident, strong, his posture was relaxed but I sensed he could dive under the curl of a wave in a second’s notice. His bronzed skin was defined by the fading rays of sun. But there was no way he was C.C. That man would not be out catching waves during the weekday, he was probably somewhere in a city skyscraper, barking orders at some poor paralegal while plotting ways to torment me.
I turned the boat around and headed back to the other side of the peninsula, away from the million-dollar homes and even more expensive yachts to where the working class like me resided.
Eighteen
July 4th Weekend
“I need a flashlight!” Hunter called from the basement. The string lights I had hung from the roof, combined with the hot tub and Char’s hairdryer which I was convinced was supercharged, blew a fuse. Add new wiring to the list of things on my to-do list.
“Hang on a sec!”
I opened the cabinet above the fridge, the flashlight was there, but the box of calendars Char had given me for Christmas had vanished. I shook my head. “She stole the calendars.” I grinned, fingers itching to send her another email. Of course, it was just to “document” for the case that she had stolen a Christmas gift from my sister. No need to mention exactly what it was. She knew and so did I. I gave Hunter the flashlight before standing out on my back deck to gauge the waves. My board was in the sand ready to go. I wondered if she skimmed the pages, glanced at July? I opened up my app baiting her was becoming a necessity.
From: homeowner1278
To: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Missing Items
Dear Miss Hill,
I am missing a very rare, sentimental Christmas gift. It was still wrapped and in the cupboard above my fridge. Let this email be official notice that in small claims court I will be petitioning for this gift to be returned to me. Add thief to the list of things you are in addition to being a liar.
Yours truly.
C.C. Esquire
I was tempted to write gorgeously infuriating. However, she doesn’t need to know that since I saw her face, I’ve been rereading our communications, constantly checking the app, and pining for a new message from her.
I had set my trap. Now all I had to do was wait for her to walk into it.
Nineteen
“Gran? You never texted the address?”
“Ryan?! I can’t hear you… you’re breaking up!”
As if I would’ve been able to hear her over the crashing waves, people talking in the background coupled with… a steel drum band?
“I need the address!”
“My friend, Hunter drove me. I don’t know the address. Look for the string lights. Red, white, and blue!”
I started to grow irritated. Gran was always on top of things… this didn’t make sense.
“Have you been drinking?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82