Page 49 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes

Candace

C andace was no stranger to comfortable beds.

In luxury hotels and resorts all around the world, she had slept in some of the most high-end beds, nestled in sheets fit for royalty. The Comfort Clam’s musty linens had been a steep downgrade. Even so, she slept like a baby most nights thanks to sheer exhaustion.

Daisy’s bed, though?

Candace conked out so hard, she might as well have been dead. Multiple, mind-blowing orgasms would do that. But, also, with Daisy’s acceptance came a different release. They could finally move forward, and in ways Candace had only ever dreamed.

After eating the simple, yet ridiculously delicious, breakfast Daisy prepared for her, she almost fell right back asleep. Instead, she contented herself basking in her girlfriend’s domain.

Daisy’s bedroom was the most her space in the whole house, an eclectic mismatch of treasures and things that resonated with the prickly woman.

Like the rest of the home, the bedroom was compact by modern standards.

However, with the bed pushed to one wall, there was room for an impressive art drafting table.

All kinds of projects, from the makings of another wireframe seaglass flower to the evidence from her map-making for their date, were strewn about.

Candace smiled to herself as she ran a hand along the seaglass and polished shells strung from the window curtain rod; her girlfriend was a magpie.

Shiny, pretty, colorful things dominated the small space, with elements from her beloved seaside home and a strong preference for blueish green.

No wonder she wanted to collect Candace, too.

The thought made her tumble with joy. Candace rolled herself up in Daisy’s sheets, inhaling their earthy, toasted flour scent. She only pouted for a short while after the sexy selfie she sent was ignored. Unfortunately, she had her own business to handle and far less fun communications to draft.

Resigning from the pier and her uncle’s “partnership” was not a thread she wanted to leave hanging. Screw his image with the God Squad or his Boy’s Club. Candace wanted out. No matter what he threw their way, Daisy and Candace would figure it out together.

And, maybe someday, she would thank Uncle Perry for being so horrible. That way, she had no choice but to see him for what he was and run straight into Daisy’s arms. Easiest decision she ever had to make.

Easy in theory, though, did not mean easy in practice.

Candace had never formally resigned from a job.

The cafe she worked at in college had come to a natural conclusion once she graduated, and her last job had ended with security looming over her while she threw her desk belongings into a too-small box.

She fretted over the proper language to use, whatever ended things as unequivocally and quickly as possible .

No emotion. No bargaining or apologizing.

In a surprise turn, it was Uncle Perry who came to bargain.

Or, Vinny Lamarka on his behalf. A little before noon, Candace saw the man in his red polo and tan Dockers walk up to the porch.

She should have pretended not to be home.

However, feeling bold, she went to the locked door and yelled for him to go away.

“Fuck off,” she ordered, borrowing one of Daisy’s favorite phrases. “I’m not dealing with my uncle’s bullshit anymore. You can tell him—”

“That his niece is a dirty whore? He knows that, but the rest of the world will find out just how depraved you are if you take that tone with me again. Open the door, Candy.”

Warning bells blared in Candace’s head. She knew that if she opened the door, she would not get it closed again. Even so, her pulse jumped as familiar, unmistakably erotic audio came from the other side. Her face burned hot as she thrust the door wide.

Vinny’s smirk made his moustache lopsided. He held up his phone, angling it for Candace to get a clearer look.

But she already knew what he had.

Pictures of Daisy atop Candace at Higbee Point after they’d declared their feelings; voyeuristic, black and white stills taken from below the lifeguard stand, with Candace’s pleasure-contorted face visible over the half wall; the close-up, overhead video of them inside the shower stall could have been professional porn.

“You followed us on our date… Put cameras around her house…? What is wrong with you?”

“Me? What do you expect, acting out the way you have? Mr. Perry has been patient. Last night, parading all over the pier in sight of customers went too far.”

Candace was grateful for the doorframe. She gripped the solid wood, steeling herself.

“We haven’t done anything wrong. No one, aside from shitty people like you, cared that we were at the pier. If you publish that video, we’ll take you to court so fast— ”

“And the damage will be done,” he concluded with a shrug.

Slipping his phone back into its Boomer belt holster, he leveled his gaze at her.

“Once this kind of content ends up on the internet, it never goes away. You can put on a brave face here and now, but what about when you’re looking for that new job?

There are only a handful of places that will hire on based on your O-face… no matter how impressive it was.”

Swift and reactionary, Candace slapped the weasel in front of her. She did not regret it one bit. It felt like thousands of fire ants marched over her skin as she tried to hold her ground. Yet, Vinny looked at her like she was a petulant child.

“Last chance,” he told her, sounding like a shady car salesperson trying to close a deal.

“You might be able to stand the attention, but what about Ms. DeMarco? Word around town is that she had a rough go of it the last time her love life fell under the spotlight. Oh, that was your fault too, wasn’t it?

How long do you think you would have before the hate and resentment set in again? ”

She wouldn’t , Candace thought. Daisy had forgiven her for their past. It would always be a part of what brought them to where they were, but their relationship was not defined by it.

This, however, was not the past. This was a whole new problem Candace had caused. She spat, “What does he want?”

“To talk.”

“Talk,” Candace repeated. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m done making him look good for his cess-pool friends. I’m seeing Daisy, intimately , and nothing he says will change that.”

The man looked at Candace. With an impassive expression, he pulled his phone out once more and thumbed to a prepared social media exposé. As his finger hovered over the post button, her conviction wavered. She stopped him at the last second.

“Alright. Fine. Delete your perv collection, then I’ll go.”

“Good girl. Give me your phone.”

“What? No way.”

“Mr. Perry doesn't want any interruptions. Non-negotiable. ”

Again, Lamarka stared her down. It was clear one of them would have to budge. She thrust her phone into his waiting hand and watched him flick it to Airplane Mode.

Candace pushed past Lamarka for his car. She let her frustrated tears fall, unbothered by him seeing her emotions. She did not care what he thought; the only person whose opinion mattered was Daisy.

And Candace was determined to fix things before the woman had another reason to hate her.

As Lamarka drove to Peter Perry’s off-island mansion, Hurricane Mandy’s strength grew.

Howling wind shook the frame of the man’s Mercedes all the way over the bridge.

Fat droplets drummed with a dull roar against metal and almost completely drowned out the radio.

The car’s low undercarriage struggled with the sheer volume of water pooling in the streets.

Overall, the drive was a harrowing experience for reasons entirely separate from her situation.

Candace was almost grateful when they reached the hidden, white gravel driveway despite what awaited her there.

When she left Wonderwood on her eighteenth birthday, she thought she would never see this place again.

Just like the man himself, Peter Perry’s home was an empty shell.

It was a wooded plot, an acre of once-protected pineland forest that had formerly teemed with wildlife, which he carved out for his personal kingdom.

He liked it because it was situated out of the way from the rest of the world and the ‘shoobie mouth-breathers.’ The stucco stone behemoth was a monster of a residence that loomed out of the natural world like a mausoleum.

Flowerless, geometrically sculpted hedges made for a muted aesthetic.

On such a rainy day, maybe always, grayness seemed to sap every bit of color.

It was also where Candace spent most of her time after her uncle took custody of her.

When she was not on the boardwalk with Demi or at school, she was stuck miles away from anything or anyone she cared about.

She had not been a princess in a tower, but she had been as isolated—yearning to work up the courage to talk to the other princess whom she had a crush on.

Lamarka parked in the garage in one of the few available spots.

There was a Michael Bay movie worth of Maseratis, Lambos, a new, ugly-as-sin Tesla truck, and more, all meticulously stored in the sprawling space.

Peter Perry loved cars because they were more things he could show off.

When it came down to it, the man was a simple creature.

His entire, sad existence revolved around obtaining bragging rights.

Candace’s pumps slipped on the polished concrete floor, but she growled at Lamarka’s attempt to offer a hand.

“As if I’d ever touch you.”

“You feminist types hate gentlemen, don’t you?”

“Don’t kid yourself, you’re a henchman.”

“And you’ve always been a brat. It’s about time Mr. Perry dealt with your embarrassment.”