The Rest of the Story(91)

“—and then, when I get there, all you do is take care of Saylor and leave early.” She sighed. “I just don’t understand.”

“Hannah.” Roo looked at her. “She was in over her head and we’re friends. What do you want me to do?”

“Let someone else take over,” she replied, nodding at Bailey.

“I’m kind of in this, now,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be,” she said. “I mean, you don’t have to save everyone just because you lost your dad.”

Silence. Except for the truck rattling, the sound of which also seemed quieter after this statement.

“This is not about my dad,” he said evenly. “Just trying to help out.”

“Almost there,” Bailey reported, and I looked up to see she was right: the Tides and the Club were lit up brightly just ahead. “You want to hop out, Hannah?”

“Fine,” she said, sounding like she didn’t. She looked at Roo. “Stop by for a second on your way back, okay? Just to talk.”

“I have to work,” he said.

“You always have to work!” she said as she jumped out, her feet hitting the ground with a slap. “God. What happened to summer being about having fun?”

Apparently, this was a rhetorical question, as she was walking away. As Roo watched her, Bailey said, “It’s called real life. She should look into it.”

“Let’s go,” Roo said, pulling away from the curb. “The Pavilion is just up here.”

He was right: I could see it approaching, all the lights on, although there was no longer anyone there. How late was it now?

“We’ll just pull up and you hop out,” Bailey told me as Roo took a turn that sent me sliding toward the other side of the truck. “Then start walking toward the hotel. Remember to look regretful and contemplative.”

“Right,” I said, feeling a shot of adrenaline wake me up. I could do this. Five sentences. The truck suddenly slowed considerably.

“Wait, this isn’t the Pavilion,” Bailey said, squinting out the back window. “This is . . . Roo, what are you doing?”

“Stopping,” he replied.

“Why?”

But then, we spotted the red and blue lights. LAKE NORTH SECURITY, it said on the car parked just a few hundred feet ahead, a man in uniform standing beside it. Next to him, phone to his ear, was my dad. I broke into a sweat.

“Oh, shit,” Bailey said, which didn’t help.

“Is that the police?” I asked.

“Worse,” she replied. “It’s Later Gator.”

“What?”

“Crocodile Security Company,” she said, taking a quick glance out the back windows. “They’re the police at the Club, the Tides, and around these parts. But everyone calls them Later Gator, because if you don’t run and they catch you, you’re screwed.”

“Great,” I said. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Bailey said, and while her endless instructions this evening had been wearing on my nerves, hearing this was worse. “But the thing is, I’m not supposed to be here.”

I turned. She was looking out the back door again. “Where?”

“Lake North,” she replied, as if it was perfectly normal to be banned from an entire town. “Since I got busted drinking at the Pavilion last year, I’m kind of, um, banned from city limits.”

“But you’ve been coming here the entire time I’ve been visiting,” I pointed out.

“Well, yes,” she agreed. “But very stealthily! You’ll notice we never came across security once.”

“This is insane,” I announced. We were now close enough to the Gator that the lights were bathing us in blue and red, and Roo had dropped the speed to where I was pretty sure we were just getting pushed along by the wind off the water. “Are we both going to get arrested?”

“You’re not. You’re just late and irresponsible.” She kicked off her shoes, stuffing them in her purse, then strapped it over her chest, cross-body style. “I, however, need to get out of here. Think you can handle this like we discussed?”

“Out of here?” I repeated. “Where are you going?”

“Five sentences,” she said, shooting Roo a look in the rearview. He nodded, slowing even more. “You were tired of his rules. You went to the party. You had a beer and it made you feel even worse. You feel awful now. You’re sorry.”

As she said this, she was sliding the lock open on the double doors, one hand moving slowly down to the handle.

“Are you jumping out of the truck?” I asked. “Seriously?”

“Shh,” she said, easing the left-side door open. It creaked, but only barely audibly. Then she looked at me. “Text me when it’s over, whatever happens. I’m sorry I have to go like this. But you can handle it. You’re a Calvander.”

But my dad, a Payne, was now standing right on the other side of the windshield, still holding his phone, eyes narrowed on Roo. The man in uniform, Later Gator, unnecessarily held up a hand to signal we should stop.

“Now, Bailey,” Roo said under his breath, his lips barely moving as he started to roll down his window, Gator approaching from the other side.