The Cousins(23)

“Okay, well.” Brittany twists her braid. “I have to get back to my tables, but…a bunch of people are going to Dunes tonight when their shifts are over.” At my blank look, she adds, “It’s a beach bar type of place? Well, not just a bar. You don’t have to be twenty-one to get in. They serve food, and there’s music and games. And it’s right down the street, so we can walk there. Do you want to come?”

Not really. Again: nothing personal. But the less I socialize here, the better. “I don’t know,” I say. “I get really tired at the end of my shifts, so…”

“Also, Jonah hates people,” Milly puts in, with the air of somebody who’s offering a helpful tip.

Brittany blinks as I glare. “Can you mind your own business for once?” I growl.

Milly spreads her hands. “Like I was saying.”

“Well, let me know if you’re up for it,” Brittany says with a strained smile. She heads back into the kitchen, and I dig my fork into the pile of linguine in front of me with a vengeance.

“You can leave anytime,” I tell Milly.

She looks at my plate, brow furrowed. “That’s shrimp.”

“No shit,” I say, taking as big a mouthful as I can manage. Milly just keeps staring, which is kind of weird and rude, until Chaz returns and sets a Coke in front of me. Her eyes stray to the thick silver band on his right index finger.



“I like your wedding ring,” she says.

“Not a wedding ring,” Chaz says. He pulls off the silver band and holds it up so a thin line that looks like a zipper is visible. “Guitar string,” he explains. “I used to play a lot. Still do, sometimes.”

“Cool.” Milly gives him a half smile. “Are you any good?”

Chaz puts the ring back on and makes a sweeping gesture around the bar. “Well, I work here, don’t I?” he says. “So…not good enough.”

I’ve been inhaling my food during their entire conversation, and Milly keeps watching me. “Enjoying your dinner?” she asks when I stop for air.

Chaz grins, stroking his beard. I can’t tell how old he is; he could be anywhere between twenty-five and forty-five. “You have to ask?” he says.

“You guys need a new hobby,” I snap. Meals are a highlight of this weird place, and their hovering is ruining mine.

Milly slides off the stool. “I changed my mind,” she says. “I want a drink after all. I’ll get it myself, though.”

“Something nonalcoholic,” Chaz calls as she disappears behind one of the bar pillars. “I know the exact level of every bottle and I will check.” He shakes his head, picking up a towel and a wineglass. “That kid knows her way around a bar.”

She’s not the only one, I think, watching him polish the glass with slightly trembling hands. My favorite aunt, my mother’s youngest sister, has hands that do the exact same thing when she’s gone too long without a drink. She’s one of those high-functioning alcoholics who’s always slightly buzzed, but rarely drunk. Or maybe I’m just in denial about that. “I guess,” I say, pushing the last of my pasta away.



“You guys are cousins, right?” Chaz asks. Like the entire island doesn’t know exactly who we are. I nod, and he asks, “You close?”

“No.” Chaz raises his brows at my swift reply, and I add, “I mean, I hadn’t seen her for years before we started working here. Our families don’t exactly hang out.”

“Well, now’s your chance to get to know one another, right? Family’s important. Or it should be, anyway.” Chaz’s lean face looks suddenly tired. He’s still polishing the same wineglass, which is streakier than when he started.

Milly returns with a glass of water and hops back onto the stool beside me, putting the card from Donald Camden down on the bar. I can’t help myself; I pick it up again and look at the number inside. “So, listen,” I say. I lower my voice, but Chaz is already turning away to finish stocking the bar. “Are you thinking of doing it?”

“No. Not when he wants to get rid of us that badly.” For a second our eyes meet in solidarity—despite the lure of the money, I don’t want to leave either—and then something in her face shifts. “It’s funny that Brittany mentioned Dunes. Aubrey and I were just thinking that the three of us should go out. Have a cousins’ night.”

Her eyes get wide and guileless, and I roll mine. “Bullshit.” Milly doesn’t seem surprised by the response, but she does look like she’s waiting for more, so I add, “In case it wasn’t clear, that’s a no.”

“Come on,” Milly says, in a persuasive tone that probably works for her ninety-nine percent of the time. “Aubrey needs a night out. Something’s going on with Uncle Adam, but she won’t tell me what. Maybe you can get her to open up.”



I snort. Now she’s flat-out lying, because there’s no way Aubrey would tell me anything she’s not willing to tell Milly. “Drop the act. We both know you don’t really want to hang out with me. So what do you want?”

Milly’s face hardens. “Show up tonight and find out.”

We stare at one another for a beat. “Maybe I will,” I finally say.