The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(26)

She laughs. “Fair enough.”

She picks up a pair of binoculars and peers into them before handing them to me.

“It’s terrifying,” I say more to myself than her. They’re so tiny compared to the water. It looks as if they’ll all come crashing down when the wave breaks, but somehow no one does.

“It is,” she says with a sigh, biting her lip. Her worry isn’t like mine. It’s not general and vague, it’s specific.

“You’re here to see someone, huh?” I ask.

She gives me a wary look and doesn’t answer for a moment. “Yeah, but he doesn’t know.” She sighs. “That sounds stalker-y. It’s just someone I grew up with.”

“Don’t you think he’d want to know you’re here?”

Her eyes fall closed, as if even the question is painful. “He definitely would not want to know,” she replies.

“I guess that’s why your songs are so angsty,” I say, and she laughs.

“I’m curious,” she says after a moment. “What is it about my career you envy? You make more money and you’re way more famous.”

I think for a second before I answer. I would like to be less famous, but that’s not why I want it. “I’d rather be well known for singing my own shit than famous for singing someone else’s,” I finally reply. “I don’t even get to play guitar now except as a stunt.”

She raises a brow. “You must have enough money at this point to do whatever you want.”

My shoulders sag. It sounds so easy falling from her lips. But I know it wouldn’t be. “It’s hard to extricate yourself. Even if I could get out of my management deal and my recording contract, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

She looks like she wants to argue but then shrugs. “If you change your mind, give me a call. I might know people who can help you out.”

A shadow falls over us then and I look up to see Six there. “Hey, Juliet,” he says, reaching down his hand to me. “Babe, we’ve got places to be. I’ve got a friend holding a luau back in Honolulu.”

There was a time when I’d have gone anywhere with him, when I’d have dropped anything to see him. Now, I find myself tempted, as I take his hand, to tell him to go alone.





It’s late and I’m drunk.

Dusk had barely fallen when I started telling Six I was ready to go back to the hotel and suggesting we might be able to meet his family for dinner after all. But it’s hours later and we are still drinking. I’ve lost count of how many stops we’ve made along the way—there were bars, there was shopping, there was even some family’s pig roast on the beach. Now we’re in a club, and the flashing lights hurt my head and I’m so tired I can barely manage the words Let’s go for the hundredth time, yet here Six is, still buying everyone shots.

“I’m sleepy,” I tell him.

“Barkeep!” he shouts. “I need a Red Bull and vodka for my pretty friend here.”

The mere thought of it makes my stomach turn. “Gonna go to the bathroom,” I slur.

He hands me a shot. “Take one for the road. I’ve got plans for you later.”

I’ve heard him say that before. I’m too drunk to remind him that isn’t the deal, too exhausted to explain that I care about him but I’m not sure this is working, that I worry I’m getting his mother’s hopes up about something that will never happen.

Or maybe I should stick it out. He hasn’t even been here a full day and I did say I’d give him a chance. And tonight was fun, until it wasn’t. At least he wants me around some of the time, I think. It’s more than I can say for my family.

I leave the bathroom but my stomach starts to swim so I push through an exit for fresh air, standing with my head pressed to the wall, taking shallow breaths.

When I’m finally okay, I turn to go back inside only to discover Six has my ID.

The doorman won’t budge, even when I tell him I was just inside and that my boyfriend has it. “Then your boyfriend can bring it to you,” he says. “No ID, no entry.”

As much as I love not being recognized, it had its benefits.

I pull out my phone and attempt to call Six, and when that fails, I text him. There’s no answer, of course. He’ll see it eventually.

I sink onto the nearest bench and scroll on my phone, opening a text from an unknown number which I’m strangely thrilled to discover is from Josh. I have his number now, I think. It feels like a gift, one I’m likely to abuse.

Are you guys okay? You missed dinner and my mom is worried. Please reply if you see this.

Fucking Six. He said he’d call them. I told him to call them. I wish I’d never come out tonight. I’d honestly have had more fun with Beth and Jim, even with Josh and Sloane. Okay, maybe not “fun” but if I’d just stayed, I wouldn’t have spent the past hours begging to go to bed, and I wouldn’t feel like I’m about to throw up.

Sorry, I reply. It’s all I can manage at the moment.

Suddenly the phone in my hand starts ringing. That same unknown number. Josh’s number.

“Hey,” I whisper. I wish we were sitting by the pool watching the sun come up. I wish he was sitting on this bench beside me.

“Where are you guys?” he asks. He sounds worried, not mad. I don’t know why that makes me want to cry.