“Oh, come on,” Aggie said, opening her door. “It’s not that bad.”
Bad enough, Julie thought. And for a surprising second she felt a stab of compassion for the young surfer who had grown too old to compete and, as far as she knew, had never learned to do anything else. That’s what happens when you don’t prepare for life. Julie wondered if her mother had told Tony the same thing.
Julie had followed her mom’s advice. She was prepared, and she was miserable. And she still hadn’t told her two best friends in the world what she’d almost done. Though to quote her mom, almost didn’t count.
She and Aggie climbed out and joined Kayla, who was standing like Ponce de León searching for the Fountain of Youth.
“It’s really beautiful here.” Kayla let out a long sigh. “Calm.”
“It is,” Julie agreed. Would Kayla have rather gone to someplace quiet instead of a party-scene beach like Dewey? She’d never mentioned that.
Kayla dropped her hands to her sides. “Let’s go find Lucky.”
“Tony,” Julie corrected her. She’d determined long ago not to call Uncle Tony “Lucky” ever again. He’d fallen off her “Lucky” list, and he wasn’t doing much this trip to reestablish himself. He hadn’t been so lucky for her.
Aggie threw out an arm to stop her. “Whoa. Cute surfer dude alert at ten o’clock.”
Julie looked in spite of herself. Aggie’s radar never failed. Not one, but three cute surfers were coming out of a shack as dilapidated as the bar but nearer to the beach. Its wooden sign was painted in bright blue, yellow, and green.
“‘Surf’s Up.’ And so am I.” Aggie gave them a saucy grin. “Maybe we’ll get lucky while we’re looking for Lucky.”
Julie and Kayla rolled their eyes.
“Oh, come on, guys,” Aggie said. “What’s wrong with a little fun while we’re looking for Mr. Right?” Aggie had always loved to party, but lately some of her enthusiasm covered what she really wanted: a house, a husband, and her own kids. But Kayla and Julie went along with the ruse.
“Fine,” Kayla said, “but our Lucky first, that lucky later.” She nudged Julie up the splintered steps to the screen door, where a sign read no shirt, no shoes, no problem. An orange crate of mismatched flip-flops sat beneath it.
“It’s going to be fine,” Aggie said, and pushed Julie through the door.
Chapter 2
The three of them had to stand for a few seconds while their eyes adjusted from the brilliant sun to the dingy bar light, whose only source seemed to be from neon scripted beer signs that littered the walls and cast everything into deep shadows. At least the music was turned low, so low that Julie could barely recognize the twang of a country-and-western singer.
At first it was impossible to tell if there were any customers besides the three guys sitting at the bar, whose heads had turned to see who had just entered, their grins glowing green from a neon miller time sign above them.
“Not so cute,” Aggie said under her breath.
“Middle-aged regulars,” Julie guessed. “The surfers probably come in later.” She walked forward and shouldered her way between the guy on the right, thin-faced with a gray chin beard, and the dark-skinned, chubby-cheeked guy in the middle who was wearing a cap advertising Corey’s Electronics.
The bartender turned away just as she reached the bar rail, and she addressed the back of his head.
“I’m looking for Tony Costa.”
Was that feeling of sudden cold from the fridge he’d just opened, or was it emanating from the change in mood as the three men turned back to their beers?
The bartender turned to face her.
“I take it back,” Aggie whispered from behind her. “Now that’s cute.”
“I believe this is his bar,” Julie said.
The bartender just looked at her. She looked back at him. Aggie was right. He was pretty decent in a scruffy bartender way. Dark eyes and dark beach-bum-length hair that curled temptingly at the ends. She tried to ignore that fact. Why wasn’t he answering?
“Well, is it? Is he here?”
“No.”
“To which? He doesn’t own it, or he isn’t here?”
The three men continued to drink their beer. Not one of them looked up or offered an explanation.
Kayla pulled off her cap and leaned on the bar, letting her hair swing seductively over the polished wood. “We’re just passing through and thought we’d look him up. Julie is his niece, and Aggie and I are Uncle Lucky’s two biggest fans.”
A flicker of interest from all four men as Kayla moved back and ceded the standing space to Julie. “So do you know where he is?”
“Huh. So you’re Lucky’s niece,” the bartender said, giving Julie a quick, scrutinizing look.
She scrutinized him back. She guessed he was younger than he looked, midthirties maybe, possibly even younger with some hard living in his past. “Yeah, so can you tell me where I could find him?”
“Nope.”
“You’re Lucky’s niece?” asked the guy in the electronics hat. “Well, I’ll be.” He stuck out his hand. “Corey Washington. I own Corey’s Electronics in town. Anything from earbuds to home security systems, I’m your man.”
Julie smiled, but before she could continue, the man on the far side of him stretched his hand across his companion. Julie shook it, too.
“Ron Petry. Retired. Twice. Glad to meet you.”
The bartender seemed to have lost interest and was smiling slightly at something—someone over her shoulder. Probably flirting with Aggie.
The man on her right stuck out his hand. “Ike Gibson. Lucky and us go back a long ways. Glad we finally get to meet you.”
“Do any of you know where he is?”
Simultaneously the three heads snapped back to the bartender.
“He’s out of town,” he said, dropping his smile. “But I’ll tell him you came by and to give you a call when he gets back. Just write your number on the chalkboard over there.” He thumbed a gesture across the room to where a large, much-erased chalkboard was balanced precariously against the wall.
Julie turned around just in time to see three heads snap back to contemplating their beers. “Do any of you know when he’ll be back?”
The three men looked at the bartender.
“Nope,” he said.
Julie was beginning to think she was being punked. It would be just like Lucky to be hiding behind the bar waiting to pop up like a demented jack-in-the-box. She resisted the urge to lean across the bar top to look.
“Is Tony out of town now, or just not at the bar? Maybe he’s still at home. Can you give me his address?”
“Why don’t you just give him a call when you get a chance?”
“My mother talks to him every week.” She started to say that he hadn’t called her and that she was worried, but something held her back. “My friends and I are on our way to Dewey Beach and told her we’d drop by to say hello.”
“Dewey, huh? Tell Louise he’s fine.”
Julie’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my mom’s name is Louise?”