“Maybe.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her drink. “Thing is, I’ve never liked her. I couldn’t give two shits about her tarnished reputation. That’s what we do in Whisper. We choose our side and defend it to the death.”
I roll my eyes again. Regina will take some getting used to, but there’s truth in what she says. I think of Misty’s reaction to meeting me, praising my arrival, compared to Bridgette’s callous dismissal. This town certainly takes sides. I close my eyes and focus on the gentle sound of water lapping against the shore, trying not to let the ugliness of this place tarnish what beauty exists.
Six
June 16, 2006
Celia’s shift ended at six, when the lake closed to the public. People could still congregate there, and did, but they were no longer under the watchful eye of the Whisper Falls Guard. She put the whistle to her lips and blew, signaling to the remaining swimmers it was time to exit and find a spot further down the bank.
When the water was clear, she strung the flimsy chain blocking off her section of beach and folded the flaps of her lifeguard stand. She filled out her hours by hand and left the clipboard hanging from the back of the chair for Ronnie, her boss, to find in the morning. When she arrived at the gravel lot, there were only two cars remaining: her purple Civic, and Cooper’s shiny black truck. He leaned against his vehicle, thumbing his iPod.
The mere sight of him took her breath away. He was shirtless, wearing trunks in the same shade of red as her suit. The whistle hanging from his neck dangled over his taut, tan midsection. His hair was blond, but a few strands at his crown were white from long hours sitting in the sun. Anyone looking at Cooper Douglas could see his good looks, but Celia saw more than that. She saw potential, something she considered a massively underrated relationship incentive.
He crossed his arms as she approached, so Celia added a little more swing to her hips. They’d been fighting for weeks, and she wanted to win him over. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair, so he could see the bright blue in her eyes.
“Your section packed up?” she asked, in her sweet, southern drawl.
“Yep.” His stance didn’t budge, neither did his face. Cooper was upset, and Celia had an idea what about.
“Bridgette said they’re having a bonfire by the south bank tonight. Think Roman could score us a couple beers?”
“I don’t feel much like partying tonight, Celia,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“What about?” She cocked her head to the side, letting her braid fall over her shoulder.
Before Cooper could answer, a white Jeep pulled into the lot. The music was blaring, and a collection of limbs sprawled out of the open windows. When the brakes hit, a smattering of dust spread around the tires. The driver popped up, looking at them over the windshield.
“Y’all heard about the party tonight?” asked Jim, a scrawny, acne-prone seventeen-year-old with a shell necklace around his neck.
“I was just telling Cooper about it,” Celia said, happy the cavalry had arrived in time. Cooper might be mad at her, but it was hard for him to resist peer pressure. Cooper always folded under pressure.
“We all know you won’t turn down a good time,” Jim said to Celia, but there was an edge in his voice. She looked at Cooper, but he refused to look at either one of them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Stop pestering her,” Bridgette yelled at Jim, scrunching to make room in the back seat. “Get in, Celia. I want you to braid my hair.”
She started walking to the car but stopped when Cooper spoke.
“Can’t come right now, guys. Mom needs me to run by the house.”
“Aww,” Bridgette whined.
Beside her, a girl with strawberry curls popped the cap off a beer bottle and took a swig. “Y’all are missing out,” she shouted.
“Go on without us,” Celia said, taking a step closer to Cooper. “We’ll meet up later. We’re hoping Roman will buy some more alcohol.”
Jim slid back into the driver’s seat and cranked the car. “See y’all after a while.”
The car squealed out of the lot and onto the main road, leaving another cloud of dirt in its wake. The voices and blaring music faded, until there was nothing left but the sound of chirping insects and Cooper’s heavy breathing.
“You think that’s cute?” he asked, taking a step closer. “I told you I’m not in the mood to party.”
“That’s why I said we’d meet them later. We can go talk first, or whatever.” She looked him up and down, letting him know she was willing to do more than talk, but he didn’t seem interested. He was still angry. “You should thank me. It makes you sound cool when people remember Roman can get beer.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t need Roman or beer to be cool.”
“What’s up with Jim? He was acting like an asshole, and you didn’t even say anything.”
Cooper shrugged. “Maybe everyone isn’t as crazy about you as you think they are.”
Celia flipped her duffel over her shoulder and gave Cooper a look she knew he despised. It was like she was laughing at him, but there was no smile. “If you wanna talk, let’s talk,” she said defiantly.
“Let’s go to the dock by my house.”
This was a good sign. It was their sentimental place. The location where she finally let him move past second base and where, months later, he told her he loved her. Maybe this relationship was salvageable, depending on how much he knew.
“Should I drive, or you?” she asked.
“I’ll drive.”
Cooper jumped into the driver’s seat. Celia checked the locks on her car, climbed into Cooper’s truck and fastened her seat belt.
Seven
Helena
I’m reading the paper when I see it.
That bastard is engaged. Engaged. The word crawls all over me, tugging on my patience and biting at my wounds. This is what people don’t understand about moving on. Even if I accept what has happened, there’s always something in the present I can’t tolerate. Something new I can’t control.
I’ve always been an avid reader. I don’t have just one subscription, either. I have my national newspaper I read because it makes me feel worldly, a few local publications and the Whisper Falls Gazette. I know what people think… if you don’t want the past to bother you, leave it alone. I’ve tried to cancel the damned thing, what, three times? But I never go through with it because, in many ways, it’s my only link to him, and he’s my only link to her.
Even though I continue to read his family’s shitty newspaper, I wasn’t expecting this. On the front page of the social’s section (of course it’s the front), there’s a recent picture of Cooper Douglas. He’s probably standing in one of the fancy rooms of his family’s pretentious house. He’s smiling at the camera, his dimples pinned. His arm is around her. The new woman in his life. Madison Sharpe. She looks nice enough. Wholesome. Clean. Nothing on my girl, of course, but that’s to be expected. What this picture doesn’t show is the wool Cooper has pulled over her eyes; this Madison probably has no idea her fiancé is a murderer.