I’ve never hated being right more. “Dad, come on!” I protest. Enzo’s been the bartender at Empire since it opened, and he’s the only guy there who can still beat me at pool. He’s also funny, loyal, and more like an uncle to me than a guy who works for my parents. “How can you fire Enzo? He’s an Empire institution! He works his ass off!” My voice sounds harsh and unfamiliar to my own ears, like I swallowed something sharp.
“He’s expensive, Jonah. Tough decisions have to be made.”
“He’s a person. You can’t put a dollar sign on him and be done with it!”
“If you think for one second—” Dad’s voice rises to match mine, and then he stops. Breathes in and out, composing himself. When he speaks again it’s in a tone that’s almost normal, except for the brittle edge. “If you think it didn’t break my heart, and your mother’s, to let Enzo go, you’re mistaken. We had no choice.”
You had a choice not to listen to Anders Story, I almost say, but stop myself just in time. It’s not like he doesn’t know that. “Okay, so…” I trail off as a loud rap sounds on my door. “Hang on, somebody’s knocking. Let me get rid of them and I’ll be back.”
“No, go ahead and get on with your day,” Dad says, sounding as relieved as I feel at the possibility of ending this call. “That’s all the information I have right now anyway.” He clears his throat again. “Maybe I’ll just text the next update.”
Shame at giving him a hard time stabs at my chest, but I have too much residual anger about Enzo to turn it into an apology. “That works,” I say, and disconnect. I let the phone drop onto my pillow with a frustrated grunt and shove my hands into my hair, tugging until it hurts. Another knock sounds at the door, louder than before.
“Coming,” I snap. “Hold your horses.” That’s an Enzo saying, one he’d always throw at me when I’d bug him to take a break and play pool with me. Hold your horses, kid. I have work to do. Goddamn it. If I keep thinking like this, I’m going to be useless all day. I force myself to take a couple of deep breaths, then stand and head for the door, running a hand over my disheveled hair when I catch sight of myself in the mirror over my dresser. Not that it matters. It’s probably Reid Chilton wanting to borrow toothpaste again.
I’ve barely opened the door a crack when someone pushes it all the way open. Not Reid.
“Have you seen this?” Milly demands, shoving her phone at me.
“Good morning to you, too,” I grumble, but my mood lifts a notch at the sight of her. I grab a T-shirt off the back of my chair, and Milly’s cheeks color as she registers that I’m only wearing boxer shorts. Serves her right for barging in at the ungodly hour of—okay, ten-thirty. Maybe I should’ve been up by now. “Where’s Aubrey?” I don’t usually see one of them without the other.
“Lifeguarding,” Milly says. She looks great like always in a lacy white top, tan shorts, and complicated sandals with lots of straps. When my head emerges from my T-shirt neck, her eyes are trained on a spot over my shoulder as she continues to hold out her phone. “Uncle Archer was right; he messed up by playing that song. The Gull Cove Gazette is at it again.”
“At what again?” I take her phone and angle the screen so I can read it. My heart sinks as soon as I see the headline at the top of the Lifestyle section.
THE STORY CONTINUES: HAS ESTRANGED SON ARCHER BEEN HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT?
“Well, shit,” I say, scanning the article. It’s all about how “various sources” spotted a man resembling Archer Story perform at Dunes last night. “How is this news? And did people really figure him out just because he sang a freaking Toto song?”
Milly sighs. “This is Gull Cove Island, remember? People are obsessed with the Storys.”
“I better let JT know,” I say. “I was going to keep quiet till Archer had a chance to talk to Mildred, but now that it’s out…” I send the link to myself and give Milly back her phone. Then I pick mine up from the bed and forward the article to JT with a text telling him to call me. “Do you