my idea. These were my plans. It was practically my gala!
But they are continuing with it, and—to my endless annoyance—they seem to be doing a pretty good job of promoting it, too. I see the posters everywhere I go, not just in our own store window, but plastered all over town. And, gah, I hate to admit it, but they’re great posters, with artwork and typography reminiscent of the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine movie poster, and not a single word misspelled.
They’ve been talking to the media, too. Not just the Chronicle, but also local magazines and radio stations. Rosa even appeared on a feel-good regional lifestyle TV show, promoting the center and their mission.
A vengeful part of me wants to see them fail. I want the gala to be a disaster. I want Quint to come crawling back, begging me for help.
But from what I can tell, that’s never going to happen. Maybe I’m not as irreplaceable as I thought.
“So,” says Ari, drumming her hands on the counter. “It’s Tuesday. Which means … who’s up for some tacos and karaoke?”
Jude makes a sound like he’s very interested, but I know he’s just doing it to encourage me. Another attempt to pull me out of my slump.
“Nice try,” I say, “but there is no karaoke tonight.”
Ari frowns. “What do you mean? Carlos isn’t doing it anymore?”
“No, he is. But tonight, Trish Roxby will be setting up her karaoke equipment at the Offshore Theater, as the entertainment at the first annual rescue center gala.” I add, grumbling, “I saw it on their Facebook page.”
“Karaoke? At a gala?” says Jude. He shakes his head. “That’ll be a complete bust.”
I force myself to smile at him, because I can tell he’s trying. “Thanks, Jude. But I actually think it’s kind of genius.”
He knocks his fist against the counter. “I know. I do, too, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to admit it. Karaoke will be so much better than some boring symphony.”
I wince, but I don’t think Jude notices. I have a feeling karaoke was Quint’s idea. And it is a good idea. It’ll easily take what could be a stuffy, tedious event, and make it fun, memorable, unique.
I hate that he thought of it and I didn’t.
I hate that I’m not going.
Jude clears his throat. “We could play D and D? I could call the gang over, make some popcorn, finally get you two set up with your own characters…”
Ari and I exchange looks.
“Just an idea,” says Jude. “I don’t want you to mope around all evening, Pru.”
“I do not mope.”
Ari’s lips twist to one side.
“The last few weeks notwithstanding.”
“And justifiably so,” says Ari. “But not tonight. Let’s go see a movie—oh. Never mind.”
The Offshore Theater is the only movie theater in town, and Ari hates driving to the big cinema off the interstate. Mostly because she hates driving anywhere outside Fortuna Beach.
“How about we go toilet paper the rescue center while they’re all at the party?” suggests Jude.
A smile twitches at the corners of my lips. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. But I don’t want to go to the center, and I don’t want to be anywhere near Main Street tonight.”
“So you’re just going to wallow in self-pity instead?” asks Ari. “Because I simply am not going to allow that. I know! How about a chick-flick marathon?”
Jude and I both groan.
Normally, I wouldn’t be opposed to this suggestion, but right now, the idea of watching beautiful people fall deeply in love makes me want to gag.
“Oh, come on. It’ll help take your mind off … things.”
I’m saved from having to respond by the little bell jingling again.
Jude puts on his customer-service face. “Welcome to Ventures Vi—oh.”
I glance toward the door, and can’t keep in the groan that escapes me. I knew this day was going to get worse.
FORTY-FOUR
Morgan casts a curious look over the racks of albums as she makes her way to the counter. Without the cast, without the crutches.
Then she sees me and freezes.
Her eyes narrow.
My jaw tightens.
Ari shifts uncomfortably to the side so she isn’t standing in the icy gale between us.
“Er … can I help you?” says Jude.
Inhaling sharply, Morgan turns her attention to him. She’s wearing the yellow volunteer shirt from the center, and I can’t help but feel like she’s mocking me with it.
“I’m here to pick up a gift basket,” she says.
“Right. It’s over here.” Jude walks around the counter to where Dad left the basket. Morgan gives it a