Page 55 of Villainous Summer

That made the next part of my plan all the easier to implement. Cory still was as big of a jerk as always. I wasn’t special to him, and neither was his Kodi.

No, he deserved every bit of of his comeuppance.

The drive from my apartment to his neighborhood was mostly silent, punctuated by the occasional message from Cory.

He was falling for it so easily it was laughable. For a self-proclaimed smart man, you’d think he’d be suspicious when one of the bikini pictures of Candy featured four fingers on one hand and two thumbs on the other. I had thought it was only people my dad’s age who fell for AI art, but apparently, twenty-nine-year-old cheaters did, too.

In Cory’s neighborhood, staple gun in hand, I took great pleasure in the thwack of metal into the wooden pole.

Stepping back, I admired the craftsmanship Devin put into the flyer. Emblazoned across the top read:

Person of interest in the disappearance of Ranger!!!

Last seen at our home on Frigga Lane with this man!!

I placed a stock photo of a beagle beside a terrible Facebook picture of Cory. In smaller print below was a brief description.

Ranger is a five-year-old beagle. He was seen in our fenced yard on the afternoon of 6/2. This man was seen approaching our yard, and our dog has been missing ever since.

If you have any information about this disappearance or know the location of our beloved family pet, please call this number.

I included the Google number I had set up for the occasion.

Printed on bright yellow paper, the flyers would stand out on every telephone pole.

I started on the street I recalled had multiple new residents, five streets away from Cory’s house. Far enough that most would see the flyer immediately before it was removed and close enough that they would see him in passing.

On my way home from the neighborhood, I stopped at the mail drop, sliding in the bright pink postcard addressed to Cory, confirming his follow-up treatment for chlamydia was on June seventeenth.

Content with my work well done, I made my way home to my knitting and vampire romance audiobook.

I was feeling bloodthirsty indeed.

Summer

All week long, I was working twelve- to fourteen-hour shifts at the hotel. We had guest disputes, a server who quit midshift, and the ever-present Why was I charged thirty dollars for a movie?—because someone in your room ordered a porno.

After each day, I would collapse on the couch, exhausted and barely able to turn on The West Wing.

What I wasn’t too tired to check on, was the unfolding drama of the mystery dog-napper. I didn’t have to wait long for someone to post on the Ridgewood Community page after the flyer. People in the comments thanked the poster for alerting the public, while some thought it was unfair to accuse a man with no proof. Whether they were on his side, everyone seemed to think it was real.

I didn’t need Cory to get in trouble. No Ranger existed to have been stolen, after all. But it seemed to amp up the fear of outsiders that most old-time Ridgewoodians had.

That nosy neighbor, Mrs. Partridge, had even commented, My prayers to Ranger’s family.

I snorted when I read that.

Since it was only one of many, I enjoyed the discourse around it, the comment section soaring to over one hundred before an admin shut it off. All the busybodies in Ridgewood would talk about this, with the suspicious cars and the rumors of paid parking on Front Street.

It was my first day off in days, and I was frozen in front of my dresser, the weight of too many decisions heavy on me. Namely, what should one wear when going on the boat of a man they barely knew? Particularly when that man had broad shoulders and piercing gray eyes who insisted on changing your oil and walking you home from the bar?

After the trivia night, he would check in on me and updated me on his foot, while I sent him a picture of the blanket I was making.

It was all innocent. I could almost convince myself that the funny feeling between my legs when he leaned in close to me was all in my head. That the kiss we shared on that boardwalk was a little mistake, not to be repeated.

Still, I tried on all my suits while deciding which was best. Would I go with the neon green string bikini from a girl’s trip to Puerto Plata or the sensible black one-piece I had reserved for water parks to avoid flashing everyone while going down the Cascade Scream Drop?

I pulled out a boring suit, a pale pink gingham print in a short tank style with a little ruffle along the bust and matching high-waisted bottoms.

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