Page 11 of Hooked

“Okay. Let’s get you a dress that’ll make it impossible for Sven to stay oblivious.”

Her smirk morphs into a grin.

“It’s the least I can do. Plus, the holidays are a magical time. You have to strike while the iron is hot. Maybe he’ll be at the salvage?”

We spend some time finding her a dress. It’s not easy—the clothes are geared for women older than Kristi—but I find something we can style for her, and true to my word, I add it to my purchases and spend a gigantic sum of money.

Kristi whistles at the total, sliding my credit card through.

“Event planners must make bank,” she says.

“Well, I target rich people, and this is part of the investment. And I’m lucky because I have family money.”

“Well thank you for spending so much of it here,” Kristi says, her grin returning as she hands me my receipt. “Let’s load your stuff into my car and get back to Oak Bluffs. We can talk about where to get the rest of your stuff on the way?”

“Great!”

Vinny can waste his time being bitter and lonely. I’ve got more important things to do.

6

Sia

“Do you have a partner back in Boston?” Kristi asks as we head to Oak Bluffs.

“No,” I reply. “For a while I was too focused on getting my business off the ground, but now it’s just hard to find anyone who isn’t a shallow creep.”

“Lots of depressed addicts here in the winter, and rich assholes in the summer,” Kristi says, nodding. “There’s this manic rush in the summer that leaves a lot of people needing some kind of high when it’s over.”

I try not to cringe at the addicts comment. “I spent a lot of time here during the summer when I was a kid.” I look out the window. The ocean is still choppy, but nothing like yesterday.

“So you’re a rich asshole?”

Her cheeky tone makes me laugh. “Me, not so much. Some of my family? Sure, especially then. They were all about broadcasting their status. Going to all the right parties. Being seen by all the right people. Didn’t matter if those people were monsters or not.”

Like the sons of the rich businessmen with their easy connections to drugs that Drew started running with.

“I don’t mean to sound like a dick,” Kristi says, “but isn’t that kind of what you’re doing now?”

“It’s a good question.” I appreciate her honesty. It’s so much simpler to respond to genuine questions than it is to defend against smug accusations. “My goal is to bring people together. To make connections and help folks find community. Doing that through celebrations is really fun. I definitely run some exclusive events, but I do that to fund my more inclusive ones. It’s not the noblest way to get things done, but it’s effective.” Maybe if Drew had found a different, better community, he wouldn’t have died.

“Whatever works for you.”

We pull up to the inn. Vinny is on his roof. He’s wearing jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt.

Kristi whistles again. “Now there’s a specimen.”

“Too bad he’s an asshole,” I huff.

“Never heard anyone call Vinny an asshole before,” she says, switching off the car. “He’s always so even-keeled. Did he emote at you? Did you catch an actual feeling from Mr. Cool?”

“He thinks I’m a vapid fake.”

He wipes his brow with his forearm. His sleeves are rolled up, and my mouth goes dry. His arms are thickly muscled. I imagine the rest of him is too.

Don’t go there, Sia. He can’t stand you. Doesn’t get you at all.

“I can see that,” Kristi replies, opening her door.

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