Page 2 of Tourist Trap

I opened Miller Automotive four years ago and since it opened, Grant has given me shit for working so much, telling me the only way he ever sees me is if he comes by the garage I own and hangs out while I finish a job. Unfortunately, he’s not exactly wrong, which is why we’re here tonight.

“She said she found someone who is looking for a place to rent for the summer. They’ll be at my place around noon tomorrow to see if it’s a good fit.”

I don’t exactly want to rent out a room in my childhood home to a total stranger, but with my brother breathing down my neck to buy him out of his stake in the house we inherited, I need all the extra cash I can get. Plus, it’s just for the summer, and Helen says the new head lifeguard is incredibly responsible and comes with stellar recommendations.

“Maybe it’ll be a hot chick,” Grant says, leaning back on the chair he’s sitting in. I give him a dark glare before lifting the ratchet I abandoned to take the call, and he lets out a laugh. “I’m just saying. You’re so busy all the time; there’s no chance you’ve gotten laid in a while.”

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong. With my overtime work at the garage and picking up whatever odd jobs around town I can to make extra cash without causing alarm from my mother, my personal life has fallen far on my priorities list.

“Don’t think hooking up with a renter I’m charging to live here is really the answer. That feels…illegal.”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer as if he doesn’t see a problem with it.

“So, do you really think he’s going to take you to court?”

I set the tool down again and lean against the bumper with a bone-deep sigh, crossing my arms on my chest. “With Paul? Who the fuck knows.”

After my grandmother passed almost six years ago, she left the house in equal part to my brother and me. Paul had no interest in the property, and I couldn’t afford to buy him out, but I desperately wanted to keep the house my grandfather built.

The agreement was simple: I’d cover the back taxes and much-needed repairs that had stacked up, and he could have or sell anything of value in her home. After that, I would pay him rent for the next ten years to settle the rest of his stake before it would be mine, free and clear.

I’m sure my wannabe rock star brother thought by now his career would take off, but now that it’s becoming startlingly clear that’s not going to work out for him the way he hoped, he’s back to being a fucking bloodsucker on our family.

“Does your mom know?” he asks, and I shake my head before shooting him with a serious look.

“No, and if she finds out, I’m kicking your ass first and asking questions never.”

Paul and I were raised by our single mom after our father died when I was eight and Paul was five. She always wants to see the best in my younger brother, blaming his selfish and often lazy behavior on the fact that he only had our mom and grandmother, refusing to admit that Paul is just…Paul. It would absolutely gut her to know that he’s trying to force me to sell my grandmother’s house.

“All right, all right,” he says, lifting his hands as if to fend me off. “So what’s your plan?”

I shrug and let out a sigh that feels like it takes the last vestiges of my energy with it. Thinking about the shitstorm that is my relationship with Paul always leaves me feeling this way: exhausted and hopeless.

“My lawyer says if he’s hurting for money, which common sense says he must be, he’s not going to be able to afford a lawyer to force me to sell, but the place is pretty valuable real estate. He could, in theory, sell his stake to an investor who would have the time and money to fight me for it.” My jaw goes tight at the reminder of how I’m backed between a rock and a hard place by my own flesh and blood. “So I’m saving up to try and get the money to pay him in full while offering to double his payments in the meantime. The goal is to keep him happy so he doesn’t feel the need to look at alternate options.”

“So you’re basically at Paul’s whim?”

I cringe at the way he says it, though he’s not wrong. “I’m going to try and buy him out by the end of the summer. I’ve got a good amount saved, but I’m not quite there yet.”

“Is there any way you can get a loan?”

I think about how my brother fucked my credit by pulling out credit cards in my name and maxing them out years ago. On top of that, being self-employed and owning my own automotive shop makes loans a distant possibility.

I shake my head. “No, not feasibly, at least. For now, I’m going to offer up my monthly payments to him and hope Paul is just in a bind and needs money.”

He looks at me with a pitying look. His face goes contemplative, and before he even speaks, I know what he’s going to say. Grant is more of a brother to me than my actual brother, meaning we both would do just about anything for each other.

“You know, I don’t think I have all of what you’d need, but I could?—”

“No,” I say quickly, nipping that offer in the bud before it gets any further. “No.” I’ve prided myself on paying for everything myself for as long as I can remember, saving every penny I can, and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon.

“Look, man, I know you hate taking help, but?—”

I shake my head and cut him off again. “I’ve got it. Seriously,” I lie. “I’m taking on more surfing lessons this summer and upped my fees for tourists.”

He smiles at that. “You know they’re good for it.”

I return the grin because this is more sure footing, complaining about the tourists who flood our town from May to September. While they help keep our small town running, the tourists that visit during the summer season are a pain in the ass and something the locals love to complain about, myself included.

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