Page 69 of Beach Bodies

I meet his eyes fully and smile back, willing him to see the hero in me.

The hero who just saved an old man’s life.

The same hero that kills.

I’ve been saving lives all along, I send to him wordlessly.Iamgood. And see? I’m doing good.

And I’m going to keep doing good…

… next year.

This year has become too dangerous. I won’t kill Serena or Craig– or anyone.

Scrapping all the effort of the past week feels like a small death. All the hours spent scouring through guest files, researching each candidate, trying to piece together the complex puzzle of a perfect death– it fucking sucks to just throw that away. I know more than most that life is short– shorter than we’re ever ready for– and it’s hard to accept that I just wasted a piece of my life, no matter how small, on plans that won’t come to fruition.

On the other hand, in some small part of me, it also feels good not just to have reached a decision… but to have let go.

Anyway, in the grand scope of things, it’s OK. I force myself to remember: there’s always next year.

All good things come to those who wait.

Chapter Twenty-four

‘Let’s raise a glass!’ cries Vic. The bar at the Sunset is mobbed with lifeguards, spa techs, trainers and more. Vic put the word out among the staff that drinks were on the house, and let’s just say that everyone showed up thirsty. ‘To our very own hero, Lily Lennox!’

‘To Lily!’ everyone shouts, followed by a staccato rainfall of glasses knocking against each other. We all drink. The whiskey makes a trail of fire down my throat.

The band strikes up ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’, and everyone sings along, not just the staff at the bar, but guests as well, standing at their tables, beverages aloft, the sea of glasses catching the light.

I smile on them all.

It’s strange to be the centre of attention when I normally seek to avoid this kind of notice, but it hasn’t escaped me that Daniel is right over there at a table of his own. The more he can see me in a positive light, admired and respected, the less likely that he’ll assume I’m a killer.

‘Lily, what you did today was exemplary,’ says Kenton,grasping my shoulder as soon as the song ends, his expression sincere. He has to lean close and shout to be heard over the eruption of whistles and whoops around us. ‘You’re a credit to the team.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, also shouting. ‘I’m just glad Herb is OK.’ Herb Tulaine was the name of the man. He got whisked away to the small island hospital, and I’m hoping we’ll hear an update on him soon.

‘So proud of you,’ says River, sidling up to me and giving me a sweet side-hug that I return. Something about her fresh innocence touches me. Some of the other lifeguards– Hannah, the English chick, a few more– chime in with, ‘Yeah, awesome job,’ and ‘Way to go out there, Lil.’

‘Thanks, guys,’ I say, and notice my whiskey glass is empty. I turn around and set it back down on the bar. Even though I’m not intending to drink any more– I really shouldn’t drink at all while on benzodiazepines– Vic immediately gestures to the bartender. ‘Another for the lady!’

The kitchen is bringing out free snacks and placing them up and down the bar– bowls of salted nuts, hummus with pita, chips and guac. I snag a soft wedge of fresh pita and drag it through the hummus. Wow. It’s probably the best hummus I’ve ever had. Immediately, I’m trying to break down the flavours. Chickpeas and tahini, obviously, olive oil and lemon and garlic—

‘The woman of the moment,’ teases the bartender, interrupting my reverse-engineering as he thunks another whiskey in front of me, sparkling amber in its cut-crystal glass. ‘Anything else I can get you?’

‘Nah, I’m good,’ I say with a grin as I take a tiny sip.

‘There’s some fresh oysters in from Maine…’

‘Too salty,’ I laugh. ‘I’m a West Coast oysters kind of girl.’

He laughs. It’s the bartender from that night when I got the ginger ales for River. He’s cute, and I feel like he’s trying to flirt. But he doesn’t hold a candle to Daniel.

I smell him before I see him– pine and salt with a little earthy layer of pure man.Speak of the devil.

‘Big morning for you, huh?’ says Daniel, leaning his forearms on the bar next to me. A warm wave travels through my body. He’s drinking something pink and frothy, as per usual, and I nudge my shoulder into his.

‘You could say that.’ Maybe it’s the buzz of whiskey, but in a strange way, I feel relaxed about the whole Daniel problem. This morning I felt our natural enmity. Now, I’m feeling our alignment, our similarities. We could really understand each other, I bet. If we trusted each other enough to open up. After all, we’re both here trying to do what’s right. We’re just working off different compasses.

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