Page 5 of Crocodile Tears
Prickle Island Zoo just might be the most secure filming location there was. Marvel’s got nothing on us.
The only problem with the current production location was that the rainforest walkthrough was part ofmyroute, which meant I had to work around them if I didn’t want to bump into demon incarnate, Deacon Harrow.
I’d done the first feedings before dawn to avoid the film crews, a few of the birds giving me curious looks as they were still nestled on their perches, unwilling to start their day before sunrise. It was like Christmas morning for them when they awoke to a platter of fresh cut fruit already waiting for them, no need to squawk their demands for breakfast like usual. Each afternoon, I’d waited until the crew had packed up for the day as the sun was beginning to set to do a final clean of the enclosures—which also greatly perturbed my sleeping flocks. Birds were just so sassy—the true divas of the zoo.
But my plans were working. I hadn’t seen the slightest peek of Deacon, to my great satisfaction. I was determined that he would come and go without me ever having the displeasure of encountering him. In our last exchange, I’d told him I never wanted to talk to him again, and I intended to keep that promise.
As the racket of parrots flared and died once more, I asked, “Are you sure you and Frankie aren't having kids anytime soon?"
Finch practically fumbled the blood vial out of her hands as she returned Eddie to his perch.
"That was one hell of a segue there, Olive Branch,” she said, removing her rubber gloves and chucking them in the trashbeside the sink. I glowered at the latest nickname. Just because my name was Dove, didn’t mean there was anything peaceful about me. “Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with the presence ofPeoplemagazine’s hottest man?”
“The category was the hottest action star, not man of the year,” I muttered.
My older sister’s eyebrows lifted. “I won’t comment on the fact that you knew that.” Finch’s smile widened. “So why the sudden talk of me having babies?”
“I was just wondering,” I said defensively. “Mom is being more meddlesome than usual, and I think a few more grandbabies might help her butt out of my nonexistent love life.”
I grew more frustrated with myself with every sentence out of my mouth. I knew it was nonsensical. It wasn’t my intention to sound so hostile, but everything just kept coming out wrong and it was all Deacon Harrow’s fault.
“Goldilocks and I haven't even had our one-year anniversary yet, so maybe give us a couple of years? I’ve got plans for her. A ring, a wedding, a honeymoon that involves a lot of frozen margaritas . . .thenwe can talk about kids, okay?”
I pursed my lips and stared at the ceiling. “Of all the family members I thought would end up being a hopeless romantic . . .”
"You are seriously spiraling here. What is going on with you?” Finch took out her penlight and started checking my pupils. I swatted her hand away as she tried to lift my eyelids. “You’re supposed to be the least ruffle-able one of us and right now you’re kind of wigging out.”
“I’m not wigging out!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “And yes, I realize that the delivery of that statement isn’t helping!”
“What happened with you and Deacon anyway? You were cute, little summertime pals once. You two were thegangliestof gangly kids. You used to pick matching color bands for yourbraces for crying out loud, and then suddenly you started hating the guy?” I was about to open my mouth to speak when Finch beat me to it. “And don’t say the skink thing. That’s recent. What happened fifteen years ago? I swear you went into like a three-year depression after you and Deacon stopped talking.”
I felt my shoulders tense up around my ears as I tightly folded my arms. “I was thirteen and our dad had just died.” I gaped at Finch.
“Oh, don’t use the dad card on me,” she replied. “He passed a long time after you turned into a little fucking storm cloud.”
“It was just puberty, forget it."
"Yeah, definitely just puberty,” Finch quipped. “Puberty that perfectly aligned with your best friend leaving at the end of the summer, never to return. Your best friend who became a model and then a rockstar and then a movie star,” she added pointedly. “Definitely hadnothingto do with that.”
“He wasn’t mybest friend.” I balked at her sugar-coated sentiments. “He was just another summer friend.”
My siblings and I were good at making close attachments to people over the summer, when the population of Prickle Island swelled. And we were equally practiced at moving on from those friendships at the end of the summer. But Deacon had never felt like just another “summer friend” to me. Something about that age, that time of life, it had all felt extra heightened.
“Well, you’re acting like you’re going through puberty all over again now that there's a certain movie star somewhere currently on the premises,” Finch said, “and you’re actively trying to avoid him."
"I am not trying to avoid him,” I scoffed.
Finch arched her brow. "Oh really? You just decided to get an early start on the day this week for shits and giggles, hm?”
"Mm-hmm."
Her eyes filled with wicked mischief and my gut clenched. “Okay, well, perfect. Then you wouldn’t mind going to get Guava for me? I need to do a suture check on her tail.”
My mouth fell open. "Howdareyou."
Finch grinned smugly. "That's what I thought, Lovey Dove.”
Guava the iguana’s enclosure was directly behind where they were filming. There was no way I could get in and out without being spotted by at least a few production assistants and possibly even Deacon himself.
