Page 90 of Story of My Life
“I would never betray a confidence that feeds me. Though you’ve kind of piqued my author nosiness.”
“We’re in Dominion right now,” Laura said, as if that explained anything.
“Uh-huh. I see.”
Her smirk was a mirror of Cam’s as she pulled onto the road.
“Dominion is the county seat. We share a border with them. The line goes right through Emilie Rump’s place. Dominion has a bigger lake, a busier town, and a hell of a lot more tourists. And they’re pretty much assholes about it,” she explained. “They’re kind of like the cool, entitled jock in high school who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone and Story Lake is like the cute, quirky dork that gets shoved into their locker.”
“Ugh. I hated those kids,” I said.
“Dominion’s attitude is even worse now that we had to contract with their police department. It’ll be nice to take back a little power with Levi as chief.”
I nodded at Emilie’s flyer. “Do you think he’ll win?”
“He better,” she said grimly.
A minute later, she turned onto a main thoroughfare. Unlike Story Lake, there were plenty of cars here, jostling for parking, honking at jaywalking pedestrians carrying shopping bags andcases of beer. The storefronts were all occupied, most with neon signs promising that life was better at the lake or offering free shots of Jaeger.
Laura squeezed into the last accessible parking space at the end of a block jam-packed with restaurants, bars, and souvenir stores. I stood guard against a never-ending parade of electric scooters, motorcycles, and cars while she quickly reassembled her chair.
“I don’t like this,” I said as she wheeled herself into traffic in order to catch the ramp at the end of the sidewalk. I could only imagine how pissed Cam would be if his sister got hit by a teenager on a scooter just for trying to feed me mozzarella sticks.
“I’m not a fan either,” she said as we ate the exhaust of an Escalade. “But you gotta go where the ramps are. Come on.”
The restaurant was thankfully slightly easier to navigate, though the wooden planks of the ramp were warped and split. It made me think of the accessible entrances I’d seen at the lodge and Angelo’s. They were newer and in significantly better shape.
All thoughts of accessibility flew out of my head when a hot pants–clad hostess led us through a gauntlet of tables and people. We lost her when I had to clear a path between a cluster of rowdy high-top tables but finally found her waiting for us on the covered deck where music blared from overhead speakers. A wide expanse of lake unfolded in front of us. There was a staircase that led down to a dock that was full of Jet Skis and small boats.
These weren’t the quiet waters of Story Lake. This was spring break on steroids, Poconos style. Jet Skis zigzagged in and out of the paths of other motorized boats flying novelty flags that said things likeI Heart Hot MomsandMy Dinghy’s Bigger Than Yours. Pontoon boats with slides bobbed in wild wakes. Groups of twentysomethings floated in inner tubes lashed to a tiki bar barge.
The frenetic energy made me and my deodorant-less armpits feel like we didn’t belong, but I was weak with hunger and willing to put up with a little chaos if it meant sustenance.
The hostess said something I didn’t catch before leaving us with sticky menus at the table.
“I know the saying ‘If it’s too loud, you’re too old,’” I shouted over the music. “But I think I’m too old!”
“Cozy, right?” Laura bellowed back.
“The food better be good,” I yelled.
“It’s not. But you’re one of us now, so I wanted you to see what we’re up against.”
We screamed our order to a handsome, boyish server who didn’t bother making eye contact with us because he was too busy flirting with the equally handsome and boyish bartender.
I cupped my hands. “So, come here often?”
“Not if I can help it,” she called back.
There was an outdoorsy couple dressed for some outdoorsy sport like tennis or golf at the table next to us. I put them in their sixties, possibly retired. They were holding their ears and glaring at the speaker above them.
I felt my phone vibrate against my leg and pulled it out to check my messages.
Cam:You haven’t annoyed me in a while. Are you still on two wheels or are you maimed in a ditch somewhere?
Well, would you look at that? The burly contractor was worried about me. I was formulating a witty reply when the server returned with our drinks.
I pounced on the mega pitcher of water he left while Laura picked an ungodly amount of fruit out of her “Skinny Colada.”
