Love on the Boardwalk (7 page)

“Trina’s sweet. Got a heart as big as the moon. She might not be looking for more, but she sure as hell deserves it.”

Ouch. That hit home. Mostly because it was something he should’ve thought of himself. At the very least, he owed Trina a conversation about it before he stuck his tongue down her throat again. With less heat, he continued. “Secondly, what do you want me to do? Write
I
didn’t try hard enough
on a chalkboard a hundred times as atonement? Go talk to a shrink?”

Coop clapped him on the shoulder. “Talk to someone. Your sisters. My sisters. Your mom. Even me. Everyone’s been waiting for you to reach out, but there’s been complete radio silence from your end about the breakup. They’ve all been on the verge of chewing your ear about this for a while. I held them off. Told them I’d handle it.”

Holy shit. The thought of his mom having the same talk with him that Coop had just barreled through struck terror into his heart. Brad had broken up innumerable gang fights. Had chased down a murder suspect. Gone into a crack den to confront five dealers, all high as a kite and armed to the teeth. But none of that scared him even a tenth as much as discussing with his mother where he’d gone wrong in his failed engagement.

His fear must’ve washed across his face, because Coop nodded smugly. “Thought so. I’m your best case scenario.”

Although it tasted as bitter as straight tonic, Brad knew he owed Coop for keeping the rest of the family at bay. “Thanks for having my back.”

“I always do.” Coop lifted his fresh drink and clinked glasses with Brad. “Same as how I’m always here for you. Always have been, always will be. No matter what else changes, you can count on me.”

Weird thing to say. “Why—what else is going to change?”

Coop’s eyes widened for a split second—a sure tell that he was hiding something. He did the same thing when he bluffed in poker. “Slip of the tongue, is all. Doesn’t matter. We’re talking about you.” He waved his hands, as if calling a runner out at third. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to ruin the night, or this trip, by getting into it now. The subject is officially closed. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I have been. More than you know. I swear.” It just all sounded so much worse coming from Coop than his swirling 3:00 a.m. thoughts when he couldn’t sleep. When Brad thought about dinners with Dana in those last six months together. How they’d trickled down to a date night once a week, or less. Sex definitely less, if he could tear her away from her laptop. How she’d held onto her phone more than his hand.

That he’d never said anything because he didn’t want to start a fight. And how the more Brad thought about it, that was a pussy excuse. Being scared to rock the boat was no way to prepare for a life with someone. He knew better. After all, he had his parents’ rock-solid marriage as a guide. Neither one accepted less than one hundred percent from each other or their kids. Why had it taken him so long to remember that?

“Trust me, nothing would make me happier than seeing you back out there knocking girls for a loop. The catch is that Trina isn’t just any girl. She’s practically family. Keep that in mind when you’re deciding whether or not to keep it in your pants.”

“Ooh, what’s Brad keeping in his pants? Or who is he pulling it out for?” asked Darcy with a wide smile as she slid onto the third stool.

“Jesus, you startled me.” Coop put a hand to his heart. “And I don’t ever want you talking—or thinking—about anything to do with Brad’s pants and what’s in them. All of it’s off limits. Especially now.”

She turned that bright smile full force onto Brad. “Why now? Did you get lucky last night? Was it a big-haired, big-hearted Jersey girl who took pity on your tale of woe? Or some buttoned-up, glasses-wearing grad student looking to make her trip to AC super exciting?”

“Don’t bother. Brad’s already informed me he won’t kiss and tell.” Coop kissed the back of her hand, then covered it with his own. “Whereas I will kiss you and tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Nice try, Romeo. But I’m not that easily distracted.” She bounced on her stool. “I want to hear about Brad’s hook-up.”

“No can do.” He did see a small shot at payback, however. Something that would keep Coop up wondering half the night. So Brad waggled his eyebrows as he leered at Darcy. “You might have some luck getting the details out of your pal Trina, though.”

Chapter Six

Head sticking out of the car window, Trina inhaled a big gulp of the morning-fresh sea air. It was a great contrast to the stale smoke that she’d sucked in during last night’s waitress shift. “Pull over,” Trina ordered. To make sure Darcy obeyed, she flapped her hand right in her friend’s face.

“What? Is there a bug in the car?” Darcy asked as she hurriedly steered to the side of the road.

“Look at that—it’s a merman!” Throwing open her door, Trina rushed over to the tall statue. It sat on a little island of greenery at the entrance to Gardner’s Basin. The bearded stone merman glowered, as though protecting the edge of the Atlantic touching the shore.

Darcy shook her head. Her long ponytail thwapped at her shoulders. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s Poseidon. Neptune. Greek or Roman, he’s definitely the king of the ocean. See the trident he’s wielding?”

Kings were fine, but Trina had a fascination with mermen stemming back to childhood. Something about the freedom of swimming around every ocean mixed with the iridescent awesomeness of their tails. Okay, when she got to be a teenager, it became more about the fact that in pictures, mermen never wore shirts and were incredibly ripped. As she snapped off a few pictures with her phone, she said, “It could be an armed merman soldier. He’s riding a fish like he’s swimming off to battle.”

“If you look closely, beneath his seaweed toga, those are knees. Let it go.” Darcy’s navy wedge sandals scuffed noisily across the dirt back to the car. “I swear, if a merman swam up right now, you’d hop right into the ocean with him. No questions asked.”

Entirely true. If life was going to toss a merman at her, why on earth would she waste time asking questions? Act first, think later. Some people might call that approach backward, but it always worked for Trina. As she got back into the car, she resisted the urge to scan the calm blue water for even a vague hint of a tail and bare, muscled chest.

“Every girl has her own fantasies. There’s no need to judge mine. I don’t hassle you about your thing for vampires.”

Darcy steered them around the statue and into the parking lot of the quaint maritime shopping village. “Vampires aren’t slimy and scaly. Vampires are sexy. I don’t have to give up oxygen to be with a vampire.”

“No, but you’d have to give up garlic bread and shrimp scampi. Ooh, and those garlic rosemary fries you love so much at that brewpub.” And...now she had a craving. Maybe they should lunch first and shop afterward. So what if it was only eleven o’clock? The yearning for a perfectly crisp French fry knew no time boundaries. She’d worked hard the night before, trying to keep her eyes on Shorty and the dancers who lingered at his table along with working her own section. Trina deserved to blow off steam and just enjoy this time off.

“Don’t ruin my fantasy with a reality check.” Darcy grabbed her sun hat, purse, sweater, water bottle and camera.

Trina, on the other hand, shoved her phone into one pocket of her shorts, and patted the other to be sure her bundle of cash was there. Her hands were free to carry whatever purchases they might make here. Jewelry always called out to her when browsing. She also wanted an adorably tacky souvenir of Atlantic City. A magnet with a giant crab crawling over the name of the city. Or a snow globe with tiny dice rolling around amidst the string of high-rise casinos at the water’s edge.

As Trina resettled the ruffled top of her strapless jumper—it felt a lot like an infant’s onesie with the legs cropped short, except sexier and hot pink—she felt a hat land on her head. Just as fast, she tugged it off. Looked at the logo of a cresting wave behind the words Atlantic Dunes Resort Casino on it. The cap was tacky, but not in the fun way she’d hoped. Women wore caps to cover up bad hair days. And she was having a perfectly fine hair day. The ocean hair gave her bob a little extra oomph.

“Nope.” Darcy whipped it from her and jammed it back on Trina’s head. “Your red hair means you burn in the amount of time it takes me to sneeze. Wear the hat.”

“Geez, I’m so glad you’re here to look after me,” Trina said with a heaping helping of sarcasm.

“And geez, I’m so
not
glad you’re here working in a strip club!”

“Oh.” In a perfect world, Darcy wouldn’t have found out. Trina had planned to skate over the details of her undercover job by claiming client confidentiality. She kicked at loose gravel on the edge of the parking lot. “Brad told you?”

“Of course. He’s worried about you.” Darcy slid her arm through Trina’s. “And now Coop and I are, too. Strip clubs are breeding grounds for all sorts of dangerous activities. Drugs, prostitution, and here in AC, I feel safe in adding the Mafia to that list.”

“That kind of lecture is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Talk about seeing the glass as half-empty.” Darcy looked suitably chastened. So much so that it took her until they made it onto the path that curved through the artists’ colony to respond.

“You’re right. I promised I’d support you in this career just as enthusiastically as I did when you tried cake decorating. And dog walking. And when you managed that tanning parlor.”

Trina’s temper, which fizzled as fast as it flared, dissipated at the reminder that Darcy did support her. Or at least, she whole-heartedly supported the
idea
of Trina’s joy in the attempt to be happy. Darcy could be very evasive when it came to actually supporting her friend’s endeavors. Sure, she’d eaten all of the cakes, decorated and frosting failures alike. But she’d never booked a session at the tanning salon. Refused to accompany Trina on any of her walks with eight dogs straining at their leashes at once.

She tugged at the white skirt covered with big navy flowers of Darcy’s halter-style dress. “I can handle myself. I’ve been taking karate, you know. I already have a yellow belt. Plus I took that self-defense course. I never walk out of there alone, and I text Joe before and after every shift at the club. It was just supposed to be for a couple of days.”

Darcy paused in front of the first of the low-slung tan buildings with weathered, shingled walls and roofs perched on the edge of the marina. Each door was propped open, with a fold-down shelf holding photographs or paintings. A few doors were works of art in their own right, covered with detailed recreations of local landmarks. Even though it was a weekday, other shoppers already mingled in and out of the shops along the promenade.

“Supposed to be?” she said with a quizzical look.

Oops. That had slipped out. Although...Darcy had helped her solve the case in Ocean City. The one that led her to jump into the world of private investigation. Maybe Darcy was her good-luck charm. So what if Brad had pooh-poohed Trina’s hunch? This would be her do-over. Her chance to reel in a partner.

“I’m staying a little while longer. I think I found my own case to crack,” Trina declared.

Darcy’s eyes flared wide. “Are you allowed to do that? By yourself, I mean? I thought you said Joe had you on a pretty short leash.”

Too short. More like a choke chain. She sucked in a deep breath of the briny air. “He’s cautious. I told him that I might be on the trail of something hot. He lectured me about not working for free. But he did applaud listening to my instincts. Once I told him I’d take unpaid vacation for the rest of the week to dig into it, he got behind me. Or at least, he didn’t complain. If I solve it, that’ll prove to him I’m ready for anything.”

More importantly, it would prove it to Trina. Prove that this might finally, after years of trying on dozens of jobs for size, be the one that fit. Without that proof, it’d be easy to walk away, like she did every time. Sure, she loved trying new things. But it was starting to feel like sticking someplace would be a good thing to try, too. As long as it was the
right
place. And figuring that out was trickier than pairing plaid with stripes.

With a half-skip and a twirl that spun out her wide skirt, Darcy said, “Then you’ll get promoted. Stop being a trainee. Maybe even get your name on the company website.”

Didn’t that just sound official as all get-out. Serious. Although in her experience, serious often became boring. “It’s an option. You know I’m wild about options.”

The twirling abruptly stopped. Darcy put a hand out to steady herself on a sandwich board promising a genuine speck of lucky Atlantic City sand embedded in every necklace. “Uh oh. I’ve heard that tone in your voice before. What’s this option that’s caught your fancy?”

Okay, it was a relief to let it out. “Do you remember my friend Khristiana Valentine? The one who went to New York to sell her line of high fashion dog clothes?”

“How could I possibly forget? Those rain boots she made cost more than my knee high suede boots that I spent two months saving up for.”

They were super cute. Especially the ones with individual painted toenails on them. People didn’t appreciate the craftsmanship it took to work on items so small. “Khristiana got on one of those fashion reality shows. She didn’t win, but she did survive long enough to catch the eye of some investors.”

“Because there’s such a market for couture dog clothes?”

“Yes, actually,” Trina snapped back. “But no, not for those. She came back home to Annapolis to work on her own line. For humans,” she added before Darcy could make another sarcastic snipe. “It could be big. Or it could fail miserably. But she’s got her shot. And she’s looking for help.”

“You?” Darcy flapped her hands. “God, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I know you’ve always been into designing clothes as a hobby. The dress you made me for my birthday is just beautiful. I get compliments every time I wear it. Making a whole clothing line, though, that’s a significant leap up from a hobby.”

Yep. It sure was. Trina knew she’d bring a good eye. Boundless enthusiasm. But was that enough? She adored dabbling in fashion. Had dreamt of putting out her own line, as a matter of fact. But that was just a fun dream, no more possible than hair that grew in a different color every month. Trina was pragmatic enough, and aware enough of how much her rent cost every month, to not fly out on a limb solo.

“I know this is a big deal. Khristiana’s feeling pressured. Worried she can’t come up with enough ideas to keep the investors happy. She definitely can’t sew it all by herself. Ideally, she wants a team of four people. She’s holding one slot for me.”

Darcy grabbed Trina’s hands and squeezed. “Do you want to do it?”

“I don’t know.” Which really meant yes, of course she did. It sounded like a ton of fun. Trina generally found it difficult to resist the lure of a fun new job. As long as she brought in enough money to support herself, why not follow the fun? At least, that had been her viewpoint through all seventeen different jobs on her resume. Life was to be enjoyed. Lately, though, she’d started to think about the different sort of fun that could be had by really digging in and committing. To not let months of experience go to waste by switching to a new career on the turn of a dime.

“What about all this training you’ve been doing with Joe? You’re really ready to just walk away from it? Start all over again?”

Trina gave in to the impulse to roll her eyes. If she knew the answer, or if the choice was easy, she wouldn’t be asking Darcy’s opinion. “I don’t know.”

“Can I say something that may sound kind of harsh? I’ll spit it out and then drop it entirely. This is just something for you to mull. But I don’t want to upset you.”

“Darcy, you can say anything to me. I won’t be upset. And if you’re worried it’ll upset me, you can buy lunch to even the score.”

“You know, you’ve spent years looking for a man who believes in you one hundred percent. Who doesn’t judge you by what you do. Someone who supports who you are inside, no matter what you do. Maybe what you need is to start by believing in yourself enough to stick with something long-term.”

Yikes. That certainly fit the description of harsh. It had never occurred to Trina that she didn’t believe in herself. That maybe she didn’t leave jobs because she’d found something better, but because she wasn’t sure she had what it took to stay with them. Double yikes. And she’d definitely need time to think about it. Trina didn’t want to stare at Darcy’s solemn green eyes while she pondered. She squinted to look down the row of shops for any distraction. Boy, did she ever hit the jackpot when her eyes fell on a stripper from Club Eden.

“Leilani,” she cried out with a wave. Then she let go of one of Darcy’s hands and took off at a run, pulling her friend along. “Come on.”

Their sandals slapped against the cement. A trio of gulls flapped into the air, squawking their displeasure. The woman with jet black hair almost to the frayed edge of her denim cutoffs just gaped at them.

“Leilani, hi,” Trina gasped. Whew. The karate training was a workout, but clearly not enough of an aerobic workout. Running toward a clue—or away from danger—was as important as being able to defend yourself when running wasn’t an option.

“Hey.” The quick twitch of Leilani’s head brought the curtain of hair down to shield one side of her face. Not fast enough, however, to prevent them from seeing the black eye that showed even through heavy makeup.

The black eye—and the bruises in the shape of a hand print on her upper arm—hadn’t been there when Trina last worked with her two nights ago. The very night she’d seen Leilani stuffing something into Shorty’s pockets at the end of her shift. Was Leilani who he’d planned to meet at the arcade? And who had Leilani met that had roughed her up? The thought of it knotted her stomach. Whatever was going on, she’d find a way to help the dancer, who’d been nice enough to show her the ropes on Trina’s first night.

“This is my best friend, Darcy. She’s visiting, um, another friend of ours.” How to describe Brad? Calling him the sad guy on his non-honeymoon painted the wrong picture. Saying he was the guy who Trina really liked and wanted to lick all over, while true, made it hard to explain Darcy’s presence. “It’s kind of complicated.”

“So’s life,” muttered the Hawaiian girl, shifting her gaze back and forth between the two friends.

Darcy shot out a hand to give Leilani’s a vigorous shake. “Nice to meet you.”