Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“I can’t believe I would have missed this view, and for what? Fear is such a funny thing, a weird thing.” Sam finished the last of his wine. He used his napkin to dab at his mouth before settling it neatly on the table, next to his empty plate. “I’ve been feeling a lot of it lately. I’ve been scared of a lot, but… at the end of the day, you always have to climb over that fear. If I gave up and let the fear conquer me, then, shit, I would have given up that day I found Hazel.” He cleared his throat.
“Good. Hazel needed you.”
“She did. And now she needs you.”
“How’s she been doing?”
Sam shrugged. “As good as someone framed for a murder could possibly be doing. And I mean that in all honesty. She’s been handling it really well. I think she has a lot of hope. A lot of faith in you.”
A small ice cube formed in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t that I felt like she had done it, it’s that I wasn’t entirely sure I could prove she didn’t. The waitress came around then with the bill, which Sam made an attempt at grabbing before I snatched it away. He smiled and mouthed a “thank you” as I handed my card over. I wanted to tell him that he never had to thank me, that whatever I did for him was because I wanted to do it for him.
I kept my mouth shut instead. A prickle of fear crept up my back as I started to realize the intensity of what I was feeling. As I looked across the table, locking eyes with the innocent and smiley Sam Clark, I realized that I was falling from a height that rivaled the building we were currently sitting on the very top of.
“Ready?” Sam asked, still smiling, as the waitress brought back my card.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
“Let’s go,” I said.
* * *
Downstairs, the line for the valet seemed to wrap around the block. The poor guys were running back and forth with keys jingling in their hands as impatient guests tapped their shoes and crossed their arms. I could tell we weren’t going to be headed home right away, and that was completely fine with me. Any excuse I could have for spending more time with Sam, I’d take.
“Want to go for a walk?” I asked, looking down the busy street. We were on Collins Avenue, which was lined with clubs, restaurants, and boutiques. The sun had fallen, the boutiques all shutting but the clubs coming alive.
Sam nodded, smiling. I led the way, walking past the valet and down the street, slipping into the flow of people.
“Are you a big beach person?” Sam asked me.
“I used to be.”
“Oh?”
“My parents, they loved it. We’d go almost every weekend when I was a kid. Then my dad got a boat, and the game was over. He never wanted off that thing. I’m pretty sure if it were up to him, we would have lived on the boat. My mom wasn’t that into it, though.”
Only when I was finished did I realize what I had done.
Talked about them. I hadn’t talked about my parents… not out loud… not to anyone—I hadn’t done that in years. It felt like I was cracking open a cobweb-infested crypt.
“Are you an only child?”
Another question that should never have been as difficult as it was. I shook my head. The only answer I could manage to give.
Before Sam could ask anything else, we passed a particularly busy bar, the patrons clustered on the outdoor patio, cheering for an impending wedding, the bride wearing a small veil as she raised her beer-filled mug. Just then, they shouted that the show was about to start. I looked up and realized we were standing outside of Leopards, a strip club that had become one of the most popular spots on South Beach.
I looked to Sam. “Ever seen a show at Leopards?”
“Nope. Just the viral clips that take off online.”
I grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him toward the entrance, a set of heavy gold-and-black doors where a bouncer sat on a stool, checking IDs as the last-minute arrivals showed up. We were let in and walked through a narrow hall lit up with blue and pink strips of light, signed pictures of celebrities hung up on the wall. The music was loud and vibrated through my bones as we walked down the hall.
“Is every night with you like this?” Sam asked, speaking over the music. A woman with red-bottom heels and a skintight snakeskin dress walked past us, strutting like she were walking down a catwalk.
“Not all of them,” I said. “Some get crazier.”
We turned into the main room. It was a large space with tables and booths arranged around a long and wide stage, three stripper poles gleaming on the stage, catching the beams of light. The walls were adorned with lighting fixtures that felt like they were pulled from an Alice in Wonderland book. There were flickering blue and purple candelabras next to a marble torch which sat underneath antlers with lights at the ends. Not all of them were on, but enough were to show off the leopard-patterned walls.