"Is it a theme?" I ask.
Conall’s eyes slant toward me before settling back on the road. "Is what a theme?"
"The island. Is that why everything's so weird? Is there some sort of holiday or creepy theme going on that I don't know about?" A crease forms between his brows.
"I don't know what you mean. It's just an old island."
It's my turn to look at him skeptically. "I don't like when people lie to me and make me feel stupid."
"Then don't ask me questions I can't answer without lying." He grits out. I fall a step behind him, thinking about his answer. There is something going on, but no one will tell me. Asking is going to get me lies, so I'm not going to ask. I'm going to observe. For instance, since the sun came out, I can see that Conall’s hair has an underlayer of green beneath the black.
We walk in silence.
"Where do you work?" I ask after a while.
"A little bit here, a little bit there."
My eyes narrow. "That sounds very much like you're without a job and just don't want to say so." The faintest ghost of a smile passes over his lips.
"I'm mostly in private security," he explains.
"Like, a bodyguard?" I come back to walking next to him. He nods, and I'm aware of his gaze on my face. "Who could possibly need a bodyguard on this island?" He shrugs.
The café has a line. It probably has a line every day, being one of the only food places on the island. Conall joins the line with me.
"Hey!"
I turn to find Layla joining us. Her eyes are cole lined and her dark hair is smooth, falling to her mid back. She's wearing jeans and a T-shirt, far more pedestrian than half the others in line. This morning, I've seen robes, wraps, and something that looked like a bikini top.
"Have you thought about game night?" Layla asks. Friday is still a few days away, but she clearly wants to know. I have no excuse under the sun.
"Yeah. I'll be there." I turn to Conall, who's pointedly studying the overhead chalkboard. "Are you coming to game night at Layla's?" I ask, mostly to bug him. He doesn't exactly seem like a cocktails-and-games kind of guy. But to my surprise, and from the look on her face, Layla is too, he smiles a wolfish grin that shows all of his white teeth.
"I'd love to," he replies. I want to sink through the floor.
"I didn't—" I look to Layla, who seems just as perplexed. "It's not my house. I was just—" Floundering socially feels far more familiar than anything else I've experienced here.
"Of course. We'd love to have you, Conall. It's so rare you make an appearance at these things. I wonder what's changed." Layla glances between us with one raised eyebrow. I widen my eyes and shake my head. Conall pinches the bridge of his nose. Layla does not seem deterred.
"Morning." A bright voice cuts across the tension. Dolly joins us in a light babydoll dress with big pink flowers on it. "Conall, aren't you supposed to be watchingfrom—"
"Dolly," Conall cuts across whatever she was about to say. "I was just getting a coffee and ran into Ivy on the main road."
Dolly nods and winks with absolutely no subtlety. I'm so sick of all of this cryptic bullshit. I glance at Layla, clearly the most reasonable of the bunch, but she only cringes in apology.
Whatever.
When we reach the front, the woman behind the counter greets Layla and Dolly warmly. She's tall and curvy. Her light yellow dress is as light and bright as her store against her dark brown skin.
"Ada, this is Ivy. She's new to the island. She's coming for game night." Ada gives me a short once-over.
"Do you play euchre?" she asks, and I can't help a small laugh.
"I live in Michigan, so yeah."
Ada smiles and hands coffees to Layla, Dolly, and Conall, then one to me.
"Thank you. But I didn't order yet." I examine the to-go cup in my hand. Ada's eyes flick to Layla's, which flick to Conall's. Dolly sips her drink and examines a spider on the windowsill.
