Sounds like a small-town success story if you ask me.
It should be. Although not in this little social circle.
Because in our little corner of the beach, everything has gone very, very quiet.
Mackenzie’s hands clench into fists as she stares down the blonde who dared defy her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh honey.” Brittany’s smile is sharp and dangerous. “I’ve got receipts. Emails. Screenshots. Text messages. That thing you said about the town council last year? Recorded. All of it. Scheduled and ready to post. Consider it my gift to you. Transparency.”
Just stop talking, Mack,Sloane thinks to herself.Stop digging. Walk away.
Mackenzie’s face goes from pale to red.
“You listen to me, Brittany Vanderbilt.” Her voice is loud enough to carry across the entire beach. “If you post onesingle thing about me, my town, or my life, I will make you regret it. I will ruin you. Do you understand me? I will END you.”
This time the entire party goes silent.
Every conversation stops, and every single head turns our way.
Brittany holds up her phone with her screen facing out, and we can clearly see she’s recording the entire event.
“Did everyone catch that?” She looks around with a wide and victorious smile. “Because I sure did.”
“Why, you little—” Mackenzie lunges and I grab her arm before she can assault the woman.
“Don’t—” I say.
But Brittany is already walking away, laughing with her phone still in hand, calling out to someone about needing another drink.
Don’t we all at this point. And I don’t even hit the hard stuff.
The crowd doesn’t break apart so much as fracture into uncomfortable clusters. Music starts again, but for some reason, even that feels quieter. Someone makes a joke that has people groaning. The entire moment deflates slowly, leaving behind a residue of awkwardness.
But I saw that homicidal look on Mackenzie’s face.
And so did everyone else.
Our little petty group disbands and Mackenzie and I meander around the event for the next solid hour. I can’t believe she’s actually babysitting me so that I don’t stumble over another body. I feel like a convict chained to a security guard, watching Mackenzie schmooze the crowd like only the mayor of a small town cando. She’s good at it, I’ll give her that—shaking hands, laughing at jokes that aren’t funny, remembering names and asking about people’s kids.
Funny how she never asks about my kid.
I’m less good at it. Mostly I just smile and nod and try not to trip over Fish, who’s decided to shadow me for reasons known only to her.
You’re tense,Bizzy,Fish mewls.Something is off about this entire night. And I certainly do not approve.
“Join the club,” I mutter.
Near the dunes, I spot two blondes—one tall, and one shorter and clearly agitated. The shorter one is gesturing, talking fast. The tall blonde is on her phone, scrolling, barely looking up.
It’s Brittany. And the nervous blonde woman from earlier with the Jack Russell.
I watch as the blonde woman says something, voice rising even though I can’t hear the words from here. Brittany doesn’t even glance up from her phone. Just keeps scrolling.
Then she walks away. Mid-conversation. Just turns and leaves the other woman standing there, arms wrapped around herself, looking devastated.
The Jack Russell at her feet lets out a sharp bark.
Hooman is upset! Must fix with a cuddle puddle! Also, is that a hot dog?
