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It’s crazy what sells dolls.
“I don’t know why you don’t hire someone to mow the lawn. I’m sure there’s some kid who would do it for twenty bucks.” Lawson stretches his arms over his head and yawns.
I poke him in the stomach, hard. “Maybe you should mow a few lawns instead of drinking all those beers, brother. You’re getting soft.” That’s untrue, but for a guy who likes to dress like a hippie and pretend he gives zero fucks about anything, he spends a lot of time in front of a mirror.
Lawson bats my hand away. “Fuck off. My abs are steel.”
I head inside for a minute and grab the binoculars. Trip, my dog—whose full name is Tripod, because of his three-legged status—comes back outside with me. I need to take him for a run soon or he’s going to go stir-crazy. He might only have three legs, but it doesn’t slow him down. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to stop at the rental again.
“You creeping on the hotties?” Lawson asks as I drop into the chair next to him.
“I’m keeping an eye on our properties.” I scan the beach. Rian’s bikini isn’t difficult to spot.
She’s lying on her stomach, pen poised between her lips, feet crossed over each other, legs swinging.
“You mean, you’re keeping an eye on those girls renting out sixty-nine. Are they hot?” He grins like a perv.
“So you know that girl who hit my car in the grocery store parking lot?”
“How the hell could I forget? You bitched about it enough.”
“Did I mention she’s a twin?”
“No. You did not. Are they hot?” He takes off his sunglasses. “I wonder what a threesome with twins would be like. Do you think it gets confusing?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Oh, come on. I bet you’ve thought about it, though, right? I mean, how could you not? Two hot girls who look the same, taking turns riding you. A threesome with twins is going on my bucket list.”
I give my brother a look. “You do get how messed up that is, right? That’s considered incest.”
“They’d be doing me, not each other. So it’s fine.”
“I think you need to stop subscribing to porn sites.”
“I only watch the free stuff. Anyway, back to the twins you’re not going to have a threesome with, which is really too bad.” After a few seconds of silence, he makes a go-on motion with his hands and folds them under his chin.
“They’re the ones staying in beach house sixty-nine.”
“No fucking way!” He grabs for the binoculars. “Gimme those. Dude, if you’re not gonna try and get in there, I sure as hell am.”
“There’s not a chance in hell either one of them would sleep with you.” At least I hope not. Especially since I’d like to be the one to get Rian into a bed eventually.
Lawson punches me in the side and nabs the binoculars, but I get him in a headlock. He loses his hold on them and they hit the deck, bounce once, and then slide through the three-inch gap between the glass panel and the bottom of the deck, landing on the ground ten feet below us.
“You dumbass! Now how am I supposed to check them out?” He makes no move to find out if the binoculars survived. I’m pretty sure they’re broken based on the fall.
“You’re not. We don’t have time for you to cross twins off your bucket list this weekend. We’ve got an open house tomorrow.”
“Yeah, about that. I think we might want to reconsider selling.” He settles back in his chair.
“What? I put weeks into getting that place ready. What’s the point of holding onto it?” More than that, the financial gain from selling is far more substantial upfront than rental fees. I’m not currently pulling in a salary while I’m off. I have money in my bank account, lots actually, but part of the benefit of flipping the house is having more capital on hand to make new purchases.
Lawson lifts his sunglasses and gives me his chill out look. “Just hear me out before you shit a pile of bricks. I know originally we were planning to flip, but what if we could capitalize on the summer rental market?”
“We already have sixty-nine as a rental.” Law and his grand schemes. He always has one going.
“So what’s one more to take care of, just for the summer? It’s prime rental time. People want to be on the beach in the Hamptons. It’s a smart move.”
“I don’t know, Law. Aren’t you kind of screwing the agent out of a commission?”
“No. I actually got some insider info that the Franklin house is going up for sale this weekend and it’s right down the beach from sixty-nine. It’s a smart buy. The Franklin place is in decent shape; all we’d need to do is some minor renos to make it palatable for renters. Then we bank all the money we make this summer. So if the agent can get us in to see the Franklin house first, they’d still get the commission.”
“Is that possible?”
He shrugs. “I’ll call and see what she can do.”
I wait for him to pick up his phone, but he just sits there. “Don’t you think you should do that now?”
“It’s not a rush.”
“The open house is tomorrow. And we want to know if it’s a rumor or if it’s actually true that the property is coming up for sale.”
“Oh, it’s true. I stopped by the Franklins’ yesterday. Their granddaughter was over. We had a nice little chat.” He grins and wags his eyebrows.
“Christ, Law, where’s your damn moral compass?”
“Calm your tits, her granddaughter is twenty-three. She thinks I’m supersweet. Gave me all the details and made me promise not to say a word.”
I shake my head and push up out of the chair. “You should probably still call, especially if you want to get in there first and make an offer.” I leave him to it, annoyed at the abrupt change in plans. Working with Lawson is a lot like riding on a roller coaster. I’m willing to put up with it because I see the potential benefits of real estate and rentals. I’ve been working for my dad for five years and I like it less and less. Working with Lawson might not be easy, but I actually enjoy the renovation side of this, and the rental part hasn’t been difficult so far, so I can see the allure.
As much as I enjoy what I’m doing, I don’t like the idea of letting my father down, not when he’s worked so hard to give us this life. I don’t want to appear ungrateful for all I have, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing something I hate either.
CHAPTER 8
JUST BEACHY
RIAN
At five thirty Marley decides she’s had enough of the volleyball boys, and we head back to the beach house.
She grabs my arm as she stumbles up the steps and flops down on the couch once we’re inside. “Oh wow, it’s so much cooler in here.”
“You should put on some after-sun lotion.” Neither of us is particularly fair, but she’s been out there for hours and I doubt she thought to reapply. I cross through to my bedroom and root around in my overnight bag for the aloe lotion. By the time I return, she’s relocated to her bed and she’s already passed out. I adjust her position so she’s on her side and put a garbage can beside her in case she can’t make it to the bathroom. I didn’t monitor her consumption, but she’s had far more to drink than me.
