Secrets in Sunset Beach 1 Page 2

  Heather hummed, pressing her gloss-shiny lips together, eyes following Derick's line of sight. Her head tilted, hair falling from where it rested on her back, hanging like a golden waterfall at her side. "Friend of yours?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  "Brother," Derick replied, muttering the word into his next – and last – shot. He pushed the empty glass toward Heather and she took it with another smile, setting it by one of the shiny chrome sinks instead of refilling it.

  "Oh, yeah," she said brightly. "You guys have the same… look." She gestured between them, humming.

  Derick snorted. No, they didn't. Jake looked and acted like a surfer dude – that was his job, renting outboards and jet skis to the tourists and those who were too young to drink and wanted to take their daddy's haul out onto international waters. In contrast, Derick was a goddamn Boy Scout. He'd had to cut his hair short and keep himself well-groomed for his last job because the boss man was the kind of guy who looked like he'd stepped right out of GQ Magazine and didn't tolerate scruffiness.

  "Don't give me that," Heather said with another eye roll, wiping down the spot between Derick's elbows and tucking the edge of her bar cloth into her shorts at the hip. She folded her arms, tossed her hair with a sigh, resting against her side of the bar. "Come on, Derick, Mister Tall Dark and Broody, tell me your story."

  Derick sighed. "I got fired today," he confessed, rubbing his hand over his mouth again. He winced at the scent of tequila staining his fingertips – shit, had he turned into a sloppy drunk already? Maybe he was more like his mother than he thought.

  Heather blinked, lips turning down at the corners, brow creasing as she gave another sympathetic nod. "Ah." Her head tilted. "And I gather you don't exactly have job offers rolling in."

  "To be fair, I haven't tried yet," Derick replied. But that was the problem in a place like this – paradise only had a few ways to make money. Either you served the locals, or you served the tourists. Sometimes, you were lucky enough to dip your finger in both pies. He sighed. "But, no, I'm not exactly holding out high hopes." Maybe if he was lucky, Jake's boss would take pity on him and get him temporary work, but that was just buying time until the rent check came due. Even with his brother and roommate helping with the bills, prices were high on Sunset Beach, and the landlords were unforgiving.

  Heather's lips pursed. "Well," she began, stretching out the word, turning her head to eye the bar with a considering air. "You any good at mixing drinks?"

  Derick frowned, lifting his head to blink at her.

  "I could use the extra help. Tonight is just the start of the peak season, and soon I'm going to be up to my ass with people wanting to get as drunk as possible. Even your shitty water-beer will do that." They shared a smile, Derick's cheeks turning pink as, once again, he thought about that night. "Most of them don't want anything more complicated than a mojito, though, and I can teach you how to make those if you don't already know." She arched a brow, met his gaze. "You'll make minimum wage, hourly, we split our tips on even-shift nights, but if you're good and you ever work solo, you'll keep all of it. What do you say?"

  "I…" Derick gaped at her, and she smiled. "Really?"

  "Why not?" Heather asked.

  "I mean…" Derick's cheeks heated, and he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "You barely know me."

  "If you promise not to drink on the job and never call me ma'am, then I'm okay with that," Heather replied with a shrug, earning a laugh from Derick. "You'll have to drop the sad puppy act, though I'm sure there are girls – and guys – who would eat that shit up. It doesn't work for me."

  Derick grinned. "Well, damn. Alright then."

  Heather beamed at him and reached out to shake his hand, sealing the deal. "Alright, Derick, Mister Sad Eyes. You start tomorrow. Be here at three so I can show you the ropes before we get busy."

  "Thanks, Heather," Derick said, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. "I won't let you down."

  Chapter Three

  H eather's back ached, her feet were killing her, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and pass out for the next six hours. She owned this bar on Sunset Beach, one of the hottest tourist traps along the coast. The Red Hummingbird was her pride and joy, and sure, it had been a gift from her father and technically she was still paying off the lease, so it was in his name, but it was her bar, and she doted on it with all the love and care a mother would give her baby.

  Last call had been an hour ago, and people lingered as they were known to do. One of the stragglers was Chasity, Heather's former college roommate and current best friend. She was the embodiment of California Dreamin', slim and spunky and would flirt with anything that had a pulse.

  Chasity hopped up on the bar as Heather was finished wiping it down, stacking glasses in a rack to put through the dishwasher. From the back, Marcos showed up, silent as a shadow but big as a bull, deceptively quiet as he took the rack from her with a shy smile. Marcos was a good kid, working his way through community college. He always showed up on time and never caused any trouble. Because of that alone, Heather loved him, even though he didn't seem capable of mustering up more than one word when she tried to talk to him.

  "Heather, baby," Chasity sighed, swinging her legs up on the bar and resting on her outstretched arms like a diva about to do a number from the back of a piano. She sighed, tipping her head back, bleached hair falling down to brush over the bar. Chasity turned to grin at her, fluttered her dark lashes, and drummed her fingers against the surface of the bar. "Can I get a drink?"

  "You should have done that before last call," Heather replied with a smile. "And I'm still considering kicking your ass for your stunt tonight. You can't serve drinks, Chasity, even when I'm not here."

  Chasity pouted, and after a moment, Heather relented and bent down, pulling two beers from the cooler beneath the soda fountain. She found a bottle opener and popped them both, handing one to Chasity, who took it with a grateful sigh, stealing a straw from the square box by the soda fountain and sinking it over the rim, so that when she tipped it back, she could chug the whole thing.

  "And that," Heather said lightly, "is why I don't give you the good shit, you heathen."

  Chasity giggled, pulling her heels up so she could rest her arms on her knees, idly toying with the straw around her empty bottle head. Her lips pursed as she scanned those who remained, and she sighed absently, running a hand through her hair.

  "Saw you talking to that guy earlier," she said. Heather smiled. "New meat? He was cute."

  "His name's Derick," Heather told her. "He's going to start working here."

  Chasity snapped her head to one side, long hair flying around her in an arc. "No. Way," she gasped, eyes wide. Heather really shouldn't have given her more to drink. Chasity leaned forward, pawing at Heather's arm. "You got me delivery? I love you."

  Heather huffed. "No," she said, smacking Chasity's hand lightly, feeling like she was scolding a dog that wouldn't stop barking at the mailman. "Hands off. You have plenty of other people you can have fun with. You're not ruining another employee of mine."

  "Hey, Brandon came onto me first," Chasity said, still pouting. Heather arched a brow and fixed her with a disbelieving look. Saying someone came onto Chasity first was like blaming the ground for getting wet when it rained. Chasity was one of those overly-friendly party girls; she saw a mark and hunted, like a cat with a mouse.

  "Regardless, he's off-limits," Heather said.

  Chasity huffed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as though praying for patience. In her contemplative, drunken silence, Heather continued cleaning the bar. One thing was nice about the slow season; the mess tended to be much lighter. It would only be a case of mopping the floor once everyone went home and she'd be able to leave.

  As the thought occurred to her, she straightened and yanked on the bell behind the bar loud enough to cause the constant chatter of her remaining patrons to momentarily go silent. "Alright, everyone! You don't have to g
o home but you can't stay here. Finish up and move out!"

  She turned away to see Chasity eyeing the 'meat.' She evidently didn't find anyone to her liking because she sighed and slung her legs on the public side of the bar, hopping down. She was a tiny thing, barely five feet, only passable as normal height because Heather didn't think she owned a single pair of shoes that had a smaller heel than six inches. Her skirt rode up as she settled, and she tugged it down low enough to reveal the topmost hem of her red panties, winking at a passing man as he caught sight of her. He grinned wolfishly at her but was pulled away by his friends.

  "Too many shy boys," she sighed. "I can't wait until the tourists come back. City boys know how to really make a girl scream."

  "You would know," Heather muttered, fetching an empty rack and grabbing the rounds of abandoned drinks, the garbage can on wheels pulled behind her so she could shove napkins, straws, and other trash into it as she made her circuit. Chasity prowled along behind her.

  "Let's think about this practically," Chasity said, putting her elbows on the table Heather was trying to clean, fingers steepled, nails touching her lips. "New guy might be a great worker, but he might not be. Which means he better be earning his keep in other ways. Wouldn't it benefit you, as a smart businesswoman, to know what kind of investment you were getting into?"

  Heather's brows rose. "You're not seriously telling me you want to sleep with him as part of the interview process."

  "I just want my bestie to get the bestie," Chasity replied with false innocence, blinking coyly up at her. "What's the worst that could happen?"

  "You could break his heart like you break everyone's heart," Heather replied with a fond smile. "Besides, I don't shit where I eat."

  "You are impossible," Chasity said with an aggravated huff. She tossed her hair, put her hands on her hips, and fixed Heather with another of her patented pouts. "Fine. Go be a perfect boss and leave me to my boredom. I suffer so much for your sake."

  "Uh-huh. You need me to get you an Uber?" Heather asked. Chasity didn't make it a habit of going home in her own car, but since she hadn't found an eager steak to gnaw on tonight, Heather wasn't about to let her drive home as unsteady as she was.

  "Sure," Chasity said. She patted Heather on the shoulder and gave her a winning smile. "You're the best!"

  Chapter Four

  D erick did not live in a nice house. It wasn't a bad house, as far as things went. Paradise would never suffer to have something as dangerous as mediocrity sitting like a pimple on its nose, but it was far from the high rises and mansions that sat clustered along the shoreline with those stunning ocean views, the likes of which had given Sunset Beach its name.

  It was a two-story, unassuming and drab, but it was comfortable, and for many years, it had been home.

  He lived with Jake and his cousin, Jimmy. Jimmy was older by almost a decade, one of those guys people liked to use as cautionary tales. He looked like he used to be a roadie for an indie band that spent most of their time smoking weed in their parents' garage and called it 'the process.'

  Jimmy smoked weed, too. The house stank of it, and Derick coughed, waving away the smoke clouds from in front of his face as he fixed Jimmy's wide-mouthed smiling face with a glare of his own. "Looks like you had a good night," he said, letting his backpack fall from his shoulder to a heap of their discarded shoes by the door. Jake had managed to escape with all his teeth, two hundred bucks richer. He sauntered past Derick and sprawled out on the second half of their hammered-flat futon, soundlessly asking Jimmy to pass the blunt over.

  Jimmy took another inhale but must have been in a gracious mood, for he handed it over with another smile. "Hell, yeah," he crowed, clapping his hands together once they were freed. "Got my hands on a SanFran's car. Took it to the shop, got it stripped. Fuckin' golden payout."

  Derick frowned, but moral high roads were for the people who could afford rent. And food. There had been too many times when Derick and Jake had been lacking in funds for both. Jimmy's means of making money were hardly ever kosher, but they were certainly constant.

  "You need to move on from the cars soon, dude," Jake said, smoke fogging his mouth as he fought the urge to cough, handing the blunt back. His breath hitched, skinny chest heaving as he sat back and blew his plume out to the ceiling, deliberately as slow as possible to avoid irritating his lungs. "Boys in blue will come knockin' again before you know it."

  Jimmy hummed. Their living room consisted of the futon, a box television on a shitty Walmart shelf that bowed in the middle, and a giant beanbag chair that Derick was pretty sure pre-dated him. It had a permanent bowl from many bodies. He went to it, settling in with a sigh. He hadn't driven home, he wasn't stupid, but Jake wasn't exactly known for passing his driving test on the first try and the passing headlights on the streets had made him dizzy. Now, combined with the stench of weed smoke and the shots all in such a short span of time, the room was spinning. He closed his eyes.

  "Derick got a new job," Jake said, in the silence.

  "Oh?"

  Derick hummed. "Yeah. Gonna tend bar."

  Jimmy laughed. "Hell, yeah, man! Bars are perfect places to get some extra cash, grass, and ass. Good on ya!"

  Derick winced. Why was Jimmy always so damn loud?

  "Who's the new boss?" Jimmy asked. He knew everyone in this town; it was part of his game to know everything and everyone's business. He knew who was sleeping with who, who had the money and the means to move product, and where the hot gossip was centered around.

  Derick blew out a breath. "Her name's Heather."

  Derick opened his eyes at the stunned silence that greeted him and found Jimmy staring at him like he had just grown a second head. "No fucking way," Jimmy breathed out and sucked in another deep lungful from his blunt, choking, wincing. He leaned forward and stubbed it out in the little glass tray on the floor by the futon. "You don't mean Heather Montgomery?"

  Derick frowned. "Maybe?"

  "The hot bitch who runs the Hummingbird?"

  "Don't call her that," Derick snapped, fingers curling against his knees. "But yeah, I guess so. She hired me at the Hummingbird."

  "Dude, oh my God, this is great news," Jimmy said, clapping his hands together again, giving Derick a wide, gummy smile. "Her family is richer than God, man. You gotta get in nice and friendly with her and milk that cash cow for all it's worth."

  Derick scowled at his cousin. "It's just a job," he said flatly.

  "Are they really that loaded?" Jake asked, eyes wide. He couldn't hide when he was high for shit – his eyes were already red, his voice slurring. Lightweight.

  Jimmy nodded excitedly. "Yeah, I hear the dad shits gold," he replied with a laugh. "Drives the hottest little Corvette I've ever seen. God, if I could get my hands on that car we'd be set for life." He sighed, fixing Derick with another smile, like a wolf that had caught sight of a lone sheep. "I'm telling you, man, rich girls are the worst but they're also the best. You get in good with the family and we'll be rollin' in it."

  "Eat shit, Jimmy," Derick replied. His head hurt, and he was tired. He shoved himself awkwardly out of the beanbag, dusting himself off. "I'm going to bed."

  "Good night, sweet prince!" Jimmy called, giving him the Queen's wave as Derick headed to the stairs. Derick flipped him off over his shoulder, earning another laugh, and dragged himself up the stairs. The carpet was fraying at the top, and he scuffed at the strands with his toe, mouth twisting in distaste.

  There were three rooms upstairs, though calling all of them bedrooms was generous. Derick's room was just large enough to fit a bed and a desk. It had a closet built into the wall at the foot of his bed, only enough room for him to slide between and shed his shirt and belt, kicking off his shoes and socks. He collapsed onto the bed with a sigh as the room started to spin again. Damn Jimmy and his contact high. Weed made Derick nauseous; it always had.

  He just hoped Heather didn't think to make him take a drug test. God knew he wouldn't pass it, living with th
e likes of his cousin.

  Chapter Five

  H eather lived in a gated community right on the beach, a dock in her backyard allowing a straight shot to go running out and jumping straight into the cool water. When she was a kid, she and her mother would often spend their mornings in the garden or lazing around on the dock watching the tide come in and the pleasure yachts sail leisurely by.

  Now, Heather sat on the end of the dock, her toes in the water, sighing, head tilted up to feel the sun on her face. No matter how late the shift ran when she worked at the bar, she always tried to wake up in time for the sunrise. Sunsets had given the beach its name, and they were beautiful, oranges and purples like fireworks, but the sunrise was pastel blues and baby-soft pink, a perfect greeting to any new day.

  She tilted her head, hearing footsteps approach, and lifted her sunglasses from her eyes to squint up at her father. Rod Montgomery was an impressive man, both in stature and bank account balance. He was always impeccably dressed and today was no exception. Heather didn't spend a lot of her time with the kind of people who wore three-piece suits at dawn, and even now her father was dressed down in a blue blazer and slacks, a pale shirt open at the collar to give him room to breathe.

  "Hi, Daddy," she greeted him, eagerly accepting his offered glass of iced tea. He smiled at her, bending down to pat her head as she sipped at her drink. "What's up?"

  "Just wanted to check in on you, that's all," Rod replied. "How's the bar?"

  Heather hummed. "Good. Hired a new guy last night to help me with the rush."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah. His name's Derick. Seemed like a good enough guy, though I'll be putting him through the paces today."