The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(8)
Excellent. Sloane has decided to be as judgmental as possible, and Drew has decided to bait her. Just what this shitshow of a trip needs.
My parents arrive with plates from the buffet, oblivious to the growing tension at the table, and my mother pulls out her trusty guidebook—Oahu, The Adventure of a Lifetime—which she opens before sliding it my way.
“The hike for today is called Pillboxes,” she says. “There are these small military bunkers built into a mountain. Amazing views.”
The Baileys have never taken a relaxed family trip once so this doesn’t surprise me, but the trail looks steep as shit. Not impossible, but also nothing my mother should be attempting at the moment.
“Mom,” I say carefully, “this looks like a lot to bite off. Maybe today can be more about relaxation?”
“I’m fine,” she says, refusing to meet my eye. “I think that first picture is deceptive.”
I look to my father for backup. He’s the last person I want to be siding with, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He’s too busy checking his email to notice.
Sloane taps on her watch with a frown. “I may have to bow out. I scheduled a manicure for ten.”
Drew’s eyes cut to mine and she smirks. Oh, so the buffet is ‘American excess’, her expression says, but not a manicure in the hotel spa? Her gaze flicks to Sloane’s wrist. Not that $400 smartwatch? I knew she wasn’t going to let this go, and what sucks is, she has a point.
“Dad,” I say, willing my voice to be calm, “what are your thoughts?”
He glances from me to the book and sighs. “Beth, Josh is right. We’ll take a look when we get there, but let’s think about just going to the beach instead.”
A shadow comes over my mother’s face. I want that shadow not to confirm every one of my suspicions. She flicks it away soon enough, but I can’t quite forget I saw it.
And in the meantime, Sloane is looking between me and Drew again, as if we are an exceedingly difficult equation she’s determined to answer. “I’ll reschedule my manicure,” she says. “It’s fine.”
Sunlight strikes the table in a blinding flash of heat and several birds swoop in, attempting to steal food from the plates. My father ignores it all, back on his phone, and my mother, for once, can’t summon the energy to shoo them away. Sloane, on the other hand, jumps up from the table as if the three small birds are something out of a Hitchcock movie and pulls antibacterial gel from her pocket.
And Drew is laughing at the whole thing, licking chocolate from her perfect lips.
I close my eyes, wondering if there’s any way to escape our luxurious vacation and just go back to work.
6
DREW
We are taken by van—I ride in front this time, which makes sense because a) carsickness and b) I’m the dateless fifth wheel on a couples’ outing. Beth has the driver drop us off in Kailua, which isn’t even the same town where our hike begins, insisting the walk will be scenic. It’s a lot for anyone, and Beth just finished her final round of chemo two months ago. I don’t understand why she’s driving herself so hard—certainly, they’ve got the money to come back later on when she’s feeling better if there’s something she regrets missing out on.
For twenty minutes, we walk past white sand and blue, blue sea with two small looming mountains jutting out of the water just ahead—the Mokulua Islands, per Beth and her guide book. Everyone but me is sipping their water—I chose not to bring any solely because Joshua reminded me to, which irked me. Hopefully, the Sour Patch Kids I brought instead will be a decent substitute.
We turn off the main road to face the mountain at last. It’s undeniably beautiful, those jagged green cliffs going up and up—and I have no desire to go even a step farther. My only hope of getting out of this involves convincing everyone not to climb.
“That mountain is steep,” I suggest.
“Unlike most mountains,” says Josh, even more snide than usual, and I picture him pinned beneath me with my hands around his neck.
Drew, I can’t breathe, he’d say.
I know, I’d reply. All part of my long-range plan to steal your silver.
“I wouldn’t mind just sitting on the beach instead,” says Sloane. When Jim and Beth agree with her, relief whistles through me. I’m going to get out of this and I’ll never have to admit anything to Joshua.
“I’m happy to do whatever you guys want,” I chime in.
“I’m going to hike it,” Joshua says to me, eyes holding a gleam that is perhaps twenty percent more evil than their normal gleam. He pulls out one of the four water bottles he stashed in his daypack and splashes some on the back of his neck. “But you’re probably tired after this morning, so you should definitely rest.”
My arms fold over my chest. “I’m not the least bit tired.” This is absolutely a lie. I took so much ibuprofen this morning I risked an overdose, and I still feel like shit.
He sweeps a hand toward the trail in a you first gesture, and I stomp up the dirt path. The trail is steep as hell. I move as fast as possible to get away from him, but he catches me with ease, his long legs unfairly capable of taking three strides for every one of mine.
“How’s it going, slugger?” he asks about five minutes in.