I called Owen that night, something just wasn’t right. 

“Owen, what’s going on down here? It’s like an episode of The Stepford Wives.”

“What do you mean?” Owen sounded sincere. “You met my friends, they’re great. Sure, we have a tight community, but we’re not drinking some magical potion. We’re just nice folks. That’s why I thought you’d like it here.”

“Everyone has been great – super really. But no one has asked me about what I do, what I like, or anything personal. They all just tell me they’re glad I’m here like I’m some messiah.”

“Rusty, do you hear yourself? You’re sounding a little, I’m sorry to say, all-important.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just not used to this kind of friendliness.”

“I told you, this is a nice community.” Owen laughed a bit. “Just relax. You’ll find out soon enough, that not everyone here is that nice. We’ve got jerks here too.”

“Guess I’m used to the Jersey mentality – rude.”

“Exactly. Say, what are you doing next Saturday, the twelfth?” Owen asked.

“No plans.”

“I’m meeting some friends for breakfast, we have this annual thing. It’s corny.”

“Yeah, cool. I’d like that.” I relaxed a bit. I guess living in Jersey has jaded me somewhat.

“Great, I’ll come by and pick you up. We’re meeting at this new place out on the highway.”

“Cool, see you then.”

“Hey, Rusty, we meet early, so don’t go out before I get there. Oh, I want to see your place.”

“It’s nice, and the neighbors are super friendly.

“Cool, I’ll see you at eight.” Owen signed off. 

I was glad I called Owen. It put the friendliness in perspective. Rehoboth was not like New Jersey. 

The smile on Ella Evans’ face was small, but Dawn could see the pure joy there. They were browsing the Antiques Mall in Lewes and the shop transported Ella back in time. It was exactly like her grandmother’s house, filled with porcelain figurines, chipped china, and dusty books. Her grandmother hung paintings like the antique shop, frame to frame. It even smelled like Grandmom Daisy’s, dusty and worn.

“You should buy this place.” Dawn, Ella’s best friend, elbowed her.

“Right? My grandmother’s house looked just like this.” Ella waved her arm without knocking anything over.

“Is your grandmother from here?”

“Rehoboth and her house looked just like this. I loved it there. It was the only time I wasn’t scolded for touching things – I was that kid.” Ella smirked. “My grandmother would even get on the floor and play with me with porcelain figurines, like that one there.” She pointed to a Hummel. “She’d make up fantastic adventures. We spent hours in castles, on islands. My favorite tale, hers too, was with this romantic artist who painted our portraits as we posed in gorgeous landscapes. 

Hannah moved to the next aisle, it was filled with colorful glass, deep reds, and blues, some that glowed green. Unlike Ella, she touched nothing. They moved on to the next aisle which was case after case jammed with tarnished trinkets and silver spoons. 

“Polish silver? Ugh!” Dawn shuddered.

“Look at that!” Ella pointed at a case. 

There, on a tattered velvet cloth lay a tarnished brass key with a faded pink ribbon laced through the filagree end.

“What?”

“There, see that key? My grandmother had one just like that. I found it one summer and wore it like a necklace. She almost fainted when she caught me.”

“Really? She worried about wearing a key but not about bouncing Hummels across the floor?”

“Can I show you something?” A bespectacled grey-haired man greeted them.

“No.” Dawn thanked the merchant.

“And you Miss? You have your eye on something.” He smiled.

“My grandmother had a key just like that one.” She turned to Dawn. “It had engraved letters on one side. What were they?” Ella smiled at the memory.

The gentleman fumbled through his key ring and unlocked the case. “Which one, Miss?”

“That one, with the pink ribbon.”

Gingerly, he picked up the key and held it out like a host. “A letterbox key. During the war, ladies guarded love letters in them.”

“I was wearing her key one day…” Ella turned away from the shopkeeper. “…when all of a sudden grandmom came in the back door. She was supposed to be on the beach with my mother. I panicked. There was this little door thing in the bathroom that opened to ‘my secret hideout’. It was just a space under the stairs. It was dark so I never went far from the door until that day. Of course, Grandmom came home to use the bathroom so I pulled the door closed and kept crawling. When I passed the stairs, there was a space, maybe two feet wide with a vent at the end. I crawled fast and banged my knee into this metal box. Guess what the key went to?” 

“Really?”

“I haven’t thought about this in decades.” Ella caressed the key. “There was just enough light to see. There were letters and drawings, and that photo! Oh my, I was only seven or eight so it shocked me. A picture of a man carrying a woman, they were both nude.”

“Grandma porn! Did you read the letters?”

“No, the vent sprang open, and there was my grandmother, angrier than a hornet.” 

“What’d she do?”

“She pulled me out, slammed the box shut, and put the key in her pocket. I think she even cursed. She didn’t speak to me for days.”

Not long after sitting in the sand, the ball glanced off the shoulder of a younger kid and bounced right to me. I picked it up to toss it back but this handsome guy who was about my height with jet-black eyes and a brilliant smile, ran toward me. He stopped, smiled wide, and thanked me for the ball. I smiled back, he was very cute.

“You want to play, we need one more to even out the teams.”

I looked around, others were watching the match, and most looked like better candidates than me. I declined, saying it was a lot of fun watching. 

“If you think this is fun,” he pointed south, “be at Poodle Beach tomorrow before 10, 9 would be better.”

I looked at him sideways, he laughed at my apprehension.

“I promise, it’ll be worth it. But don’t be late.” He gave me a few more details before running back to his game. 

I watched, I enjoyed seeing him play because he was now showing off. Every time he made a play, which was more often than before, he looked over to see if I saw it. I applauded when he scored a point, he’d smile and wink or nod back. I laughed when he messed up or fell down, that made him laugh and smile even more. 

Not long after, my girlfriends came to get me, they were heading back. It was super hot; besides, we had plans to go out that night. So I waved at the guy but wasn’t sure he saw me. I looked once more as we reached the boardwalk. This time I know he saw me. He was watching me, hands on his hips with a forced frown. 

**

Surprised by the hundred or so people already there, I arrived at Poodle Beach just before nine. I set my chair and towel where the court met the traffic cones that formed a path to the boardwalk, right where, damn, I don’t know his name, told me to sit. I tried to keep some space next to me, my friends promised to come later. But by ten o’clock, there were hundreds, maybe a thousand people wedged uncomfortably close around the court, and me. The smell of sunscreen was overwhelming. 

A young couple who set up to my left, congratulated me, making comments like, “perfect seats” and “grand entrance”. They were so excited; they said this was their fifth year at the Drag Volleyball Tournament! 

I literally spit out a laugh. I knew it would be volleyball, but drag volleyball? What did that even mean? My neighbors laughed, calling me, “A virgin!” and “Wait, you’ll see.” 

At eleven-forty-five a crescendo from two tall speakers under a tent on the opposite side of the court announced the first team. The Flaming Flintstone Girls pranced down from the boardwalk on the traffic-cone-lined runway. The two “women” leading the procession carried a handmade banner. The ten, uh, well, um, guys?, following the banner, were dressed up as Wilma Flintstone. They looked more like Fred with boobs.

The, let’s just call them athletes, were dressed in cheap grass skirts, balloon-stuffed leopard print bras, and had foot-high beehive wigs. They waved like red carpet celebrities as they made their way to the sand court. As they passed, each had a number clipped to his back, making this, what, official? Really? I covered my mouth to hide my laughter.

But I stopped laughing for a second, then started laughing even louder when I saw the last Flaming Flintstone. It was the guy from the beach! He looked ridiculous in a short grass skirt (which showed off great legs) and huge balloons bulged out of his too-tiny bra. As he passed in front of me, I wasn’t the only one to notice his killer body. The crowd whistled and pointed. He just laughed and bowed. 

It’s odd, seeing Alaric Kinney leave the Christmas Shop. Even in July, it’s a popular store, selling beach-themed ornaments. The odd part was it was the fifth time I’d seen him – each time at closing and alone. I wasn’t spying, I have a second-floor apartment with a balcony across the street. On cool evenings, my wife and I enjoy sipping wine and watching the Rehoboth Avenue bustle. Besides, Alaric is hard to miss; he’s tall with the blondest hair. 

It may not sound so odd, but since joining the squad six years ago, he’s never been alone. He’s the most outgoing person and we have the emails to prove it. Since his very first day, Alaric has soared. He’s the first to show up for practice, he enters every completion, win or lose. He remembers little kids’ names, befriends vacationers, and has risen to the rank of lieutenant  – number three on the squad. More importantly, he’s the nicest person you’d ever meet; polite, thoughtful, with a warm heart.

At night, he’s always on the boardwalk or beach with friends or a girlfriend. He’s funny and enjoys life. But not this year, he’s kept to himself since returning in May.

Alaric’s also vital with squad training. In his third year, he started an exercise regiment that changed our entire program. As a freshman in college, he learned and showed us how to build a cohesive team while getting each member in shape. So it surprised the coach and me when Alaric didn’t step up to lead training again.

Alaric was quiet and serious. Well, he’s always been serious when it came to rescue, but nothing else. His distance worried me.

I watched Alaric cross the street, head down, hands in his pockets. I didn’t want to pry, but that changed the following day. It was early, almost seven. The squad trains on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Some residents come and join in. Alaric was late. Had he been running practice, being late would earn you a run to Dewey and back. 

Coach Corbitt pulled me aside.  “Alverez, what’s with Kinney?”

“I don’t know. He’s not himself.”

“Well, make him himself.” Corbitt paced in front of the squad and yelled, “Kinney, you’re late. A beach lap!” 

“I returned the following weekend and the week after that. Sydney and I called and texted every day, I was in love. 

“Well, one Saturday night in September, I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When I came back to the bedroom, the beast was on the bed in my spot. I tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. So I said ‘screw you’, and started to slide in between the dog. The next thing I knew, I was pinned to the floor, a two-ton paw on each shoulder and hot dog breath washing over my face.” Kyle sighed again.

“Jeesh, what happened?”

“Sydney struggled but got the dog off. But that was it. Later that week, Sydney called and suggested I not come down the following weekend, which turned into not coming down at all. We broke up before Thanksgiving.”

Craig shook his head and sighed too. He’d assumed Kyle had used too many of his lame-ass lines and Sydney finally couldn’t take it anymore. Then suddenly something caught Craig’s attention, something odd. Instinctively, he stiffened up, there was someone or something coming up fast. He snapped his head and leaped to the side like a basketball pro. Before his feet hit the sand, Kyle was flying through the air as if shot from a cannon. 

Arms flailing, feet kicking, Kyle landed face down in the cold surf. He spun around fast, pulling his sand-covered arms up to protect his face as a golden-fleeced beast pounced again, this time landing its two massive front paws directly on Kyle’s groin. 

The scream was ear-shattering and Kyle quickly snapped into the fetal position, his hands leaving his face and grabbing his groin, which was on fire. Craig screamed at the beast but kept backing away. He’d never seen such a massive dog if that’s what it was. It had to weigh two hundred pounds and was the size of a Waverunner. And it was standing sentry, nose to nose with Kyle, its tree-branch size tail wagging back and forth. 

Kyle opened his eyes and yelled. Without thinking, he rolled and propelled himself away, unfortunately, that was directly into the frigid ocean. But the icy water would not stop him, this was life or death. It also wasn’t stopping the bear of a dog, who bounded into the water behind him. Just as the dog reached Kyle, a huge wave the color of a Georgian peach crashed over him. The dog lurched forward as the wave slammed into them. When the wave passed, the dog stood and shook the water from his fur, not losing the torn shorts clamped in his jaw. Kyle stood, facing the beast, shivering, and covering his crotch. The dog glared back, wagging its tail. 

“Maddog, get back!” Kyle yelled. 

At five-thirty AM Christmas Eve, my doorbell rang. It was pitch black out. The bell rang twice more before I could throw on some pants and reach the door. I peeked out and my eyes shot open. There on my step was my dad – I flung the door open.

“Dad? What’s the matter? What happened?” I almost dragged him in. 

“Sandy,” He said, stepping in, a blast of frigid winter air race in with him. 

I squinted at him, he hadn’t called me Sandy since I was thirteen when I insisted on being called Alexander.

“Get dressed, slacks and a dress shirt, no tie.” He pulled off his coat.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve pressed me for years, it’s time you come with me.”

“You’re not serious?”

“Perfectly. But don’t ask me any questions. And while there, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”

“This is a joke, right?”

He stared at me, his face blank.

I turned but stopped. “I can’t! Elise and I have Christmas together.”

“She’s meeting us for dinner.”

“What?!”

“Mom and Elise talked. She’s driving home this afternoon.”

“You’re telling me mom called Elise behind my back?” The anger rose in my face. 

“If you don’t want to come, fine.” Dad looked at his watch and then at me.  “Elise called me.”

I stared at him for a long moment, shook my head, then ran to the bedroom. Pulling on a pair of slacks, as Dad called them, scenarios raced through my head. I dashed into the bathroom splashed water on my face and raked a comb through my hair. I never shaved so fast. 

“You look nice.” He smiled, as I re-entered the room. Then he turned and exited my apartment. 

I grabbed my coat and raced after him. As I closed the car door, I turned but before I could ask he reminded me, “No questions now.”

We drove east for a bit then turned south on the highway. “Rehoboth?” I asked but Dad didn’t answer, he changed the subject.

We talked as he drove, mostly about Elise and how excited Mom was to meet her. I told him that Elise was nervous to meet them which made him smile. As quiet as my father was, this was the longest we ever talked. It was worth being roused at such an ungodly hour. I learned more about my dad than I could have imagined. He spoke freely and I almost forgot about his lifelong secret.

Ninety minutes later, we approached Lewes. I smiled, remembering the summers we’d spent there.

Just then, the sky morphed from black to a gorgeous purple. I hadn’t seen a sunrise in ages but understood my dad had – every year. I watched the horizon and ran a narrative as the colors erupted. As we turned onto the main road into Rehoboth, the sky was a kaleidoscope of colors – amazing!

He slowed, hit the blinker, and turned. He was heading away from the places in Rehoboth I knew from my childhood. Then I realized, we hadn’t been to Rehoboth in years, and yet Dad hadn’t once looked at a map. He knew this route by heart. I looked, and his jaw clamped shut.

Two blocks later he pulled over and parked in front of a church. His face was without excitement, in fact, he looked sad. I was surprised, we’d never been religious. 

“Remember,” He reminded me as we got out, “don’t speak unless someone asks. And answer succinctly.” His expression was severe. I nodded, my eyes wide.

“You promise Abby’s giving me’er number?” Ugh! I’m negotiating with a rug rat now!

Alex laughed, and then he nudged me again and pointed. I looked back; Abby was waving her phone at me. 

I couldn’t get off that bench fast enough. I tossed my whistle to Alex and jumped in the hole. It was really deep, how did little rug rats do that? I leaned my head over the edge; no way my head was going under. They started pushing the sand in on me. It felt weird and I could see some Weekers watching. 

This other chubby kid, who sometimes played with the rats, came over to help. Before I knew it, they had me covered up to my neck. And I was stuck. That was enough, I looked like a tool and started to get up, but I was going to need help.

Alex came over laughing. I could feel him standing on me. He tapped the sand down, laughed, and said, “What you won’t do for a girl.” Then his eyes got wide, “Speaking of the devil.”

I tried to look but couldn’t. I didn’t wait long, her shadow washed over me first, and then I saw her amazing legs slowly step over and take Alex’s place. She stepped back until I saw her completely. Oh my God, she was even more beautiful up close. She’s got a perfect body, and that white bikini made my heart race. Her hair was down and it shined and glowed in the sun. This girl was making me sweat. It was hard to breathe and not because she was standing on my chest. 

“Hi, Fish, nice to meet you.”

I started but she stopped me.

“It took you all week to meet me.”

“You kept running away.”

“Me, run? Fish, I only run to keep in shape. I’d never run from a handsome guy like you.” 

She knelt down, I felt like an even bigger tool. There were like a dozen Weekers staring and I think some were laughing. 

“Well, I promised the kids.” She leaned in so close I could smell her perfume. And her eyes, wow, crazy, looked like gold coins. 

“Let me up for my phone.”

Abby smoothed out the sand with her hand. She kept her eyes on me and was smiling big. “So Fish,” 

I tried to block out the noise around me; I had to memorize her number. But then, with one beautiful finger, she scribbled in the sand and stood. 

“Call me. Maybe we can go out.” She winked and walked away. The Weekers started clapping.

“Wait, wait.” I started to get up but that would break up the sand and I couldn’t make out any numbers from that angle. “Abby, wait!”

Abby stopped and turned around. Fingers out, she held her hand to her ear and mouthed. “Call me.” 

“Alex, copy her number!” But Alex was looking down the beach.

“Fish, the boss is driving this way. You’d better get up.”

Womp! Womp! Womp!

The clattering of something heavy and metallic falling inside the wall behind him made Logan stop even though he wanted, no, needed to continue.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Hello?”

It hurt but Logan opened his eyes. His sight was hazy making it hard to focus. His head felt as if someone was drilling into his skull. 

“Hello?”

Logan struggled to his feet. He reached around and felt the back of his head, it was warm and sticky. Pressing his sleeve against the gash, he tried to stem the bleeding. He slowly crept through the darkened room, peering out through the windows, looking for the person who spoke. He crept up to each window from the side so as not to be seen. There was no one, of course, the apartment was on the second floor. 

Logan tip-toed down the stairs to the front door of his apartment. No one. Even his neighbor’s apartment was also dark. The guy who lived in the first-floor apartment worked nights and often stayed at his girlfriend’s place, for the few months that Logan had sublet the apartment, he was usually the only one in the house.

“Freaking great, now I’m hearing voices.” Logan staggered back up to his apartment. Each step amplified the pounding in his head. He flipped on the bedroom light and saw a splash of blood where his head had pummeled the wall. It dripped down over an air vent and onto the floor. He knelt at the spot, focusing on the blood when the tears started flowing. “I can’t even kill myself without screwing it up.” He rested his forehead on the dent he’d made in the wall. Tears mix with the blood on the floor. “I just want to die!”

“Hello?” The voice was more insistent this time.

Logan snapped up, which was excruciating. He’d heard the voice, muffled again as if coming from outside. But he lived on the second floor. 

“Who’s there? Leave me alone! Go away!” Logan held his head as he yelled.

“Listen, buddy, nothing could be that bad. Everything can be fixed.” The deep and somewhat muffled male voice said. 

“Who are you? Where are you?”

“Albert. Where are you?” Pamala’s voice was demanding.

“Pamala? What’s the matter?” Albert used her first name, something he reserved for his day off or when ticked off, which meant often.

“How soon can you be here.” 

“Be where?”

“Where else would I be?” She barked as she paced her penthouse apartment.

“I have no idea and frankly, I don’t care.”

“Albert, this is important. I need you to drive me…”

Albert cut her off. “NO!” He hurried into the kitchen, whispering into the phone. “It happens to be my day off. Take a taxi.”

“I can’t take a taxi.”

“I have a handsome man here and we have plans. Take a cab.” 

“Berty, please. I can’t take a cab.”

“Why not?”

“Rehoboth is too far. Besides, I need you with me. I’m nervous.”

Albert halted and straightened. He looked at his phone as if they had been Facetiming. “You are not, I repeat, NOT singing at that holiday thing.”

“It’s the Christmas concert and yes I am.”

“Do you have security set up?”

“I don’t need security. It’s my hometown.”

“Pam,” Now she knew he was serious. “The most famous singer in the world cannot just walk up like a choir girl and start singing. What songs will they play? Who’s doing the sound? The lights? Hair and make-up? Who’s handling security?”

“Berty! Stop! If you won’t, I’ll find someone who can take me.” Pamala’s tone was curt. She dropped the phone into the cradle, her lips pinched. She began pacing the room, making one full pass before the phone rang.  She saw the caller ID and grinned.

She took a deep breath and readied herself. In an overly gracious voice, she said, “Hello,” dragging out the “o” as Bette Davis might.

“Pam, you can’t be serious.”

“Berty, I’ve dreamed of singing in that bandstand since I was five. It’s why I became a singer. The entire town will be disappointed. How can I not do it?”

“Easy, stay home.”

“I’ll do no such thing. It’s time I realized my dream.” She hung up again, but this time she stayed seated in the chair beside the desk. She didn’t wait long.

“I already spoke to the mayor, he promised he’d keep it a secret, only the police know.” She said before giving Albert a chance to speak. “We’ll sneak in, no one will know until I’m on stage.” Her voice was no longer sharp, in fact, she almost sang her words. 

“Tell me this, what songs?”

“Christmas Carols.”

“Which ones?  What about rehearsal?”

“Albert, I’ve recorded twenty-two records, three were Christmas. I think I can sing a few Christmas carols.”

“And the band?”

“A local orchestra. It’ll be fun.”

“Pamala. It might sound fun now, but when you see the YouTube video of you singing the wrong words in front of four hillbillies playing a washboard and tin-can drums, you will regret this. And what about the Network? You think they’ll offer you the special after they see that?” Albert forced calm in his voice.

“Special be damned, Albert. Now, pack up that hottie and come get me.” She rose and walked through the apartment.

“Really! You’re inviting my boyfriend? You forbid me to bring anyone with me. You don’t even know him.”

“I have the internet, he’s cute.”

“You don’t know his name.”

“Albert!” She laughed as she stepped into her dressing room. The room was as large as an apartment and filled to the rafters with dresses, gowns, and costumes. “You’ve been dating the Channel Five weather guy for four months now.”

There was complete silence.

“Should I wear sequins? Or maybe leather?” She mused and ran a hand over the garments hanging along one side, Albert remained quiet. “No, red for Christmas.”

“You’re seriously doing this?” His voice was quiet and a little bit breathy.

“I am.”

“Fine! I’ll be there in an hour. Have you eaten?” 

“We can eat in the car.”

“You’re not eating in my car!”

“Wear something cheery, you’re always in black.”

“You make me wear black!”

“Albert, you’re wasting time.” Pamala laughed and hung up.

The crowd applauded and whistled. I would have left then but the spotlight that lit the stage shone directly over my shoulder. No way of leaving without being in the spotlight myself, so I stayed and made a plan to run out as soon as the spotlight went out.

Then, Lady Divine stepped out onto the small stage and was, well, neither a lady nor divine. She was at least six-two and carried over two hundred fifty pounds all squeezed into an ill-fitting gown. She had hair that dusted the rafters. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be frightened. But as the music rose to a volume drowning out the audience, Lady Divine’s mouth opened, and what came out was nothing short of splendid. It certainly wasn’t a woman singing but the guy rivaled Diana Ross, whose song he sang. 

I was beside myself, as was the crowd. He/she was fantastic. When the song ended and the spotlight moved, I’d forgotten about leaving until a young man in a polo shirt with an embroidered restaurant logo stepped over placing another beer on my table.

“On the house.” He smiled and backed away. 

The next song started and this time the performer sang to the backtrack of a Whitney Houston classic. And she, he, nailed it. He was awesome. I was bouncing with the crowd and singing along. I’d never been to a drag show before, it was fun. Screw Alec, I’d enjoy myself without him. 

I sipped my beer as the DJ announced the next performer. The spotlight came on and Miss Denver stepped out onto the stage. The crowd roared even before the spotlight found her. And when it did, wow, she was beautiful. Slender and fit, in a formfitting sequined gown. She had gorgeous curly blond hair and nails that sparkled. Lady Divine was certainly a guy in drag, but Miss Denver was one hundred percent woman. No guy could fill out a dress like that, she was stunning. 

When the music started, the crowd chanted as if it were an anthem. I knew the song, last summer’s pop hit. But something was wrong. When she started singing, her voice didn’t match the body. Her voice was too deep, like a tenor. But soon enough, I’d forgotten about that and let myself sink into the song. She was wonderful, with a stunning voice with emotions that came from her heart.

When the song ended, the crowd roared – so did I. 

Her smile couldn’t have been bigger. Denver bowed and thanked the audience. She then held her hands up to quiet the crowd. When the room was silent, she stepped up to the edge of the stage, and looked directly at me. She tilted her head and smiled. Her eyes, that smile – NO!

“Thank you!” Denver spoke and scanned the audience. “I need a favor, boys. I have a special song for someone very dear to me. But I can’t do it like this.” She waved her hands across her gown. “Would you mind if Denver doesn’t sing this one?”

“Little dude!” 

Harold spun, hands up. It took a second to recognize the bleached-blond surfer. 

“Baked, it’s you.” Harold exhaled.

“Still looking for your sub?”

“I saw it, swear.”

“I believe you, dude. You think it’s still here?”

“Why have Watch Towers if there are no submarines?”

“Right.” Baker laughed then put a sloppy cigarette in his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Harold looked around.

“Cheap place to sleep.” Baker sucked on his smoke.

Harold scanned the sea again. 

“Let me try, little dude.” Baker traded his smoke for the binoculars. Harold dropped the smoke as if it hurt.

Baker casually scanned the horizon but suddenly jumped up. “Dude, I saw it. A pipe with a mirror. I saw it!” Baker yelled. 

“Shhh! Let me see!” Harold nearly tore the binoculars off Baker’s neck. “Maybe they saw us. Hide.” Harold waved Baker behind the dune. 

Baker pulled out another smoke and lit up, inhaling deeply and giggling. Suddenly, Harold sprang back, knocking Baker to the sand. 

“Baked, Baked, there it is!” 

Baker sat up laughing. “Found your sub?”

“Look!” He handed over the binoculars, pointing. “Don’t stand, you’ll scare ‘em.” 

Baker held up the binoculars and unsteadily scanned the water, then froze. “Dude! Cool!”

“Gimme, gimme!” Harold pulled the binoculars back. Just then, as if in a movie, the submarine rose from the sea, its dark conning tower rising ominously into the air. 

Harold tried to tell Baker but even though his mouth was open, nothing came out. Instead, he passed the binoculars and jabbed his finger. Baker’s mouth opened, his bloodshot eyes even wider. “Dude. There’s men swimming.”

“Hide!” Harold whispered and pulled Baker down. 

Sahira seized Dimitri’s arm as he walked past, pulling him in. Surprised, Dimitri lost his balance, slamming into the side of the building. She pushed him against the wall, out of view.

“Deem, what’s wrong?”

Dimitri peered around the corner, there was a police car in front of the Night Owl Taproom where they worked.

“Sahira, I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“Damn it! You pulled the Temperance card. I told you something was wrong.”

“Nothing was…” Dimitri stopped mid-sentence.

Sahira frowned at him, he was pale and nervous. “You’ve never pulled the Temperance. You always pull success cards. I should have stopped you.”

“Sahira, stop.”

“Why are the cops looking for you?”

Dimitri stared at the woman in Asian robes, a score of silver bracelets clinking as she moved. The card reader of indiscriminate age glared back.

They had become the closest of friends that summer, working at the most popular eatery in Rehoboth. The place was known for oddly named but good food, generous drinks, and iridescent painted walls. Dimitri waited tables, and Sahira read tarot cards at a small table in the corner by the bar. For two bucks she pulled a card and gave a one-sentence prediction – not a fortune. Five let you pick your own card, ten got you three and more details, but twenty got you a full reading. Tourists liked the whimsy and the gypsy costumes, but the Night Owl staff listened intently when pulling a card. Sahira never missed.

From the day Dimitri joined the staff, he had pulled a card before every shift, usually selecting success cards. Dimitri reminded Sahira of home with his dark eyes and pure smile. She had known he was coming before he was hired and so latched on to him immediately.

Sahira searched Dimitri’s eyes. “I warned you to be careful.”

Dimitri breathed deeply. “Sahira, it’ll be ok.”

She stepped back and studied him as she would her cards.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’d better get this over.”

“I know a lawyer?”

“I’m sure, but I’m fine.”

As Dimitri stepped away, she stopped him. “Put this in your pocket. Touch it if you need to.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. Sahira held out a tarot card. She never let her cards out of her sight, not ever.

“I haven’t slept all week! You two,” he pointed to Buddy and Brad, “snore like a pack of rhinos.”

“It’s a crash of rhinos.” Fran corrected him. 

“Whatever!” Karl sighed. “Who can sleep with that noise? So I fell asleep on the beach today. I was so out that I didn’t wake until all of a sudden this wave crashed over me and I woke up. End of story.”

“NOT end of story!” Janine contradicted him and shushed their friends. “First the tide came up and started lapping at his feet. Karl wiggled his toes like this.” Janine wiggled her fingers. “Tell’em what you told me.”

“Ugh! I dreamt that I was dancing with Gene Kelley in Singing in the Rain.”

They roared.

“I took a video to prove it. He’s on his back and dancing in the surf.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up!” Karl scolded his best friend.

“It was too much fun.” Janine laughed and turned to the others. “Next, the water advanced further and his shorts got wet. He started flailing his arms and kicking his legs.” 

Janine’s sides started hurting. “Go ahead, tell’em. Tell’em what you were dreaming then.”

Karl burned red but spoke. “I wet the bed and started running away. You guys were all laughing at me. I swear I heard you laugh.”

“Seagulls!” Barked Janine.

“And you didn’t wake up? You slept through wetting the bed?” Brad coughed out.

“WAIT! There’s one more, I have the video.” Janine holds out her phone.

I must have fallen asleep, I don’t remember closing my eyes but I’d been dreaming. Hard to believe anyone can sleep here, the cacophony of beach sounds is loud enough to wake the dead. Crashing waves, cries from opportunistic gulls, and kids of all ages laughing, yelling, and shrieking with glee as they play tag with the waves – all make Rehoboth Beach a summer paradise.

 It’s hotter now. Earlier, before mom and dad went for a walk before I nodded off, there was a cool ocean breeze. It felt like the wind had kissed the ocean swells and then softly washed over me. Ocean air must be some sort of sleeping potion. 

And the sun shifted. My feet, legs, and left shoulder are no longer hidden beneath the beach umbrella. I consider moving them back into the shade or getting up to shift the umbrella, but maybe a tan wouldn’t be so bad. 

The beach is super crowded. Families and couples were blanket to blanket for as far as I can see. The family next to our blanket, a mom and dad, and three young kids, keep secretly glancing over at me. It’s almost as if they’re keeping an eye on me. I smile at the dad when I catch him the next time, which is fine, I get it. Maybe I should go over to say hello, but decide not to intrude. 

His kids are having a ball playing in the sand; they’re making quite a sandcastle. They have pails and shovels and molds; one boy, he must be six or seven, is the runner. He keeps running back to the surf to fill his bucket while his brother mixes the water with sand and dribbles the sludge into cone-shaped castle drip-roofs. I’d love to go sit in the sand with the kids and help them dig, but I’m probably too old. Besides, I’m saving our spot on the beach (though digging in the sand does look like so much fun).

I look up and down the beach, Mom and Dad are nowhere. I turn around quickly, maybe they’re in the water with Darius. I assume that’s where my best friend is, he loves the water. I squint and scan the ocean fast but no, I can’t find anyone anywhere. My heart rate kicks into overdrive and I can’t help jerking my head around looking for my parents, and Darius. Mom and Dad never swim so they could be in real trouble? I’m about to jump up and run to alert the lifeguard when I catch sight of a bright green and yellow bathing suit rocketing down the face of a wave. It’s Darius and he’s bodysurfing the biggest wave ever.

Darius is a big fella. He’s tall and strong and if either mom or dad or both were drowning, he could have rescued them for sure. He’s saved me more times than I care to admit. As I said, Darius is my best friend. He’s super nice and we tell each other everything. I know I can sometimes be slow on the uptake but Darius always waits for me and never complains. And he makes me laugh when he talks to me with that faux-mocking tone of his. I like it when he teases me like that, makes me feel like everything is ok. 

So, later that summer at the Olympic Games, when Mattie’s number three swimmer pulled a hamstring, he called Falco up to fill in. Major Salvavidas was enraged, he forbade Mattie to swim Falco. He insisted Stevens be the substitute. But Stevens wasn’t on the swimming roster, he was only registered for beach games. Mattie wasn’t about to risk disqualification. He waited for the Major to calm down before standing his ground. “Major, I promise, we’ll take this event with Falco.”

“Veloce put Stevens in, or else!” Salvavidas insisted.

Mattie knew the Major, he knew that even though Salvavidas said beating OC was paramount, his squad was his pride. Veloce shrugged and told Salvavidas he wouldn’t swim if forced to swim Stevens’. Then he remembered something, “Coach, you tell us every year how important the team is. How we never leave a teammate behind. When I was a Junior, you told my captain that Juniors were the most important members of the team. Falco will do this. He needs to do it, and not just for a stupid trophy. Out of everyone on my team, no, on this squad, he needs this win.”

“You lose this for me,” Salvavidas’ voice was low but menacing. His face was an inch from Veloce’s. “If you lose, the only place you’ll ever lifeguard again will be a kiddy pool.”

Mateo Veloce stepped back and smirked.

“Falco!” Salvavidas yelled. “You’re in for Gomez.”

Salvavidas stormed away without looking back. 

Eddy Falco was shaking his head when Mattie called him. Eddy didn’t move. Mattie grinned, walked over, and pulled Falco aside. He grabbed him by both shoulders, the fear in Eddy’s face was palpable.

Gerald jabbed his finger at the Indian Artifact booth in Grove Park. Hanging along the back wall were dozens of dream catchers. They looked like webbed artwork, each unique in shape or size. The feathers attached to the sides fluttered in the morning breeze making their beads sound like applause and the tiny chimes like bells.

Phillip repositioned his ball cap and huffed.

“You’ve tried everything else; you’ve got nothing to lose,” Gerald shrugged and started toward the booth.

“You aren’t seriously suggesting arts and crafts will help me sleep?” Phillip followed.

Gerald shrugged again. “Nothing else you’ve tried has helped.”

The two widowed friends were on their bi-weekly Friday visit to the farmer’s market. They met when Phillip retired and moved into the Rehoboth townhouse next door. Gerald was thrilled to have someone his age moving in and even happier that the sour old biddy who reported Gerald to the homeowner’s association weekly was leaving. She once wrote him up for opening his garage door after nine pm.

The day Phillip moved in, Gerald greeted him with a bottle of champagne and a pizza. The two men have been friends ever since.

“Phil, you look like hell. You’ve got bags under your eyes. When was the last time you slept all night?”

“You don’t look so good either. Are you not sleeping too?” Phillip didn’t wait. “A spiderweb will work better than pills?”

Gerald stopped and frowned at him, “You sleepwalk on those pills.”

The large tent-covered booth was filled with Indian arts and crafts. The front table displayed moccasins, hand-woven baskets, and beaded bags. Behind the table was a half wall of garments, woven blankets, and buckskin shirts. Along the far side, was a long table with glass cases of handmade silver jewelry. Hanging along the back wall near what looked like a genuine tipi, were the dream catchers. Some were small with tiny metal chimes, and others were as large as a window with intricate web designs, beading, rope, and feathers.

Gerald stopped at the first table and picked up a buckskin shirt, “it’s my grandson’s birthday soon.”

Phillip nodded and trudged to the back wall. He quickly glanced at the dream catchers and selected a saucer-size one. It had a white web supported by a metal ring, two tiny white feathers, and toothpick-sized chimes dangling from the base. For ten bucks it would get Gerald off his back.

Just as he was about to turn to pay, an elderly man ducked and stepped out of the tipi. Dressed in a fringed buckskin shirt with a colorful beaded breastplate, the man studied Phillip as he approached.

“That will not catch a dream for you. It is a toy.” The man’s heavily accented voice was so deep and authoritative that Phillip took a step back.

The man’s face was dark and heavily lined as if sun-baked for decades. His grey braided hair that fell down his back had two long feathers fastened behind his ear.