She ended up back in O.B., where it was raining again. Or still. Ahead on the right was Tooley’s Bar, with its pink neon palm tree sign blinking through the misty rain. Chloe’s beat-up old Toyota was there in the lot, and on impulse Summer parked next to it, slipped her damp sundress back over her tank and biker shorts, fluffed her hair with her fingers and called it good. She ran through the drizzle to the building and opened the door. The interior was mostly beat-up old teakwood, with baskets hanging from the ceiling and sand and peanuts scattered on the floor like a Jamaican beach. It was large and roomy, and not crowded, which sent relief through her, and she took a few steps inside.

Stella and Gregg were standing on the edge of the dance floor, arms around each other. “Surprised to see you,” Stella said, her smile not quite as warm as usual. Summer knew they’d been questioned about the fire, specifically about how Summer had reported Gregg being downstairs before leaving the shop, and how Gregg had offered to close up for her. Summer was sorry for it but she couldn’t have done anything differently.

“You don’t usually show up here,” Gregg said.

“Just looking for some company.” Summer smiled, hoping it’d get friendly again, but neither returned the smile or asked her to join them. In fact, Gregg nudged Stella away, and off the dance floor. “Enjoy yourself tonight,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh, yes,” Stella agreed as Gregg slipped his arm around her. “Please, enjoy yourself.”

Please. Go away. Please, go away. Summer blinked. “Um, what did you just say?”

Stella looked at her strangely. “I said enjoy yourself.”

“No, you said please. Please, enjoy yourself.”

“Okay.” Stella glanced at her husband and lifted a brow. “You’re right. I said please enjoy yourself.” As her anonymous caller had.

“Right. I will, thanks.” But they were already gone. Summer moved toward the bar, thinking this had to stop. She had to stop.

Chloe was sitting on a bar stool wearing a black denim mini and a dazzling pink halter that should have clashed with her green-tipped hair but somehow didn’t. She had a tattoo on her bare shoulder of a hummingbird that looked brand new, and was accepting a very tall pink frothy drink from the bartender.

“You’ve been busy,” Summer said, and gesturing to the new tattoo, sat next to her.

“Yeah.” Chloe ran a finger over the hummingbird and smiled. “I know the image better suits you, but I like the idea of being so free.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Summer muttered.