She hadn’t realized how nervous she was until she was standing at the water’s edge, looking up at the orange traffic cones that demarcated Sharky’s beach zone. The palms of her hands were damp and she felt a trickle of perspiration slide down the side of her face and between her breasts.

For a moment, she was transported back to middle school, to that horrible first day in her new school when she stood in the cafeteria, looked around and realized she was the only girl wearing bib overalls in a high-waist acid-washed-jeans world.

“Chill out,” she muttered to herself now. “It’s just happy hour. You own happy hour, damnit.”

Brice must have been waiting for her, because he walked out to meet her the moment she stepped onto the deck. He was dressed in sharply pressed golf shorts, and a polo shirt with an embroidered yacht club logo.

“Hey!” he said, looking genuinely pleased to see her. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry. It’s a long bus ride out here,” she said.

“Why didn’t you say something? I could have given you a ride home.”

“I’ve got a car, it just didn’t choose to start this morning. It’s fine now, though.” This was a bald-faced lie, but she couldn’t risk the hideous proposition of having to ride to work in the morning with Brice and Wendy.

“Okay, but let me know if it acts up again.” He pressed a drink into her hand. “Here. Tonight’s drink special. The Kinky Dolphin.”

She could see the layers of viscous blue and green liquors through the sides of the plastic cup. “What’s in this?”

“You used to work in a bar, so you tell me.”

Drue rolled her eyes, then discarded the paper umbrella skewering a maraschino cherry and orange slice garnish. She took a gulp of the Kinky Dolphin and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was both mouth-puckeringly sour and sickeningly sweet. “Mmm. If I had to guess I’d say antifreeze and Ty-D-Bol.”

He held up his own bottle of beer in a salute. “Come on. I want you to meet the rest of the Campbell, Coxe and Kramner gang. We’re at a table inside.”

She followed him under the tin-roofed porch toward a table around which a dozen people were gathered, trying to quell a growing sense of unease.

“Hey guys,” Brice announced, standing at the head of the table. “Quiet down, okay? I want you to meet my daughter, Drue. I’m thrilled to announce that she’s joined the Campbell, Coxe and Kramner team.” He gestured around the table. “Drue, meet the team.”