I realized I had run several miles when I spotted the orange netting and signage up ahead. I was nearing the site for the port we were going to be building. The garish orange fencing and signage made me cringe. Nothing saidwe are invaderslike orange construction fencing on a public beach. Way to blend in.
As I got closer, I realized I wasn’t looking at a basic construction site. I slowed my pace, like it would change the outcome of what I could see ahead.
“Son of a bitch,” I breathed.
I bent forward, my hands on my knees, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my back. The scene was chaos. The orange netting was draped with kelp. The official signage had been pulled from the posts and replaced with hand-painted boards driven into the sand.
THIS BEACH BELONGS TO EVERYONE.
BILLIONAIRES DON’T OWN THE OCEAN.
SOME THINGS AREN’T FOR SALE.
GO HOME.
There was a handwritten note in a sheet protector duct taped to the orange fence that had been shredded. “Find another port. Don’t turn our beach into a billionaire’s wet dream.”
I stood up straight and exhaled through my nose. My heart rate was coming down but my jaw was tight. Garbage had been dumped all over the area. Like someone had taken the trash bins placed up and down the beach and dumped them. Plastic bottles, a dirty diaper, and beer cans. This hadn’t been drunk teenagers vandalizing for the fun of it. This was a coordinated effort. More than one person. Probably several people.
Judd was going to lose his shit.
Fuck it.Iwas going to lose my shit. It was getting old. The headquarters building was visible from where I stood. We had chosen the location specifically because of the easy access to what would be our port. I could see glaring red and orange spray paint all over the back of the building.
What. The. Fuck.How did this happen with no one seeing it?
I knew how. People were turning a blind eye because they were protecting their own. The dog shit was one thing. But whatI was looking at now was vandalism that would cost money to fix.
Judd’s black sports car swung into the parking lot above. I didn’t even want to guess what had been spray painted up there. He got out of the car and stomped down the old steps that were scheduled to be revamped as part of the project.
“Colt.” His voice was dangerously quiet. That was worse than yelling. “I got a call.”
“I didn’t. I just happened to be running by when I saw it.”
“I’m done playing nice,” he seethed.
A sensible man would have talked him down from the ledge, but I was pretty pissed off myself.
“It’s a declaration of war.” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “This is organized. This is not one disgruntled local with a can of spray paint. This is a campaign.” He was already dialing. His jaw worked while the call connected. “Dustin. Call me back. Now.” He hung up and immediately dialed again. “Yes. I need you to document this before anything gets touched. Send me—yes. Yes, the Surfside location. The beach access point.” He lowered the phone and turned to look at the wall of the building. Now that I looked at it, I realized someone had attempted to paint a dick. The vandal was no Banksy. Judd turned around and glared at me. “I want names, Colt.”
“Why the fuck would I have their names?” I snapped.
He seemed to still be operating under the impression I knew everyone and was somehow their sovereign king. A couple walking a dog had stopped about thirty yards up the beach. They were both holding their phones up. I watched them take pictures. The woman said something to the man and he nodded, still filming. Behind them, a pair of joggers slowed to a stop. More pictures.
Social media was going to eat this up.
“I’ll call a cleanup crew,” I said.
“No! I want a police report. I want this documented.” He looked at the growing cluster of people. His nostrils flared. “This is harassment. This is criminal interference with a legitimate business operation. I have every right to sue the shit out of everyone, including the law enforcement that allowed this to happen. I want the names of the city council members. The mayor!”
“You can exercise every one of those rights after we get a crew down here and restore this beach to what it looked like yesterday.” I put my hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the fence and the growing audience. “Right now, the optics are terrible and they’re getting worse with every picture somebody takes. We clean it up fast, we say nothing, and we don’t give this any more oxygen.”
He looked at me with the expression of a man who was not accustomed to being managed. I held his gaze and didn’t flinch.
“One hour,” I said. “Give me one hour before you go off half-cocked.”
His face was red and I honestly worried he was going to stroke out. “One hour,” he said. “But then they’re getting my whole cock.”
He walked back to his car and got in. He didn’t drive away, but I hoped he would. I wasn’t exactly a local, but I did have some friends here. At least, I used to. Clearly the vandalism said I was a target. I pulled out my phone and called Cody.