“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’ve got the look. You’re stiff. You’re cranky. And he was with your girl.”
“Not stiff. Always cranky. And she’s not my girl. And he’s not with her now.”
“That guy over there is not worth your time.”
I turned my bottle again. “I’m not thinking about him.”
It killed me to think of him touching her. Kissing her. Making love to her. But I hadn’t been living like a monk. There was zero expectation she would live like a nun.
But it still pissed me off.
The conversation at the other end of the bar drifted over in pieces. Something about the protest on Friday. I knew they were likely the ones organizing the thing. It was unlikely Bodhi knew about me and Summer, but guys picked up on the territorial thing. He suspected there was something, so he was going to make it very clear he’d had her.
The protest wasn’t anything too serious. I wasn’t worried, but Judd and the other investors were acting like it was a personal attack. Although the post on Facebook was gaining some serious traction. A hundred and something likes turned into three hundred in a matter of hours. People from inland and up and down the coast were promising to show up.
You couldn’t stop something like this once it had momentum. The harder you pushed against it, the more you fed it. The people of Surfside had found something to rally around and they were going to rally whether Judd liked it or not. The most he could do was make sure none of our people were anywhere near it and that the building was secure. Anything else was going to make us look exactly like the villains they already thought we were.
What I couldn’t quite reconcile was the fact that I agreed with them. Not about the port. I still believed in the project. I believed in the data and the opportunity and the genuine economic benefit that a well-run cruise operation could bring to a coastal town that was slowly being priced out of its own identity anyway. The money was coming whether we built here or not. Surfside was going to get run over. It might not be today, but it would happen.
Cody had been doing a decent job of keeping my attention occupied with a running commentary about everything and nothing. It was annoying the hell out of me.
“Cody, I’m good,” I told him. “I’m minding my business.”
“Anderson.”
Bodhi stopped at the edge of our table with a beer in his hand and that stupid smile on his face. His buddies hung back.
I turned to face him. “Bodhi.”
“Saw the pictures.” He shook his head slowly, the grin still in place. “Somebody really doesn’t want that port.”
“Looks that way.”
“Can’t imagine why.” He took a pull from his beer. “Beautiful stretch of coastline. Perfect waves. I mean, what’s not to love about dropping a cruise terminal right in the middle of all that?”
“All that money flowing into town will be terrible for the economy,” I said, not hiding my sarcasm.
Bodhi tilted his head. “You know what I keep thinking about? All those families that have been coming here for thirty, forty years. Generations. Little kids learning to surf on that same stretch. And one day they’re going to show up and there’s going to be a parking structure where the dunes were.” He paused for effect. “That’s going to be a real bummer for them.”
“I appreciate the concern,” I said.
“Just making conversation.”
“Sure.”
He looked at Cody then, like he’d just noticed him. “You’re the brother, right?”
“Guilty,” Cody said pleasantly.
“You surf?”
“Some.”
Bodhi nodded slowly. “So you two just roll in here, drop a few million on a project that nobody asked for, and then act surprised when people push back.”
“It’s business,” I said. “People have opinions.”