No Words: A Novel (Little Bridge Island Book 3)

LITTLE BRIDGE BOOK FESTIVAL ITINERARY FOR: JO WRIGHT

Saturday, January 4, 2:30 p.m.–4:30 p.m.

– Sailing Aboard The Moment –

Will Price invites fellow authors for a sail around Little Bridge Island aboard his 60’ catamaran. Lunch will be served.

Okay. The boat was pretty cool.

What was I saying? The boat was amazing.

I’d never been on a boat before, unless you counted the boat to the immigration museum on Ellis Island, which every kid who goes to school in New York City eventually ends up taking.

But that was just a ferryboat, and it had only gone back and forth across the Hudson River.

This was a multimillion-dollar catamaran sliding across the crystal-blue sea off the coast of Florida. The bright sun shone down on my bare arms as the warm wind whipped the hair that had come loose from my ponytail. As I leaned against the rail, watching the water glide beneath us—so clear that I could see the sandy bottom and seaweed beneath us—I felt as if all the worries and snarky thoughts in my head were being blown away by the beautiful tropical breeze.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this happy. Maybe never?

The weirdest part was that I’d basically been forced onto this boat against my will, and yet I didn’t care. Not only did I not care, I loved it.

“Can you believe this?” Bernadette, a plastic cup of rosé in one hand, a plate of what was being served for lunch down in the galley—delicately fried conch fritters, lemon herb chicken wings, roasted vegetable quinoa salad, watermelon and strawberry kebabs—in the other, made her way toward me. She’d changed from her book panel clothes into a one-piece and shorts, even throwing on the bright yellow Little Bridge Book Festival visor that had been in our swag bag (to protect her face from the sun, she said).

That’s right, Bernadette Zhang, author of the dystopian monster hit Crown and Stars series, was wearing a visor.

“It’s amazing,” I said.

We were headed for what Will had called “one of his favorite spots,” which apparently took some navigating to get to. The island of Little Bridge was shrinking behind us. Ahead stretched only water—but water unlike any I’d ever seen before. Ribbons of turquoise and aquamarine and the palest green—other places almost white, the water was so shallow, the sand beneath it shimmering in the hot midday sun—surrounded us. Occasionally a small island of green popped up from the horizon like an oasis in a desert.

“Mangroves,” Bernadette explained. Always in educator mode, Bernadette read from her phone about what we were seeing. “They thrive in areas of low tide and provide essential habitats for a myriad of wildlife, including wading birds. Hey! We might see a flamingo!”

But none of these mangroves appeared to be Will’s special spot, since he was steering around them.

That was the other thing: Will didn’t have a hired crew or anything. He was steering his own boat.

Was there something sexy about a guy behind the wheel of a large and powerful boat?

A guy who looked like Will? Yeah, okay, I’ll admit it: Yes. Yes, there was.

“So, aren’t you glad now that Kellyjean talked you into coming?” Bernadette set down her lunch plate and attempted to photograph a particularly lovely patch of shimmering blue water that stretched to meet the equally blue sky at the horizon—two blues so deep that you could hardly tell where one stopped and the other began.

“Oh, I’m glad, all right.” I took a sip from my own cup of rosé that I’d been handed upon boarding The Moment—yes, Will had named his boat after his latest book, which had apparently helped pay for it—and let my gaze roam away from the water, toward the boat’s bridge deck, where Will was steering. Shirtless, I might add.

And let me tell you, that view was every bit as enticing as the ocean.

Fortunately he couldn’t see me looking at him, because I had my sunglasses on. I’d invested in a good pair of polarized sunglasses with mirrored lenses when I’d first started shopping in Florida for places for my dad. At the time it had only been to help combat the glare of the sun when I was being driven around by Realtors, but now they were paying off in ways I’d never expected. For all Will knew, I could have been checking out some birds flying in the sky above him.

Instead I was checking out him. He was deep in conversation with Jerome, who was fascinated by the boat’s navigation system and wanted the console explained to him. Will appeared only too happy to oblige, which suited me fine, as well. Now he not only couldn’t tell I was observing him, he was too busy.

I was doing all of this observing for research purposes only, of course. It would help me turn Raul Wolf into a fully realized and complex character. I needed Raul to be someone that readers would come to love and fully support Kitty Katz dumping Rex Canine for.

No other reason. No other reason at all.

At least I’d have been able to do this if other people hadn’t kept interrupting me.

“Can you believe this boat?” Garrett appeared from belowdecks, holding a can of hard seltzer in one hand and, unfortunately, his ukulele in the other. Like Will, he was shirtless.

Unlike Will, however, Garrett had not had the sense either to wear a hat or stay beneath the shade of the bridge, so his pale skin was already burning under the sun’s intense rays, even though Kellyjean had offered him use of her SPF 100 wholly reef-safe and biodegradable sunscreen. The rest of us had let her spray us down, but Garrett had declined.

“I never burn,” he’d informed us. “I’m one-eighth Cherokee.”

He also, I noted, shaved his chest. Either that or waxed it. He was miraculously smooth everywhere except his legs, underarms, head, and face.

“This boat has got a bedroom bigger than the one I have back home!” Garrett had apparently been exploring The Moment, which Will had urged all of us to treat as our second home for the afternoon. Garrett, however, was the only one who’d taken that literally and not as mere politeness. “How much do you think this thing set him back? Just ballpark.”

“You already told us last night it was two million.” I took another sip of my wine.

“Yeah, but now that I’m seeing it, with all the bells and whistles, I’m guessing three million, easy. And then he goes and names it after his book about a murderer!”

“Excuse me.” I glared at him. “Some of us haven’t finished the book yet. I don’t know if Johnny did it or not.”

“Oh, please. Don’t you read the end of the book first?”

“No, I do not. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m all about craft, baby. I don’t care about the story.”

I pointed at him. “Don’t call me baby, you—”

“Shhh.” Bernadette pointed toward a number of lounge chairs a few yards away where Chloe, her friend Sharmaine, and Kellyjean were all draped in their swimsuits, eating their lunch, their backs toward us. “There are impressionable young people in the vicinity.”

“Fine.” I lowered my voice. “But don’t call me baby.”

“Jeez.” Garrett rolled his eyes. “So tense. But fine, I won’t. Still, you have to admit, that’s weird, too, right? What’s Will’s deal with teenaged girls?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” Bernadette sipped her wine. “He’s related to one?”

“But don’t you ladies think this thing with the cheerleaders is suspicious?” Garrett should maybe have laid off the hard seltzers, since his face was getting redder by the minute. “Because I do.”

“They’re not cheerleaders,” I heard myself saying. “They’re on the school dance team. And Will is donating money to them to help out during the festival. I don’t think that’s weird. I think it’s nice.”

Whoa. What was wrong with me? Why was I coming to Will’s defense?

Garrett was too wrapped up in his own concerns to notice.

“I imagine you two have heard the rumors,” he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken.

Bernadette’s eyebrows were raised almost to the sweatband of her visor. “Rumors? What rumors?”

“About a certain author.” Garrett was smiling now. “A certain famous male author.”

Bernadette side-eyed me as she lifted her lunch plate. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“Price, of course. You know the real reason why he wants all these young girls around, don’t you?”

“Why, no, Garrett.” Bernadette took a bite of watermelon kebab. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell us.”

“Research! Will Price wants to make the move into writing children’s fiction!”

Bernadette and I exchanged glances. Garrett must have noticed that we were smirking, since he cried, “Oh, come on! How can you not see it? It couldn’t be more obvious. It’s why he’s paying you, Jo, such a huge stipend to be here. I’m surprised you two didn’t catch on this morning during our panels. He couldn’t have been more thrilled that Molly went into labor! It gave him the opportunity to sit there and grill us about what it’s like to write for kids.”

I choked a little on the sip of wine I’d taken. Apparently Garrett took this for disbelief, since he insisted, “You must have noticed how competitive Will is! He’s already conquered writing for adults, so why wouldn’t he try to take over the world of children’s lit, too? God.” Garrett shook his head at what he perceived as our extreme stupidity. “The truth has been staring you two in the face this whole time, and you refuse to see it.”

Bernadette blinked at Garrett one or two times, then burst out laughing. She tried flinging a hand over her mouth both to keep from being overheard by Kellyjean and the Snappettes and to keep Garrett from noticing how hilarious she found his statement, but it didn’t work.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Garrett looked wounded. “You know I’m right.”

“I’ll tell you what’s funny,” I said. Unlike Bernadette, I wasn’t laughing. I wasn’t smiling, not even a little bit. “Last night you were insisting that the reason I’d been given such a big stipend was to lure me here because Will is in love with me. Now you’re saying the only reason Will’s hanging around with any of us is because he wants our help to break into children’s lit—as if he’d need any help with that. Will could write the alphabet on a piece of paper and someone would publish it. Get your story straight, Garrett. If this is an example of how you plot your books, I don’t understand why anyone reads them at all.”

“Wha—?” Garrett looked even more hurt. “Jo. Where’s all this animosity coming from? Are your feelings hurt or something, because Will might not actually be that into you after all? I’m only trying to warn you girls that the guy is up to no good, and you—”

“Oh, God, Garrett. Shut up already.”

I must have spoken a little too loudly, since Chloe leaned her head around the back of her sun lounger and asked, “Hey ya. Is everything all right back there?”

“Oh, yes,” I called to her. “Sorry. Everything’s fine. Just talking about books.”

Garrett was glaring at me. I had clearly lost a friend—if he and I had ever been friends. But I felt like that ship had sailed—to coin a phrase—yesterday morning on the author bus when he’d so aggressively sang at me with his ukulele.

“Oh, books!” Chloe sounded excited. “My favorite subject! Are you sure you have everything you need? Can I get anyone more fruit kebabs?”

“No, we’re all good, sunshine.” Garrett tipped his hard seltzer toward Chloe in a toast. “You and your brother are the perfect hosts.”

“Oh, thanks for that,” Chloe said with a wide grin. “Cheers.”

Then her head disappeared back behind the lounger.

“Well, since you two seem to object so much to my company, I guess I’ll go spend time with people who actually appreciate it,” Garrett huffed at us. Then he began stalking over to the women on the sun loungers.

“Garrett,” Bernadette called after him. “Garrett, no, wait—”

But it was too late. Garrett sat down, set his drink in a cup holder, and began strumming his ukulele.

“Hey, ladies,” he said to Kellyjean, Sharmaine, and Chloe. “You know what you remind me of, lying there, looking so pretty in the sun? A little sea shanty I happen to know. ‘Farewell and adieu unto you Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain—’”

“Oh, God.” Bernadette looked at me, all signs of humor gone. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Me? You’re the one who laughed in his face.”

“I know.” Bernadette seemed regretful. “I think I’ve had too much rosé.”

“Well, I’m starting to think Garrett might be one of those.”

“One of what?”

“You know, one of those guys who insists every other guy in the room is no good, so he can make himself look great in comparison.”

Bernadette gazed at Garrett thoughtfully. “If that’s his goal, it’s definitely not working.”

“Why don’t you keep an eye on him, while I go warn our host?”

“Wait.” She caught my hand as I started for the bridge. “What are you going to do?”

“Warn Will that he needs to look out for Garrett.” At Bernadette’s bug-eyed expression, I elaborated. “Don’t you think at least one member of the festival board should know the truth about him?”

“The truth about what?”

“What you heard about him at Novel Con. The guy’s sitting there serenading Will’s sister—his teenaged sister.”

“He’s playing the ukulele, Jo. You yourself said that a guy playing the ukulele wouldn’t have impressed you when you were their age.”

“Yeah, if he’d been an ordinary guy. But Garrett’s a bestselling author. That definitely would have impressed me enough that I’d have overlooked the ukulele thing. Did you or did you not tell me that there were rumors flying around about a bestselling author hitting on all the girls at last year’s Novel Con?”

“I did. But I also said I didn’t have any proof of who it was.”

I nodded at Garrett, who’d finished up his song about Spanish ladies and launched into something even worse, a ukulele version of a reggae tune. “I think it’s pretty obvious who it was. And if Chloe were my little sister, I’d want to know.”

“Oh, God.” Bernadette rolled her eyes. “Fine, okay, go. But don’t blame me if your plan backfires.”

“Backfires how? What do you think Will might do? Throw Garrett overboard?” This would actually make the cutest illustration for a Kitty Katz book ever. I could just see Raul Wolf tossing Rex Canine over the railing of the town ferry, into the Bay of Dogsville.

“Oh my God.” Bernadette’s voice, sounding incredulous, broke into my fantasy. “I know what you’re doing. You’re going to put all of this into a book, aren’t you?”

“What?” I looked away in case she somehow glimpsed the truth through the mirrored lenses of my sunglasses. “No! Of course not.”

“Yes, you are.” Bernadette shook her head in disbelief. “I know you. This is all going into Kitty Katz number twenty-seven.”

“Oh, please!” Too late. She’d seen right through me. “You really have had too much rosé.”

“If you break up Kitty and Rex,” Bernadette called after me, “your fans will hate you. You’re going to be the scourge of Goodreads!”

Worth it, I thought, but didn’t say out loud.

The Moment by Will Price

She was half asleep. I kissed both of her eyelids. “I have to tell you something.”

The eyelids rose. She smiled. “Tell me what?”

I leaned up on one elbow and swept some of her hair from her face. “The truth. I have to tell you the truth”

Melanie sat up. Her hair fell forward, over her full, round breasts. Her eyes were like twin blue ponds, fathoms deep. “There’s nothing you can say to me, Johnny, that will change the way I feel about you.”

What could I do after that but make love to her all over again?