It had been minutes — a good stretch of them — since the talk of Legacy boys had finally burned itself out, mostly because there was nothing left of the Legacy boys to burn. The car had picked their bones clean, held a brief memorial service, and moved on to better things.
Just chatter now, and laughter, and the easy overlapping noise of people who belonged to each other — a small bubble of warmth sealed inside rolling glass and leather, the kind of warmth no money on this island could purchase, which was saying something, because the island had tried to put a price tag on everything else, including the air.
The one anticipating tonight's offerings most, surprisingly, was Sierra who kept leaning into the plans with a light in her eyes she would have denied under oath, before a tribunal, with her hand on her own mother's grave.
"You're excited," Maddie accused her.
"I am appropriately interested."
"Your foot is bouncing."
"My foot is resting at a dynamic angle."
