Everything's fuzzy, but I'm moving so fast. That stinks.

    It smells like skunk, I remarked. No one answered.

    "Fuck, I said it in my head again."

Okay I'm sure that one worked, even though it was probably better left unsaid.

Why am I being ignored?

I peeked around the front seat to see Pearl's sleeping face reflecting softly in the window. With Pearl swimming through whatever dreamland twenty-two year-old virgins have, the mystery was solved. Perry, my loving stepbrother, was stationed in the driver's seat and driving our high asses to our new home for the summer, and him ignoring me was nothing new. He's a child.

I had begged my mother to not send us to the same vacation spot, but it fell on willfully deaf ears. Donna and Mark were having extensive remodels on the house done, and a ticket to their forty day Transatlantic wine cruise was deemed too expensive to waste on either one of their mediocre children. 

"Can't we at least stay in different BNBs? Mom I swear... I'll do anything, I-"

"Well, I'm not paying for another rental! How would you? You know as well as I do that no respectable job will hire someone with a blank resume four years out of high school." Her lips were pursed in an unnatural kind of way. Fifteen years of lip injections will do that to you, I suppose. I pulled my eyes up to meet her rigid tar-soaked eyes.

But I was silent.

"Honey," her voice softened but her eyes did not. "You know that until you marry the Maxwell boy our financial support of you will continue."

"Thank you, mother."

Here it comes...

"However," there it is! "We spend enough on you as it is and now we're forking over an obscene amount of money on an all expense paid summer vacation to the beach and I'm the bad guy? One free rental house for two months isn't enough for you?" If looks could kill I'd have died a thousand times before the age of five. "Need I remind you of everything we pay for? All of your living expenses, for example? Or how about-"

"Can I at least bring Pearl? She's in town for the summer and we haven't gotten to see as much of her ever since-" Donna waved a manicured hand inches from my face.

"Fine," she spat, and began to walk away. "But there are only two bedrooms and I'm not changing the rental," she threw over her shoulder as she entered her bedroom, clicking the door closed behind her.

I may have to suffer Perry, but at least she won't be there.

For a moment, I wondered if I should feel bad for having such a thought. But only for a moment.

    Looking out the window now, it felt like the rental car had slowed down considerably, getting off the highway and coming up on a red-light. 

Surely this isn't our exit?

This town was too rural, too much like South Georgia, to be the 'Cutest Coastal Town' where our 'Two-Bedroom Two-Bath Modern Fantasies Bed and Breakfast' with 'Private Beachfront Access' was.

There must have been an accident or roadwork ahead. Surely we're taking a detour.

    On the left we passed a charming little brick shop with nearly blacked out windows and an orange neon sign that proudly displayed, "Sex on the Beach, Open 24/7." Neon palm trees and pot leaves dimly flashed through the dark windows. On the right, a dense wall of kudzu smothered the fenceline. I checked the time.

    6:37 PM

    "Hey Perry," I croaked, then cleared my throat awkwardly.

    Man, I'm thirsty.

    "Hm?" he grunted, visibly stiffening. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

    "How far away are we?" I fumbled my hand around in the tan quilted beach bag at my feet until I found my bottle of raspberry sparkling water.

  "You have to piss again?"

    I cracked the seal on my water and let the hisss of the carbonation fade before answering. "That depends. How far away are we?"

    "Fifteen minutes, think you'll survive?"

    Fifteen minutes? This 'coastal town' must be smaller than I thought if we haven't seen any substantial 'town' yet... or 'coast'.

    Dazed, I checked my phone. No service, but my last incoming texts from before waking were from Mother.

    3:29 PM

    June, we're finishing loading now. Give us a call ASAP. We need to get you the check-in information for the B&B.

    4:15 PM

    Check-in is over. We won't have service long after we undock. Waiting for your call.

    5:02 PM

    Call me NOW.

    5:07 PM

    Losing service. Lockbox code is 4355. Cleaning and laundry services come Tuesdays at 1. Have a good summer, we'll have service again next Wednesday in Iceland. Ciao!

    P.S. Send Perry my love <3

    I droopily tossed my phone back in the bag, sighing and returning to the window.

It was then that I got my first glance at the beaches of Dolphin Coast. A seagull dove into the blue-green field of sea that met with the darkening coast line. The public beach access was nothing like the beaches of Tampa or Miami, the beaches that I had grown up on every summer in years past. Instead of freshly powdered white sand, stretching for miles and clustered with cloud-tickling hotels, Dolphin Coast's beaches were small, crowded by cracked walkways and concrete tables.

It was overcast. When it began to drizzle, the few people on the beach didn't mind. A mother held her young son's hand as they waded into the murky water together, kicking up a cloud of gray sand as they did. I looked away.

    The seeds of disappointment had already sprouted in my mind. At least I knew that our BNB had private beach access, so we could avoid the locals while we were here and make regular treks to Panama City Beach 'PCB' when we got the urge to party. It was only an hour car ride, according to my mother. Maybe it won't be so bad. I checked the time.

   6:50 PM

    "Hey Pearly-girl," I reached gently around the seat in front of me and shook her shoulder.

    "Hmm?" She hummed sleepily, readjusting slightly.

    "We're almo-"

    Perry hit a pothole on the left and the car lurched. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt so I slid to the left side of the car, knocking my head on the driver's side window.

    "What the fuck, Perry!" I screeched, clutching my head.

    "It's not my fault you weren't wearing a seatbelt," he snapped back, not bothering to ask if I was okay. I mean, I was. I really didn't hit my head very hard, but it's still polite to ask. Pearl was awake now, and her bloodshot brown eyes were looking back at me, amused.

    Throughout the years, I'd ranted and raved about the many injustices that came from being Perry's stepsister, but to little avail with Pearl. She had always been too nice, too forgiving, too wise to be a good bouncing board for shit talking. I loathed her for it on occasion and now more so than ever.

But she was my best friend.

One of my only friends, really. Her and Dean, my fiance.

My life with Dean Maxwell would be a pleasant one. He was six-and-a-half feet tall with broad shoulders and an even broader checking account, if you catch my drift. I was lucky. It had not occurred to me to mind that until he graduated law school, that money was coming from Mr. Maxwell's labors, not Dean's.

    Growing in River Crest, a gated community about forty-five minutes North of Savannah,  having a crush on Dean Maxwell was like having a Barbie Doll.

Everybody had one.

From the age of thirteen, he towered over the other boys at the country club dinners and parties. He was confident, hilarious, and destined for success, being of a long line of high-profile lawyers and businessmen. I quickly singled him out as the object of my affections. Before long, we were attached at the hip: attending events, golfing, and frequenting the community's indoor pools and private gardens together. Years of my life were dedicated to pining after him, urged on nearly nightly by my mother.

    In high school, he joined our private school's football team and was the star quarterback by the end of the season our Sophomore year. I was happy for him; he was my best friend. I would visit him after school at practice, bringing goodie bags for all of the players, just because I knew he would pull me into a big teddy bear hug after and give me a kiss on the top of my head.

Then I would  smile up at him, and he'd smile down at me, his eyes dancing with joy. He seemed happiest when he was there, and I liked his teammates.

Michael in particular.

I fiddled with my engagement ring, lost in thought, as we pulled into the driveway of 1255 Bud Ln.

When I first stepped through the threshold, I had no strong feelings one way or another. Despite the seemingly proletarian nature of Dolphin's Coast, our rental was modern and well-kept.

I found myself in an adequately sized central living space with an open floor plan.

To the left, a white brick electric fireplace pretended to warm the already-too-hot space, with orange and blue pixels mimicking the movement of an active flame. A framed photograph of a sailboat hung on the steel-gray wallpaper above the mantel. Its glass softly reflected the jagged pattern of the chevron-striped rug in the center of the room.

As I flip-flopped my way over to get a closer look, the stripes moved with me, refracting and swaying in a way that was vaguely reminiscent of ocean waves. I was mesmerized by it for a few moments, before turning my attention to the rest of the room.

A white leather sectional hugged the driftwood coffee table, adorned with a blue-green glass top. Behind the couch, the space continued onward.

I wandered through the living room and towards the kitchen. As I passed the island, nuzzled between the sectional and the rest of the kitchen, I grazed my hand over the cool surface of the marble countertops. I checked my fingertips for residue and found nothing. Satisfied, I abandoned my inspection in pursuit of claiming the master bedroom before Perry had the chance.

It was too late.

"Dibs!" Perry's agitating voice hollered, unseen, but certainly coming from the open gray door mere feet from the fireplace.

Idiot!

I mentally scolded myself. I hadn't seen the door, having been too distracted by the little sailboat when I had the chance. My face soured, but I didn't challenge him. It wasn't worth it.

I sulked silently, heading now for the closest door to me and dreading what might be behind it. Pearl, just happy to be along for the ride, had taken up residence on the sectional that would serve as her bed for the summer unless she could find a local fuck buddy to crash with. It seemed unlikely given her previous sexual history, but there's a first time for everything, I suppose. She threw her legs up on the arm rest and sunk into the cushions, letting out a pleased hum and smiling over at me. I smiled back to the best of my ability.

The second bedroom was fine. Sure, I didn't have my own bathroom, but for Pearl's sake I was glad that she'd be sharing with me and not Perry. A full sized bed, with a quilted white comforter embroidered with the tiny outlines of pastel pink roses, nearly swallowed the whole of the floor space, but at least the closet was a walk-in. I could make this work. Returning to the common space, I turned my attention back to Pearl.

"I'm gunna go check out the beach. Do you wanna come?" I asked.

Pearl nodded eagerly, bouncing up from her spot on the couch. The cushions inhaled slowly, replacing the indent of her body with the rose-water scented air. Together, we exited the back door.

The sun had also begun its descent to the beach. The summer air felt cooler than it had an hour previously and the thick humidity had dissipated slightly.

"Sooo... what do ya wanna do tonight?" Pearl chirped, walking alongside me as her beachy floral dress rippled in the wind.

"Sleep probably. I don't really wanna get back in the car again today." I snuck a glance over at Pearl's face and found disappointment. It lasted a few silent moments before she became hopeful again.

"What if we didn't have to go all the way to Panama City?" We had stopped at the bottom of the steps and her pleading eyes bore holes into mine. "What if we just picked up some drinks and hung out here? Took some pictures and kicked the summer off? Just us. And Perry, just because he doesn't know anyone here either."

I grimaced at the idea of spending even more time with my stepbrother today, but Pearl had a big toothy grin and she knew how to use it. Not at all meaning to, I smiled back.

"Fine..." I agreed reluctantly. Pearl threw her arms around me so violently that her jet black hair slapped me across the face. We held each other.

My relationship with Pearl was, and always had been, the most functional part of my life.

When my mother was four-months pregnant with Franklin, my brother, she hired Ms. Eleanor Powell to be her doula. She was on bedrest for the latter half of her pregnancy due to a history of multiple early-term miscarriages. Ms. Powell was there each day, every day. She would cook her meals, encourage her laughter and alternate between singing and reading her to sleep. She was there the day that the doctors told my mother that she would deliver a still-born. It won't surprise you who held her as she wept.

When I was born, Ms. Powell was hired on as my full-time nanny and given a down-payment for the smaller house next door, and it was there that the wonderful Pearl Powell grew up.

Yes, she was bullied for her name.

I mean c'mon.

PP.

I gently pulled myself from the arms of the great Pearl "PP" Powell and drank in my surroundings.

The sunset was beautiful, one of the best I had ever seen. Pink and orange melted into one another as dark blue sky threatened to snuff out the entwined lovers. The ocean was a molten mirror to the conflict, and with each passing minute it became more clear who would prevail. I breathed in the salty winds.

There was a break in our immersion when a large man with a striking resemblance to Father Winter walked directly in front of us.

So much for  a private beach...

My best friend and I locked eyes, reading each other's minds. He was wearing a flame-printed speedo. We took that as our cue to leave and started the walk back to home base.

By the time Pearl and I finished getting ready, it was eight. I was wearing a white crop top and tan cargo pants, tailored of course.  I checked myself in the mirror one last time before leaving to grab drinks.

Gosh, my pores look huge.

My hair is so shiny and I love the way my bangs frame my face.

Why am I so bloated? I'll skip breakfast tomorrow.

"I'm leaving for the liquor store in five minutes! Anyone not in the car is getting left behind!" Perry shouted, slamming the front door behind him. The voice replaced my self-loathing thoughts with Perry-loathing thoughts, and I was finally able to tear my eyes from the bathroom mirror and begin the night.

Pearl exited my bedroom, having borrowed the space for a quick outfit change. She wore a red leather tank top and cowboy boots, a gift of mine that she'd held onto. I couldn't help but notice that there was a slight gap between her waist and the fabric of her denim shorts. It was a symptom of an ill fitting pair.

"Aren't you gunna be hot in that?" She asked, vaguely gesturing to my pants.

I shrugged. "We should only be out for thirty minutes. Plus, I turned the AC down."

"Suit yourself," Pearl grinned. "You ready?"

I nodded and we made our way to the rental car, making sure to lock up behind us. I pocketed the keys.

Pearl sat upfront this time and made polite small talk with Perry, so I tuned them out completely during the fifteen minute drive to The Tipsy Pirate Package Store.

Instead, I thought about Dean. I thought about the wedding I would need to plan when I got home in the fall. I thought of the tremendous amount of time I would spend choosing decorations, buying a dress, and taste testing wedding cakes. 

I have to write fake vows...

For a moment, I resented Dean, but only for a moment.

Dean was a good person and he and I shared a level of emotional vulnerability that I had only experienced with the Powells. He was honest with me, even though it meant risking his best kept secret. I chose this and he was decent enough to explain what that path would look like.

"You see, I'm not going to stop you from dating if you can find someone who would be comfortable with this kind of thing," Dean had said, gently. "Or from fucking whoever you want if that's more your style. But June... Hey, June look at me." He wiped the tears from my cheeks gently with soft fingertips before placing two fingers beneath my chin and lifting my gaze to his. Blue eyes on a Ken-Doll-face welled up with tears.

"I'm sorry that I'm not who you want me to be," he choked up. "I need you to know that I care for you in the ways that I can. I wanted to... feel the way that you felt for me, but I just didn't. I'm sorry. I should've told you the first time that Michael kissed me, I... I..." I pulled him in for a hug and he sobbed into my chest. We sat there for an hour, huddled together on that River Crest park bench, taking turns listening and speaking.

That was five and a half years ago.

I liked to think that I had come to terms with my current trajectory. I was going to marry a gay man and we would have to fake a marriage until his parents passed away. Every family event, every gala, every work party we would have to lie to the faces of family and coworkers, strangers and acquaintances. There were hundreds of reasons to doubt the success of this marriage, but millions of dollars were millions of reasons to stick it out.

There are few things in life that make me happier than money.

The realization struck me hard in the chest and I took a hit of my dab pen, stifling it.

I was thankful when I saw The Tipsy Pirate come into view.