Page 31 of Fake Dark Vows

Heat floods my cheeks, and I can’t even look at Brandon. Is he wondering why he didn’t get the same level of instruction, or will he chalk this up to another instance of me interfering in his life? He probably thinks that Artie and I are distant cousins plotting against him to prevent him from winning the treasure hunt.

Like it’s a matter of life and death.

I remember what Artie said about expanding my lungs, trying to ignore his hand on my diaphragm, and blow. I almost drop the conch in shock when it produces a low sound that could potentially pass as a beginner’s first attempt at playing a wind instrument.

“Yay!” Georgie claps her hands. “Rose did it.”

“Not bad,” Artie says. “Try again, but this time, slide your hand inside the body like this.” Artie’s fingers close around mine.

Keeping my eyes on the shell, I try again. This time I move my fingers like a child playing the recorder and manage to produce two distinct sounds before I run out of breath.

Artie’s smile is genuine, and I can’t help smiling back.

“Can we go now?” Georgie asks.

“Not yet.” Brandon unlocks his phone and aims the camera at me. “We still need a tune.”

“I can’t play a tune,” I say.

I recall Kelly’s giggles when we set the challenge on Ruby’s porch over a shared pitcher of lemonade. “It’ll be fun,” she said. “Everyone comes to Key Largo to play a conch.”

“Something simple.” Brandon asserts his authority, letting me know that refusal isn’t an option.

“Like what?”

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Georgie says.

“Easy.” Artie stands between me and Brandon and tells me to hear the tune inside my head when I blow. “Trust me, if you can hear it, we’ll hear it.”

I don’t share his confidence, but before I can come up with an excuse that Brandon might buy, he steps aside, and Brandon says, “Ready? Go.”

Deep breath. I forget my half-assed plans to ditch Brandon at the first stop and catch a ride back to Ruby Island with someone else. Instead, I close my eyes and remind myself that this is living the dream according to the world’s social media influencers.

I don’t even cringe when the first note slides painfully into the second. I do what Artie said and follow the nursery rhyme playing inside my head. When I reach the end, my brain cells are spinning, and I’m breathless.

But Brandon is smiling at me. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve completed the first challenge or if he’s pleasantly surprised at my conch-blowing skills, but it makes me feel like the sun came out from behind a cloud, just for us.

Then, a slow clap penetrates my fuzzy head, and I glance up to find Damon heading our way, Jennifer a couple of paces behind him.

“Technically, I’m not sure it counts as a tune,” he says, “but the fact that you’re playing, Rose, while my brother holds the camera is music to my ears. Have we finally discovered something that Brandon Weiss isn’t good at?”

“It’s called teamwork, Damon,” Brandon says, pocketing his cellphone. “You should look it up in the dictionary sometime.”

And, just like that, the sun goes in again. I don’t know what has happened in the past between the two brothers, but whatever it is, it’s a major contribution to Brandon’s chin-jutting stuffiness.

CHAPTER 11

Brandon

“That’s cheating,” Rose says when I tell her that we’re skipping the next two challenges and heading straight to the fourth because it makes sense.

Islamorada is the closest key, and there’s no point traveling back and forth between the islands in the name of following the rules. Besides, the Rain Barrel Village might provide us with some assistance in completing the third challenge. You have to see the bigger picture if you want to win.

“Do you honestly think that anyone else in this game is going to add pointless miles and time to their journey by adhering to the list you and Kelly drew up?”

She watches me from the seating area on the speedboat, with her life vest on, and Georgie dozing on her lap, her thumb in her mouth. Her hair is already salt tangled from the ocean breeze and her cheeks are pink. It’s almost impossible to connect her to the woman in the Weiss Tower lobby with the sandwich-filled container and too much attitude, and I remind myself that she ended up here against all the odds because of her own agenda.

“Well, yes,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.