Twisted Magic
“Every circular table was draped with sea foam green tablecloths and seashell centerpieces. The windows were bedazzled with sand dollars around every window frame, and the floor’s tiles were emblazoned with tiny shells itself.
“I don’t understand the ambience of this place. We live by the ocean. Why would someone want to come inside and stare at it some more?” I asked Nona. She pushed my cookie toward me, shooting me a bothered stare.
“People live in Cherry because they enjoy the ocean. They want the ocean up close and personal.” She smacked her hand down on the table with a loud whap. “Clive knows business. He knows what sells. And he is going to sell you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“Is what illegal?” Nona looked around; the passing waitress was dressed in nothing more than short turquoise shorts, and a white t-shirt tied at the waist. Their bodies were bronze like goddesses, and their hair was swept up with seashell barrettes.
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