Star catcher

The late September sun hung low over Crestwood's coastline, painting the waves with streaks of gold as they crashed against the shore. Anne stood at the water's edge, her bare feet sinking into the wet sand, the hem of her sundress fluttering in the salty breeze. She'd suggested the beach trip on a whim—a Saturday escape from the bar's grind and Deon's relentless deadlines. The past week had been heavy, Elias's cryptic visit lingering like a shadow over their new life, and she craved the ocean's roar to drown it out.Deon waded a few feet out, jeans rolled to his knees, his green jacket slung over a driftwood log back on the beach. He grinned as a wave splashed him, shaking water from his hair like a dog. "This was a good call," he called over the surf. "Beats staring at a screen."Anne laughed, kicking a spray of water toward him. "Told you. Fresh air's better than ink fumes."He splashed back, and for a moment, they were kids again—playful, unburdened, the weight of their past and Elias's warnings swept away by the tide. They'd packed a cooler with sandwiches and beer, spread a blanket under a weathered umbrella, and planned a day of nothing but sun and sea. It felt like a reset, a chance to breathe.But the beach wasn't theirs alone. As they trudged back to the blanket, a figure emerged from the dunes—tall, broad-shouldered, with a mop of sun-bleached hair and a tie-dye shirt that screamed summer. He carried a megaphone in one hand and a stack of flyers in the other, his stride purposeful yet bouncy, like a man who thrived on attention."Hey, folks!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the wind. "You here for the waves or the world? Either way, I've got something for you!"Anne raised an eyebrow, wiping sand from her hands. "What's this guy on about?"Deon frowned, his grin fading. "Looks like a crusader. Probably selling something."The man zeroed in on them, his grin wide and toothy. "Name's Gary," he said, thrusting a flyer at Anne. "Running a little rally down the shore—clean energy, fair wages, the whole deal. You two look like you care about the planet, right?"Anne took the flyer, scanning it—Vote for Change: Gary's Coastal Coalition. "Uh, sure," she said, polite but wary. "We're just here to relax, though.""No pressure!" Gary said, his energy undimmed. "Relaxation's key—gotta recharge to fight the good fight. You local?""Sort of," Anne replied, folding the flyer. "I run a bar in Crestwood—The Dandelion Pour."Gary's eyes lit up. "No kidding! Heard of it—great spot. I'm in town pushing some initiatives—might swing by for a drink. You're Anne, then?""Yeah," she said, warming slightly to his enthusiasm. "This is Deon."Deon nodded curtly, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey."Gary clapped him on the shoulder, a touch too familiar. "Deon, huh? You've got that brooding artist vibe—bet you're the brains behind something big.""Journalist," Deon said, stepping back just enough to break contact. "Crestwood Chronicle.""Love that rag!" Gary exclaimed, oblivious to Deon's stiffness. "You should write about my campaign—get the word out. People need to hear this stuff.""Maybe," Deon said, his tone flat. "Not really my beat."Gary shrugged, undeterred. "Fair enough. Stick around, Anne—you'd be a hit at the rally. We need voices like yours."He bounded off toward a cluster of beachgoers, megaphone blaring, leaving Anne amused and Deon visibly tense."Guy's a walking billboard," Deon muttered, kicking at the sand. "Didn't like how he looked at you."Anne smirked, spreading out on the blanket. "He's just loud. Harmless."Deon sat beside her, cracking open a beer. "Maybe. Still don't trust him."She nudged him with her elbow. "Jealous?"He snorted, but his eyes softened. "Nah. Just… protective."She let it drop, leaning back to watch the waves, but Deon's unease lingered, a quiet hum beneath their afternoon.They spent the next hour in the surf, collecting shells and dodging jellyfish, the sun climbing higher. Anne found a perfect spiral conch and tucked it into her bag, while Deon lobbed pebbles into the tide, his aim sharpening with each toss. The beach stretched wide and wild around them, gulls wheeling overhead, and for a while, Gary's interruption faded into the background.Then a familiar voice cut through the salt air. "Travers! You hiding from deadlines out here?"Deon turned, shielding his eyes, and grinned. "Hey, boss."Kim Blair strode toward them, her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail, a beach bag slung over her shoulder. She wore sunglasses and a faded Chronicle T-shirt, a rare break from her office armor. "Thought I'd catch some rays before the next issue buries me," she said, dropping her bag beside their umbrella. "Didn't expect to find you two.""Spontaneous trip," Anne said, sitting up. "Good to see you, Kim.""Likewise," Kim replied, nodding at the cooler. "Got an extra beer?"Deon handed her one, settling back on the blanket. "What's up at the office?""Chaos," Kim said, popping the cap. "Your artist piece blew up—readers want more. Editor's pushing for a series. You're a star, Travers, whether you like it or not."He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'm stuck with it.""Damn right," Kim said, then glanced at Anne. "You keeping him in line?""Trying," Anne laughed. "Bar keeps me busy, though.""Still killing it?" Kim asked."Yeah," Anne said, pride flickering in her voice. "Thinking of live music soon—maybe pull in a bigger crowd.""Smart," Kim said, sipping her beer. "You two are a power couple—bar queen and ink king."Anne flushed, and Deon grinned, but before they could respond, Gary's megaphone blared again, closer now. He'd circled back, a small group trailing him—sunburned teens and a few older folks clutching his flyers."Anne!" he called, waving like they were old friends. "Knew you'd stick around!"She waved back, half-hearted, while Deon's jaw tightened. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Who's the loudmouth?""Gary," Deon said, his tone clipped. "Some political wannabe. Thinks he's saving the world."Gary bounded over, megaphone dangling at his side. "Caught you at a good time! Rally's starting—gonna talk coastal erosion, jobs, all that jazz. You in?""Pass," Deon said, not looking up from his beer.Anne hesitated, caught by Gary's grin. "Maybe for a bit. Sounds interesting."Deon shot her a look, but Gary clapped his hands. "Perfect! You're a natural—bet you'd rally a crowd at that bar of yours."Kim smirked, watching the exchange. "He's got charm, I'll give him that.""Too much," Deon muttered.Gary plopped onto the sand nearby, launching into a spiel about renewable energy, his voice a rapid-fire mix of passion and buzzwords. Anne listened, nodding along, drawn in despite herself—his energy was infectious, his ideas sharp. Deon stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon, but Kim leaned into the conversation, tossing Gary a few pointed questions he deflected with practiced ease."You're good at this," Anne said after a while. "Ever thought of running a bar night? You'd pack the place."Gary's eyes gleamed. "Now that's an idea. You host, I talk—could be a win-win. Boost your crowd, spread the word.""Could work," she said, warming to it. "I'll think it over."Deon shifted, his voice low. "You sure about that?"She glanced at him, sensing his edge. "It's just business, Deon. Networking."Gary caught the tension, his grin widening. "Hey, no pressure, man. Just two friends brainstorming.""We're not friends," Deon said, his tone flat but firm.Gary laughed, unbothered. "Fair enough. I'll win you over yet—you'll see I'm the real deal."He stood, brushing sand from his shorts. "Gotta rally the troops. Catch you later, Anne—let's talk that bar night!"He jogged off, megaphone blaring anew, and Kim whistled. "He's a lot.""Too much," Deon said, cracking his knuckles. "Guy's playing an angle—I feel it."Anne frowned, unpacking a sandwich. "He's just enthusiastic. What's he done wrong?""Nothing yet," Deon said, his eyes on Gary's retreating form. "That's the problem. He's too slick."Kim shrugged, stretching out on the blanket. "He's a politician—comes with the territory. But yeah, watch him, Anne. Energy like that can turn fast."Anne nodded, but her mind lingered on Gary's offer. A bar night could draw attention, boost The Dandelion Pour—and he seemed genuine enough. She handed Deon a sandwich, brushing off his glare. "Eat. Relax. He's not worth the stress."He took it, but his silence spoke volumes.The afternoon faded into a lazy sprawl—Kim napped under the umbrella, Anne read a paperback she'd brought, and Deon skimmed the waves, his mood easing with the tide. Gary's rally echoed faintly down the beach, a distant hum of chants and cheers, but he didn't return, leaving them in peace.As the sun dipped low, Kim sat up, stretching. "Gotta head back—early meeting tomorrow. You two good?""Yeah," Anne said, packing the cooler. "Thanks for stopping by.""Anytime," Kim said, then clapped Deon's shoulder. "Keep shining, Travers. And keep an eye on that Gary—he's got shark vibes."Deon smirked. "Noted."She left, her figure shrinking against the dunes, and Anne turned to Deon, the blanket bunched under her arm. "You really don't like him.""Don't trust him," he corrected, grabbing the umbrella. "He's too eager—wants something from you.""Maybe he just likes me," she teased, but his frown didn't budge."He's not your type," he said, softer now. "You're smarter than his game."She stepped closer, nudging him. "You're sweet when you're protective.""Someone's gotta be," he said, his grin breaking through.They walked back to the car, the beach fading behind them, the surf's roar a steady pulse. Anne liked Gary's spark, his ideas, but Deon's wariness gnawed at her—his instincts had been right about Justin, after all. As they drove home, the sunset bleeding red across the sky, she wondered what Gary's charm concealed—and whether it would pull her into something she couldn't control.