Page 5 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

“Not the interesting ones. Babe, you two were quite the item back in the day. Literally everyone thought you two were going to get married.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Ricky.”

“What?”

“You have no idea how much I would like to enjoy my coffee in peace.”

“Oh, I know exactly how much. That’s why I’m staying.”

June snorted into her coffee, and I bounced my gaze between them. “This is harassment," I informed them sternly.

“This,” Ricky said, gesturing around the diner, “is community.”

“That’s a very generous definition.”

“I remember you two back then,” June said, a soft smile on her face. “You always came in here for burgers or soft-shell crab. You were adorable.”

“We were seventeen.”

“Eighteen when you went to prom,” Ricky reminded me unhelpfully.

“Thank you for remembering that.”

“I remember the suit.”

I stared at him. “You remember my prom suit?”

“I remember Josiah’s suit, too.”

“Why?”

“Because you both looked good. Unlike Jack Stern and his powder blue monstrosity with the ruffled shirt he rented from that place in Salisbury.”

June was openly grinning now.

I pointed at her. “Don’t encourage him.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.” She pinched two fingers together and held them up to show me how much.

Ricky leaned back against the booth. “So, are you going to see him?”

“No.”

“That was quick.”

“Because the answer is simple.”

“You’re not even curious?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to know what he’s been doing?” he cajoled.

“I already know.”