I take a sip of wine and watch him through the window. I recognize his date as a fellow Devil’s Dip girl. She’s putting on a polished accent and clinging onto her designer purse like it’s a lifeline, but I can see right through her act. I watch as she coils her long blond hair around her finger, giggling at whatever he’s saying. I get it. From the way he smokes his cigarette to the way he wears his suit—unbuttoned collar and a loosened tie—there’s an air of rebellion about him that makes girls want to drop their panties. Of course, it helps that he runs the nightlife in Devil’s Cove, so even
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