Read Online Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) by Lyla Dune - Free Book Online Page A

prissy.”Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
    “Remember what happened last time you stayed down there? Don’t do that to yourself again. Come stay with me.”
    A few years ago, when Sam hadn’t taken any Xanax before attempting to sleep in the dungeon while the Marshalls were in town, Leah had come to her rescue. Sam had propped the door open so she wouldn’t feel trapped, but during the night a gust of wind had caused the door to close. The blasted thing had gotten stuck. Sam panicked and hyper-ventilated. Within minutes, Sam had spiraled into the mother of all panic attacks.  
    Her palms began to sweat just thinking about it.  
    She’d managed to phone Leah, who’d come rushing over. After Leah wrenched the door open, she took Sam to the hospital. Sam had blacked out before they got to the ER. The rest of the evening remained a blur.
    Scary memory, but that was years ago. She was better now. She hoped.
    Sam patted Leah’s arm. “I’m good. I promise to take my meds this time.”  
    Leah gave her a doubtful frown.
    “Seriously, I’m fine. I’ll be sure to call if I have the slightest twinge of anxiety.”
    “I don’t know why you didn’t just stay in the master bedroom like the guy offered. You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
    “I love you too.”
    That made the creases in Leah’s brow fade as she broke into a bright smile. “All right. Have it your way. Let’s go get tuned up.”
    They joined Mazy and Kendal, giving Sam a chance to answer a few of their questions about Brock and her current situation. She kept it short, and let them know she was done talking about it for the night. They didn’t press it any further. Subject closed, they set to the task of tuning their instruments and rushing through their warmups.  
    The clock struck six. Showtime.  
    “One, two...one, two, three, four.” Mazy counted in, clicking her sticks overhead.
    The band started out with a double-time swing. Sam walked her fingers up the bass line at top speed. Leah took a sax lead with a bebop introduction harmonized by Kendal on the keys, while Mazy brushed the high hat cymbal and snare with a syncopated beat.  
    Their music shot out like a cannon, just the way Sam liked it. No sissy-tiptoeing into the water, getting used to it before diving under. No, sir. Just jump. Head first into the jazz pool.
    The patrons stopped eating and looked up, their heads bouncing along to the beat and their feet tapping.  
    Sam caught Leah’s eye. Leah leaned way back with her sax tilted toward the ceiling and trilled, slapping a side-key so fast her hand became a blur.
    Hell yeah. This was exactly what Sam needed.
    Kendal took the first improvised solo, fisting treble cluster chords that cascaded into intricate double handed runs, proof the girl knew her stuff, a virtuoso by the highest standards.
    Leah stood back, her eyes shifting from one band member to the next, patting her sax and neck-grooving to the jam.
    Mazy kept the beat churning, brush-spanking the high hat with her left hand while twirling the other brush in her right.  
    Sam stomped that walking bass line into the ground, thumped it out, ripe and juicy, fat bottom notes resonating through the hardwood floor.  
    “Get it, girls.” Carl, the local ostrich farmer called out, his wrinkly carved-apple-looking face pulled into a jack-o-lantern grin with a couple teeth missing. His turkey neck stuck out of a tacky neon-fish motif button-down. White shorts, skinny pale bird legs, black socks, and brown sandals finished off his ensemble.
    Kendal dragged the back of her hand across the keys, pounced on those runs, and tossed her curls.
    Aww man, this was good stuff.
    “Take it, Leah,” hollered Jack, Leah’s handsome and happily married brother, dressed in black from head to toe, slaying his air-drums as his chin-length brown hair flayed about his face. Leah adjusted her neck strap and drew her sax to her lips. She gave an upward nod to Mazy. Bam. Mazy smashed both ride