Sitting on her lounger at the beach, Presley was ready to scream with frustration. The blowhard man who’d followed her from breakfast down to the beach wouldn’t give it up.
His name was Algernon. He wore a tiny banana hammock under his protruding gut. He was bald and bragged how he didn’t have hair anywhere on his body at all, wiggling his eyebrows in what Presley was certain he meant to be suggestive. The thought was confirmed when he said no hair meant she wouldn’t be picking it out from her teeth when they became closer during the vacation.
She’d tried to ignore him, putting her earbuds in and picking up a book she’d brought to read but now he boldly removed the earbud from her ear and was asking her if she wanted to get out of the heat and get into the water with him.
“We could swim
