Wes hadn’t yet read the smaller text on the sign, but he’d spotted the words BOYCOTT, MAYOR, and PHALLUS in the all-caps headline. He figured he had the gist. The man wasn’t giving up, despite Helen’s magnificent smack-down at the presentation. Sure, Frank hadn’t asked any more questions, but he’d made a point of cornering the Niceville Daily News reporters again after the talk ended. And now, of course, he was trying to gain traction for the boycott. Wes doubted many people who’d attended the meeting would take one of those flyers, though. Not after the way Helen had laid it out for Mr. Skagway. God, he adored that agile, sharp tongue of hers, especially when it wasn’t slicing into him. Speaking of Helen . . . where the hell was she? She was taking an unusually long time to join him, even though she’d said she’d meet him outside in only a minute or two. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was chatting with that redheaded guy. The guy whose evening with Helen he’d interrupted the other night.
