The news wasn’t good. “Yo, Jay, I think we’re screwed tonight,” he said. Jason had just rolled out of bed, or couch, to be more precise, when Jeopardy! came on TV. He’d just shouted out the answer to the Daily Double and fist-pumped when he got it right. “I do know my Potent Potables,” he said, leaning back into the couch as the show faded into commercials. Tom jabbed his leg with his foot. “Are you listening to me?” “I’ll be honest with you, no. When my head’s in the game, the rest of the world is just white noise. What’s up?” “Everyone’s been texting me that the beaches are totally closed off.” “We already saw that this morning on the news.” He leaned over to grab a warm can of Pabst from the coffee table, downed the dregs and let loose with a heavy belch. “That was about the water. It’s more than that now. Kara, Greg, Skeets and Finn all said that the entrances to every beach have been blocked. There are cops and weird unmarked vans all over the place.
