Free The Summer Without You by Karen Swan Page A

I’ve had mounts put in for posters in the back of the car. Local businesses get to bid against each other to have their ads and special promotions inside the Humpers.
I’ve got a fleet of four Landys – with an option on another two if I decide to expand into the Amagansett beaches – which can take eight passengers at a time, and you can bet your
teeth that they’ll all be between eighteen and thirty-five and wondering where to go that night. I’ve estimated for each car to do six runs an hour for ten hours a day, so sixty runs
per car with eight passengers each time. That’s four hundred and eighty people per vehicle. Multiply by four of them and you’re looking at nearly two thousand
target
customers a
day. The ads have to change on a daily basis, so the riders get something new to look at. Plus all riders get free entry or a drink voucher or some sort of discount from the winning advertiser,
depending on the type of business they’ve got.’ He finished lacing the runner and fastened it with a reef knot. ‘Auctions close at midnight the day before, and I’ve got a
deal with the local printer to do short runs for us between six and eight in the morning, getting the posters printed before nine a.m. for the first run that day.’
    ‘Wow.’ Ro nodded, impressed. ‘That really is entrepreneurial thinking.’
    ‘I’ve been coming here my whole life. I know how pissed people get at having to fork out crazy money just to get to and from the beach. This way, we keep visitors happy and they use
the local businesses.’
    He shrugged and picked up the banner, carrying it outside. Ro followed after.
    ‘Can you attach that corner to the hook there?’ he asked, doing the same at his end.
    They both stepped back and admired the vivid banner hanging to the left above the door. The colours looked great – nautical, sporty, chic – against the pristine white woodwork.
    ‘Shouldn’t it be centred?’ Ro asked, suppressing a yawn as she pointed to the remaining area. Her long day was catching up with her, the adrenalin from her unpleasant encounter
on the beach now all but ebbed away and leaving her with a throbbing fatigue.
    ‘Aha!’ Hump said mysteriously, ducking indoors again and returning with a small box. ‘For you. A welcome present.’
    Ro looked at him quizzically as she took it. Inside was another banner – same dimensions, same font; even the colourway was identical – just reversed – with yellow writing on a
navy background: ‘Marmalade Family Media.’
    ‘You wouldn’t give me a name!’ he said, watching as her hands flew to her mouth. ‘I kept asking you.’
    ‘Because I didn’t know. I couldn’t decide!’ she laughed. ‘I can’t believe you did that! That was why you were asking?’
    He caught her eye and she saw he looked nervous. ‘Do you like it?’
    ‘I love it!’ she trilled, jumping on her toes and clapping her hands excitedly.
    ‘Yeah? ’Cos you don’t need to keep it. Far be it for me to be interfering with your business plans. I just thought . . . well, you needed something. Everyone has a sign out
here.’
    ‘Hump, it’s great. I could never have thought of such a good name. Come on, help me hang it up.’
    Together, they unfurled it, threading the eyelets with the cord and hanging it from the hooks beside the yellow banner.
    ‘We look good together,’ Hump said, crossing his arms, casting a sly look in her direction.
    Ro laughed, knowing his flirtation was half-hearted and more for appearance’s sake than anything. ‘No. We really don’t.’
    ‘Really, though?’
    ‘Really,’ she grinned, slapping him lightly on the arm.
    ‘Ah well, at least I can say I tried,’ he said, bouncing up the steps. Ro followed after, catching her foot on the top step and tummy-surfing in through the door.
    Hump turned with surprise and burst out laughing at the sight of her, arms outstretched.
    ‘Hey! What is it with you?’ he asked, helping her up. ‘You OK? You