The ice cream hut sat between the family beach and the adult only walkway. It was a neutral territory, dangerous overlap.
It was late afternoon on boxing day, the hour when parents needed caffeine and children needed sugar.
Eliot stood in the short queue with Liam perched on his hip, trying to decide between mango sorbet and chocolate dipped vanilla.
Three men in front of them wore the uniform of old money. pastel linen shirts, Rolexes the size of coasters, loafers without socks.
They seemed to be in their late thirties. They were loud and already drunk on overpriced rosé. One of them kept glancing back.
Eliot felt the stare and ignored it. When they reached the counter, Liam pointed excitedly at the chocolate dipped cone with rainbow sprinkles. Eliot shifted him higher and pulled ou
