Coconut Grove nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

“Nope,” he said with convincing casualness. Druid looked at him speculatively but saw no real reason to doubt his answer. Perhaps he really did just think it was a masculine name.

She turned her attention to the water too, eyes roving the shallows. She was used to fishing calm, still waters. Maybe Druid really did just need to stand still and wait for a tickle, then snatch at it. Sight wasn’t going to be much of an asset in these churning waters.

For reasons unknown to her, Druid felt compelled to share with the stranger, I don’t know him, either. I’ve never so much as met him. He left before I was born. Abruptly, she remembered the lie and added, I’m not sure why my mother named me after him. She might as well have named me Trash.