Days Of St Croix

by Felicity Pepper

Eight

  Mills looked across the sea of heads in the dining hall. No sign of Jas or Tibby, but she saw Brand sitting by himself at the back, on a bench at the end of a long table that stretched beneath the oak panels and mounted, gold-embossed honor rolls of past St Croixians. He was immersed in a book, and she felt bad disturbing him, but she didn't feel like sitting by herself. She carried her tray of salad and dry crackers, Evian and macrobiotic soyghurt across the hall and slid onto the bench opposite.

  "Hey." She said, touching him lightly on the arm.

  "Hey." Brand replied, without looking up.

  "What are you reading?

  "The Stranger."

  "Good?"

  "'Good' is not the word I would use when describing the major works of existential fiction."

  Mills stared at Brand for a few seconds to see whether he was joking.

  "Ooookay." She said, finally, picking up a cracker and breaking it in half.

  "But, yes, it's quite good." He added, his eyes still on the page.

  "Worth reading?"

  "It's a novel that examines the futility of human existence through the lens of absurdity Can something that is concerned with futility be 'worth reading'?" He couldn't resist.

  "Oh, fuck off, Brand." Mills said, standing up and grabbing her tray.

  "Sit down, Mills. I'm just messing with you." He grinned. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing. Do you know where Jas is? I didn't see him when I came in."

  "No, I haven't seen him, either. He took off earlier this afternoon, though. Said he had to meet someone. Have you tried calling him?"

  "I keep getting his voicemail, and I don't want to leave, like, a thousand messages in case he thinks I'm some freakish stalker or something." She dipped a pinkie into the soyghurt and sucked it. "Damn, this is good."

  Brand reached his hand over and dipped a finger into the creamy white gloop.

  "Eww, Brand. Keep your fingers out of my food! What are you, like, a toddler?"

  "Damn, that is good." He agreed, licking his finger clean. Mills pushed the bowl aside and flicked at her salad with a fork.

  "Where's Tibby?" Brand asked, retrieving the bowl of soyghurt. He dipped again.

  "Making herself gorgeous for some old guy she's meeting tomorrow."

  "Uh, what?" Brand stopped, his finger inches from his mouth.

  Mills laughed.

  "It's not like that. It's some director person or something. I don't know, she wouldn't say much when I saw her earlier. Anyway, supposedly he's interested in her for a film he's making." Mills looked at Brand again and laughed. "You're hilarious."

  "What?"

  "It's just so obvious!"

  "What is?"

  "That you love Tibby."

  "Uh, whatever."

  "Oh, come on Brand. What's the problem? She's incredible. Don't be ashamed of it."

  "Ashamed of what? What are you talking about?" Brand looked down at his book. He felt his cheeks turning redder.

  "You are adorable, Brand. You like Tibby. I think it's great! Don't worry, I won't tell her if you don't want me to, but I have to warn you, it's totally obvious."

  Brand didn't say anything. Of course he thought Tibby was perfect, but he didn't realize he was so transparent. If Mills knew it, it was only a matter of time before everyone knew it. Brand wanted to curl up under the table and disappear, but at the same time, he had to admit that it felt kind of good to finally have the truth out in the open.

  "So, what do I do about it?" He said, finally.

  "Well, you know she says she's not into boys your age."

  "But she's our age, too!" Brand blurted out.

  "I guess she just wants to find someone more mature, maybe?

  Brand laughed bitterly.

  "Oh, come on Brand, you know what I mean. She just wants someone she can have a conversation with, who isn't just staring at her boobs the whole time."

  Brand was incredulous.

  "And she thinks an older guy won't stare at her boobs?"

  "If he's older, I guess he'll be more subtle about it?" Mills put her fork down and sipped her Evian. She had to admit that Brand had a good point.

  "So basically I have no chance with Tibby? Is that what you're saying?" Brand put his head in his hands and sighed.

  "Aww, don't be depressed. There's no way of knowing unless you try, Brand." Mills wiped her mouth with a napkin, then fished a Chapstick out of her purse and applied it to her lips.

  "So I should try asking her out, but definitely not stare at her boobs?"

  "That would be a great start. In fact, you should probably resolve to never stare at any woman's boobs. Unless, you know, she wants you to."

  Brand laughed again, shaking his head.

  "And then its okay?"

  "Of course. It would be rude not to."

  "Of course."

  Brand finished the soyghurt and pulled some gum out of his pocket. He offered a stick to Mills.

  "So when is she meeting this director?"

  "Tomorrow, for lunch. She said her mom is driving up from the city and taking her into town. I think she said they're going to Mirabelle, you know, the restaurant at the hotel?"

  "I wonder if she'd meet me afterwards for a drink." Brand pondered. The hotel had a bar downstairs where they could be alone. It seemed like her sort of place, too; classy, elegant, mature. Not the sort of place guys his age usually took girls for drinks. It was his best shot.

  Jas dropped another twenty dollar bill on the bar and scooped up two more Manhattans. He carried the low-ball glasses over to the booth where he had been sitting with Paige for almost two hours. A collection of used glasses littered the table until a barmaid noticed them and came over to gather them up. She gave the two drinkers a look, but knew better than to say anything; the bar staff had done very well out of these two, and the tips were generous. Jas watched the barmaid leave.

  "I've got to get back to school before someone notices I'm gone. It's almost ten o' clock." Jas felt the weight of numerous drinks on his stomach. He needed to piss.

  "And I need to make sure I can still get a hotel room." Paige smiled woozily from her comfortable spot. Jas held her gaze for a moment.

  "We can share a cab, if you like. There's a nice hotel about two miles east of here, on the way back to St Croix. The Imperial. They'll have a room. My parents stay there when they're in town visiting me. I'll drop you off on the way."

  "Okay, mister."

  "Be right back. I'm going to the restroom, and I'll call a cab for us." Jas got up carefully and navigated his way through the bar. Many of the drinkers from earlier had gone home, but there were still two dozen or so congregated around the tables. Jas had definitely drunk more than this before, but he hadn't eaten dinner, and the last couple of bourbon cocktails had gone to his head. Up on the wall beside the bar was a collage of cab company business cards, and he pulled one down and took it into the bathroom with him, dialing his cellphone as he stood in front of the urinal. The cab ordered, he checked himself out in the bathroom mirror. His eyes looked sleepy, but not bloodshot, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes and put his coat on, taking a pack of Marlboros out of the pocket along with his Zippo lighter.

  Back in the bar, Paige was sitting with her eyes closed. She looked peaceful, with a slight smile on her face. Her black hair hung across her forehead, the clip removed. Jas breathed in deeply and tried to feel less drunk. It sort of worked. He worked his jaw a few times, blinked his eyes, cracked his neck and shrugged. That usually worked for a few minutes if he needed to concentrate. He walked back over to the booth.

  "Paige?" He touched her arm gently and she opened her eyes. "I'm going outside for a cigarette, and wait for the cab."

  "I'll come, too. I could use some fresh air."

  She lifted herself up from the chair and moved around the table, stumbling on the edge and falling forwards. Jas caught her easily. Perhaps I'm not as drunk as I thought, he said to him
self. He held Paige around the waist as she regained her footing.

  "Sorry!" She laughed. "What a klutz!"

  "It's fine. It's always awkward getting out of these."

  "Too much to drink." She giggled, putting her hands on Jas's shoulders and leaning in to him. Her face came really close to his, their noses almost touching, and she smiled a lovely wide, tipsy smile that spread across her whole face. Her breath was boozy, but Jas didn't care. Right now he wanted to kiss her more than anything. He slid his hand from around her waist and moved it up her back, then he closed the last few inches between their lips and she responded, opening her mouth slightly and kissing him generously.

  Maybe because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he first met her on the beach in Carmel, or maybe because it was just so different from kissing Mills, or maybe because he'd had two pints and three cocktails, but when Paige kissed, him Jas's whole body lit up and sparkled inside. His stomach turned into marshmallow and his legs felt weak. He felt her tongue gently push against his own, and her mouth tasted warm and sweet. After a moment, he felt her pull away.

  "How about that cigarette?"