How would that change anything? No, wait, the word wasn’t revenge.
“Justice,” she said. That was the word.
Diana felt a chill that shivered her flesh and thrilled her mind.
Justice. Revenge. Call it whatever. They were afraid.
Her reflection became clear in the mirror, a face floating in a small circle made in the haze. Her dark, sad eyes stared back at her.
How many times had she looked into her own eyes, hoping to find something there? Something other than weakness and self-hatred. How many times had she looked and seen the eyes of a victim staring back at her, a contemptible, weak, disgusting…
They. Were. Afraid.
Her hand was clutching the handle of the dryer so tightly the plastic began to snap.
And then Diana did see something new in the eyes that looked back at her. She had already done something to hurt Adam, hadn’t she? She’d told Summer the truth, and look what had happened.
Diana laughed out loud, a strange, wild sound. Yes, she had already hurt one of the Merricks with a simple statement of truth.
That’s what they were afraid of. They were afraid of the truth.
Maybe they should be.
“Marquez! Pick up! Now!”
J.T.’s voice could be heard clear from the kitchen, through the swinging doors, over the chattering sound of the precheck computer and above the clatter of the bartender rapidly restocking his glasses.
Marquez gritted her teeth. Oh, J.T. was in rare form today. She hefted a tray of dirty dishes and hitched it in one swift move high up over her head. She barreled toward the swinging doors, stuck out her foot and kicked it open. She slammed the dirty dishes down at the dish station.
“I heard you the first four times you screamed my name!” Marquez yelled.
“I shouldn’t have to call you more than once, Marquez. If you weren’t off flirting for tips, you’d be here to pick up your food.”
J.T. was tall, a handsome, nineteen-year-old blond with calm, mellow-looking blue eyes. Usually. The mellow look was not in evidence right now. His white cook’s apron was stained green, red, and other colors that defied identification. He was sweating heavily and looked as if he might at any moment use the fourteen-inch chef’s knife in his hand for some evil purpose.
Despite everything, Marquez felt a twinge of attraction to him. There was something cute about J.T. when he was in one of his towering cook’s rages.
“You don’t need to worry about my flirting.” She glanced at her pad and at the dinner plates sitting up on the line. “Hah! The fries go on the pompano, the bake goes with the lobster. Hah. And you’re screaming at me?” She added several words in Spanish that made the Guatemalan dishwasher grin. Then she added several more.
Summer, who was nearby ladling chowder into bowls, looked over discreetly. J.T. scared Summer, Marquez knew. At least a little. Summer didn’t know him the way Marquez did.
“Don’t curse at me in languages I don’t understand,” J.T. grumbled. He quickly shifted the potatoes.
“Hey, you must not even understand English or you would have gotten the order right in the first place.”
“If you’d have picked up your order on time, you’d have spotted the problem earlier,” J.T. said, shaking his finger at her.
“Don’t you shake that at me,” Marquez warned. She tried to look fierce, but darn it, now he was smiling. “Jerk,” she said, loading the plates onto her tray.
“Lianne, pick up!” J.T. yelled.
Naturally, Lianne appeared instantly, bustling her tiny, eternally thin, never-even-have-to-think-about-a-diet shape through the swinging door.
“It’s so nice working with a real professional wait-ron,” J.T. said, directing the sarcastic comment over Lianne’s head at Marquez.
Marquez cursed at him under her breath. As she headed out to the dining room she heard a mock-angry J.T. say, “Lianne, did you hear that? I wish you’d have a talk with her about her attitude.”
Suddenly, Marquez heard J.T. yelp in pain. She glanced back just in time to see that he had burned the palm of his left hand as he reached for a spatula and pressed the side of the oven instead.
At the same instant, Summer recoiled from the bowl she was handling. She raised her left hand and looked at the palm. “Ouch,” she said. “I didn’t think it was that hot.”
Marquez shook her head. No. It was a simple coincidence. J.T. burned himself at least twice per shift, and Summer had been handling hot soup bowls.
But it had happened at the same instant. The same parts of the same hands.
Later, when the rush was over and Marquez could take a break, she hooked up with Summer, who was looking a bit frazzled, leaning against the counter in the waitress station as she swallowed an aspirin with a big glass of water.
“Give me one of those,” Marquez said wearily. “Is it your feet or your back that hurts?”
“Feet, back, and all parts in between,” Summer muttered. She handed the bottle to Marquez. “And your boyfriend! I hate to say anything bad about anyone…”
Marquez smiled affectionately. Summer actually did hate to say anything bad about anyone. “He’s my ex-boyfriend,” Marquez said. “And yeah, he was raggin’ big time today. It’s because Skeet called in sick, so he’s doing extra work.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize that. Now I feel bad. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”
“You got mad? What did you do, tell him to go to heck?” Marquez laughed.
Even Summer laughed. “You know, I have a lot of hostility down deep inside.”
“Well, J.T. keeps his hostility right up front where he can reach it easily. It’s funny, you two being so different.” Marquez didn’t realize what she was saying until she’d said it. She gulped hard. Probably Summer wouldn’t even notice.
No, Summer might be a sweet blonde, but she was not a dumb one.
“What do you mean by that?” Summer asked.
“What?”
“Why would it be funny if J.T. and I were different?”
“Did I say that?” Marquez took a long swallow of iced tea.
“I thought you did,” Summer said, tilting her head and giving Marquez a quizzical look.
“Why would I have said that? It wouldn’t make any sense,” Marquez pointed out.
“Oh.”
“Exactly,” Marquez said. Man, that had been close. Close and stupid, she realized as she poured three pitchers of iced tea. It was all a ridiculous idea, anyway. What were the odds that somehow J.T. was Summer’s long-lost brother, Jonathan? About a million to one?
Of course, the age was right, so that lowered the odds a little, some relentlessly logical corner of Marquez’s mind pointed out. And they were both white. Both blond. And in some ways they looked at least a little bit alike.
Marquez shook her head. This was nuts. It was beyond nuts.
“Guess what I’m doing tomorrow morning?” Summer said. “Scuba diving.”
“Scuba diving?” Marquez said. “Cool. Everybody says the Keys are the place to scuba dive. Me, I like air. What are you doing, taking lessons?”
“Yes. From Seth.”
Marquez’s jaw dropped. “You sleazebag.” She laughed. “Boom, out with the old, in with the new. That’s my girl, Summer—don’t waste any time. I mean, any time.”
Summer made a face. “It’s not what you think.”
“No, of course not,” Marquez said. “So, what’s the deal? You talked to Seth this morning and he did an airport on you?” She leered. Then she realized Summer wasn’t denying it. “You slut! You let him kiss you?”
“Shhh.” Summer glanced around nervously. “He’s broken up with Lianne, but there’s no point in making her feel bad.”
“Speaking of broken up…” Marquez grabbed the handles of two pitchers of iced tea in one hand. “The kitchen animals need their liquids.” She shook her head. “Little Summer Smith from Horsepuckey, Iowa, can move.”
“Bloomington, Minnesota,” Summer yelled as Marquez h
eaded for the kitchen. “And it’s not like I just met Seth.”
Cooks were not allowed out of the kitchen, so waitresses generally brought them something cold to drink at the end of a shift. Generally, when J.T. was working everyone understood that Marquez took care of the duty. That, at least, had not changed since their breakup.
As she neared the kitchen she could hear the sound of rock music. The Ramones were pounding out “Teenage Lobotomy” from the CD player. It was one of the throwbacks the cooks liked to play at the end of a tough shift, a sort of goof on the intensity of work, shouting out “lo-bo-to-my” with the chorus.
Marquez was dancing before she reached the door, using the iced tea pitchers as a partner.
She backed through the swinging doors, executed a neat spin, and set the teas on the counter. She had both hands over her head and was rocking out fairly fiercely before she spotted J.T drinking a large glass of tea.
A glass that had apparently been handed to him by Lianne, who was standing nearby, smiling up at him.
J.T. looked at Marquez. Marquez looked at Lianne. Lianne spared a brief glance at Marquez, then returned her full attention to J.T.
“Oh, hey, thanks, Marquez,” J.T. said, seeming embarrassed.
“Yeah,” Marquez said. “No problem.”
She walked back out to the dining room. Lianne caught up with her.
“Hey, Marquez, I didn’t know you were pouring drinks, too.”
“I do that sometimes,” Marquez said. She was steaming, but since she had no good reason to be angry she couldn’t let Lianne see it. Let it go, Marquez told herself.
Lianne put her arm on Marquez’s shoulder to stop her.
Not a good idea.
“You want something?” Marquez snapped.
“Look, it’s not like I was doing anything sneaky.”
Oh, no, no, Marquez thought. Like I don’t recognize that whole tilted-head, smiling, laughing, admiring-look thing. Like I haven’t used it on guys myself. “Oh, I know that,” Marquez said poisonously. “I know you’re still totally into Seth. Right? In fact, you guys are so tight you’re not even worried that he’s taking Summer scuba diving tomorrow.”
Yeah, chew on that, Marquez thought. Hah. Yeah, hah! Summer told you that in confidence, Marquez, and you blurted it out just because you were angry at J.T.
But to Marquez’s surprise, Lianne did not explode. Instead she just looked a little wistful. “Sethie and Summer.” She sighed. “I guess…I guess I have no choice but to let that go. I was stupid to try so hard to hang on. I guess I’d gotten to the point of thinking Seth was the only guy in the world. And I was upset. But you know what?” She brightened. “Summer vacation will come to an end, and we’ll both go back to Eau Claire. Maybe Seth needs his little summer fling. So to speak. And maybe I should follow his example. Why get so upset? This is Crab Claw Key, right? The land of total freedom. The place with no rules. So, yes, maybe I should let Seth go for now, and see what other fun things there are to do.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe you could take up skydiving,” Marquez said. “Maybe you could try it without the parachute.”
“What a good idea,” Lianne said, batting her eyes. “Or maybe I could just take up J.T. He’s tall. I like tall guys. Do you think he likes petite, slender girls? Or is he just into…bigger girls, like you?”
Do not lose your temper, Marquez ordered herself. Do not go off on her, she’d just enjoy it, the sneaky little… She took a deep breath. It was all for the best. It was over between her and J.T. It was a time of change. Summer and Adam were finished; Seth and Lianne were finished; she and J.T. were finished.
Time to move on. Time to let it go.
“You want J.T?” Marquez said coolly. “He’s all yours.”
Very mature, she congratulated herself as she walked away. Very sensible. When a relationship came to an end it was only natural that people would move on.
Only, she hadn’t expected J.T. to be able to move on quite this quickly. Fine. If that’s the way he wanted to be, she’d show him some moving on.
7
Not for Sale at the Mall of America
“This will be the day when I finally cross over the line that separates the tan from the untan,” Summer said. She lay back on the blanket and contemplated the red glow that came through her closed eyelids.
“This will be the day when I cross the line that separates the chubby thighs from the unchubby thighs,” Marquez said, lying beside her, but on her stomach. She looked down the beach, eyes shielded by sunglasses and a green plastic visor. “Because, see, that guy down there with the totally ripped abs is not going to be interested in chubby thighs.”
“Don’t make me look at guys,” Summer groaned. “If I have to roll over I’ll get all sandy. Besides, what does lying in the sun have to do with chubby thighs?”
“Oh, fine, so you do think I have chubby thighs.”
Summer sighed. “Marquez, you do not have chubby thighs. You have perfect thighs. If I were a guy, I’d go nuts for your thighs. No one in the entire history of the United States has ever had thighs to equal your thighs.”
“So you’re saying women in other countries have much better thighs?”
“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Summer said.
“Not talking to me? Good. Then I guess I can tell you,” Marquez said. “Because if you’re not talking to me you can’t yell at me. See, I may have kind of accidentally told Lianne you were going scuba diving with Seth.”
“I am now officially talking to you again,” Summer announced. “Kind of told Lianne?”
“As in I definitely told her. Look, I was mad,” Marquez explained. “I thought she was coming on to J.T.”
“The guy you don’t care about,” Summer said dryly.
“I don’t.”
“I see. You just get mad when some girl talks to him.”
“Exactly. If I have to be broken up, I don’t want him off having a good time somewhere,” Marquez said. “So I told her about you and Seth because I just wanted to have something to rub her face in.”
“Oh, great,” Summer said. “I can’t believe you let that slip.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It was pretty low. But it was Lianne…”
Silence fell for a few minutes. “All right already, so tell me. What did she say?” Summer demanded.
“Basically that she was writing Seth off for the summer,” Marquez said. “As in she’s discovered the joys of summer vacation flings, so let Sethie play tag with Summer, Lianne will just play with her new toy, J.T.”
“Ouch. Not that you care.”
“Or you, for that matter. I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t care what J.T. does, and you don’t really care about Seth.”
“This is all well-established,” Summer said.
“But I really am done with J.T.,” Marquez said. “Whereas you are already lining up on Seth. Adam isn’t even cold in his grave yet, and you’re scoping Seth. Poor Adam, tossed aside like yesterday’s trash. Good-bye, Mr. Merrick. Hello, Mr. Warner. Out with the charismatic boy billionaire, in with the sincere-yet-sexy carpenter.”
“I told you, it’s not like that,” Summer said lamely. “You really think Seth is sexy?”
“Sure. Plus he’s a nice guy.”
“That’s what I thought about Adam,” Summer said.
“You think Seth is hiding some darker side? No way. Hey, what about that card-reading lady? Didn’t she say one guy was going to be bad news? And wasn’t that Adam? Duh? And isn’t Diver the supposedly mysterious one? That leaves only Seth as the right one.”
“The one who would seem right,” Summer corrected. “Besides, I don’t believe in all that stuff.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t. If I did, maybe I’d have figured out that Adam was trouble,” Summer said.
“That makes no sense. Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“You might want to dig a hole,” Marquez said under her breath. “You know the aforem
entioned charismatic boy billionaire? He’s about fifty feet away and closing in fast.”
“What should I do?” Summer asked. She felt panicky, like she should try to avoid him. Yet that was pretty well impossible, given that they were on a public beach. Besides, it was silly.
“Hmm, too bad he’s a dirtbag,” Marquez said. “The boy does look fine in a bathing suit.”
Summer decided against springing up and running like a scared rabbit. The only thing to do was be cool. She’d spent most of her life trying to be cool. Now would be a nice time to actually succeed.
His shadow fell over her. “Hi, Summer,” he said.
For once Marquez stayed quiet. For once Summer wished she wouldn’t.
“Hi, Adam,” Summer said in her squeaky fake-casual voice.
“Look, I…I kind of figured you might be here. I stopped by the Crab ’n’ Conch and they said you two left right after lunch.”
“Yes,” Summer said. “Yes, we both left. Right after lunch. The two of us.” She was half sitting, shading her eyes with her hand and squinting through one eye. Probably not an attractive look, she realized. Popeye in a two-piece.
“So, um, I was wondering if maybe we could talk,” Adam said. “Maybe walk down the beach.”
“I guess that means I’m not invited,” Marquez said.
“I think we should talk,” Adam said doggedly.
Summer hesitated only a moment. She let him take her hand and help her to her feet. They walked down to the water’s edge, then along the beach, with just the tepid lip of the Gulf cooling her toes.
“So,” he began. “What should we talk about? I wonder.”
Summer couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Not funny, I guess,” he said. He ran his fingers back through his hair and looked past her out over the sparkling green sea. “First of all, I’m really sorry about last night. Everything was going so perfectly, and then it all went down the toilet. Not exactly a great end to our date.”
“Adam, I don’t think that’s really the thing to worry about,” Summer said. They were talking like strangers. Like people who had just met. And she did not want to do this. She had decided to move on. To get past it as quickly as she could.
Beach Blondes Page 21
