“Good luck,” the girl said, taking the sketch back.
“Mom?” I called, with a knock on the partially open door. The rest of the talk inside quieted.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I need you a sec. Non-emergency, though. If you’re too busy, no worries—”
The door swung open. A beautiful young woman stood there, long straight blond hair flowing down over her shoulders. Perfect pale skin. “You must be Jane,” she said with a smile. “I’m Jenny Nolan.”
Her recognition surprised me. My mother didn’t usually talk about me to clients unless someone brought me up first. There was something familiar about this woman, too, but I couldn’t tell what. And the name rang a bell. “Hi. You must be the bride. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
I glanced past her, seeing my mother in conversation with another of the bridesmaids. “Has my mother been talking about me?”
“No, don’t worry. She hasn’t been gossiping.” Jenny cocked her head, her eyes assessing me. “It was my aunt who told me about you.”
“Your aunt?” I racked my brain, trying to come up with a Nolan that I knew in this town. Then I remembered Billy Nolan, Handel’s uncle who died. I wondered if Billy Nolan was her father or an uncle. That explained the familiarity in her features. “Your aunt is Handel’s mother. Handel Davies?”
She laughed. “Yes. Is there any other Handel around here?”
I smiled, loving the idea that I was so important to Handel that his cousin I’ve never met had been discussing me with his mother. “I guess not.”
She looked me up and down, unabashed. “Well, you’re just adorable,” she said. “Word gets around in our family about who the baby brother’s been seen with around town, so of course you’ve come up in conversation. My aunt likes the idea of Handel going out with someone like you. Handel’s a good guy, deep down. He just needs someone to redeem him from those brothers of his. Maybe you’ll be the one to save him.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. I wasn’t sure what to say in response to all this information, especially the part about my potential role in Handel’s future. My mother’s conversation with the bridesmaid halted during Jenny’s speech. She was looking at me now, a curious expression on her face. I still hadn’t responded when Jenny spoke again.
“You should give Handel another chance,” she said.
I looked at her quizzically. “Another chance at what?”
“You know, go out with him. First dates don’t always go that well, but sometimes second dates are the charm,” she sang. Her bridesmaids responded to this with knowing laughter. “After all, that’s how I ended up with Charlie,” she went on, who I assumed was the groom. “If I’d given up on him after the first night we went out, there’s no way we’d be walking down the aisle together this August.”
“Right,” I said, my face growing hot.
“I’m glad to finally meet you. You needed your mother, right? Let me get out of your way.” Jenny Nolan stepped aside, and I saw that there were three other faces checking me out. The bridesmaids were apparently also interested in seeing the girl who was going out with Handel Davies. Or at least had gone out with him once as far as they knew.
It made me wonder how they’d look at me if they knew I’d seen Handel more than once—three times in fact. How when I went to bed at night all I could do was think about kissing him, dream about the press of his mouth on my neck, his fingers on my skin. That sometimes I thought maybe Handel would be the one to save me, and not the other way around.
“Jane,” my mother said. “You had a question?”
I suddenly wanted out from under all this scrutiny. “Um, actually, I’m fine. You’re busy. I can take care of it myself.”
With that, I closed the door and hurried through the living room, the girl with the red curly hair watching me differently now. She must have heard Jenny Nolan’s comments.
Suddenly, I felt special. In a way that I liked.
• • •
Sometimes, I can be a really good pretender.
Like when I arrived at the Ocean Club in a tight black tank minidress that shimmered with glitter, wearing black heels on my feet, as though this was how I usually dressed to go out, as though the clothes I had on were designer as opposed to discount, as though I was born to date rich boys like Miles and not townie boys like Handel Davies. The stones in the bracelet around my wrist were fake, of course, and I wondered how many people in this place looked at me and knew this instinctively, knew that, despite my attempts to fit in, I didn’t really belong. That not one of us did. But my girls and I were all going to act like we did for the night. Act like we did for the boys.
Sometimes that’s just what girls do.
“Don’t you look hot,” Bridget said when she saw me. She was waiting at the entrance, with all its stonework and glass.
I smiled, twirling the loop of the tiny black bag I had around my finger. “You too, B.” Bridget was always gorgeous, but when she dressed up, she was stunning. There was something about all that fair skin that made her seem lit up from the inside. It gave her a vulnerability, too, that made the boys want to protect her.
Bridget’s eyes went to my neck. “Pretty,” she said. “It’s good to see you wearing that.”
I nodded. Fingered the tiny mosaic heart that lay against my skin, all shades of ocean and sky. Bridget knew what it meant—knew what it meant that I’d worn it, too. Tonight, when I was getting ready, I’d decided it was time to begin some things again, to try starting over bit by bit, remaking myself, now that so much in my life was just at the beginning. Now that Handel and I were at the beginning. The necklace my mother had given me to replace the one that I’d lost seemed a simple place to start. So I took it from the drawer where I’d hidden it and clasped it at the back of my neck.
I let the heart go. “Where are the others?” I asked.
“Michaela went to the ladies’ . . . ,” Bridget said.
“And Tammy just got here,” said Tammy from behind us. She glanced around, staring at the large floral arrangement on a nearby table, brimming with white calla lilies. Tammy gave each of us a quick hug, and Michaela, too, when she returned from the bathroom.
“We’re not at Slovenska’s anymore,” Michaela trilled.
“Yeah. Or Twin Willows,” Tammy said.
We stood there awkwardly. “This is weird, isn’t it?” I asked.
Bridget giggled. “This is fun. I like getting dressed up.”
Michaela made it a point to look at each of us. “I think we dress up nice.”
“Well, obviously,” Tammy said. “And apparently, when we dress up, we all agree to wear black.”
This got another nervous laugh from everyone.
I eyed Tammy. “Does Seamus know you’re here tonight?”
“Why would Seamus care?” she shot back. “And, yes, he does happen to know. I saw him before coming here.”
“Really!” Bridget was about to push Tammy for more information, but Tammy shot her down with a glare. “Fine,” she harrumphed. “I’ll ask later.”
“So, what’s next, J?” Michaela asked.
“I suppose we should see if they’re outside on the deck,” I said.
“Ooh, fancy,” Bridget said, immediately turning to go. She headed through the restaurant with the kind of confidence I was lacking at the moment, so I felt grateful she’d taken the lead. The three of us followed after her.
The restaurant was filling up for the evening, alive with people chatting and eating, seeing and being seen. The Ocean Club was one of those places that wanted to seem no-frills and casual, a place where you could go following a long day in the sun at the beach, your bathing suit peeking out of your cover-up and your flip-flops still donning your sandy feet. In reality, it was anything but. Its patrons, especially the women, put on their evening bes
t and were dressed to compete with one another for most glamorous, most elegant, most sexy, like they were there to steal each other’s spouses and boyfriends and even one another’s friends. Cutlery clinked daintily against china, and finely manicured nails flared out from hands holding crystal wine glasses. Hair was done up and perfect, everyone posturing for one another.
The four of us might not be regulars, but we filed through that room like we deserved the admiration of everyone in the place. More than one woman glared as we passed, and I’d like to think those stares were more about how we were stealing some of that coveted male attention and not related to the cheap fabric of our clothes. We went out onto the deck and made our way through the crowd. There were twinkle lights strung up in the trees and delicate lanterns hanging from their branches. The effect was beautiful. “Hey there!” someone called out.
We turned toward the voice, and Miles caught my eye. He was standing near the railing of the deck and waved us over, dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, the typical prep school–boy uniform. He looked casual, but somehow he still had money written all over him. Maybe it was his good looks, maybe it was his confidence, or even his charm, but whatever it was, I almost wanted to turn back the way we came. Who were we kidding, imagining that the four of us could—or even would want to—hang out with guys like Miles? His friends were with him, the two we’d already seen at the beach and a new one, all of them wearing more or less the same outfit.
I took a deep breath and gave Miles a nod. Now it was my turn to be the leader. “This way, girls,” I said with a reluctant shrug. We wove our way through the hands holding fine glasses, brimming with wine or cocktails. Miles and his friends were drinking beers so casually they didn’t seem to realize they were underage. The four of us were unprepared in this regard. It wasn’t like we needed fake IDs in the downtown bars, and mainly people hung out and drank on the beach or at people’s houses.
“Hey,” I said when we reached them, wondering what came next—a hug? A kiss on the cheek like we lived in Europe? A handshake? These options seemed awkward, so I stood far enough away from Miles that only words could comfortably be exchanged.
Miles grinned. “You made it.”
“Obviously.” I tried to return the smile. Tammy cleared her throat, and I remembered to introduce my friends. “This is Tammy, this is Michaela, and you remember Bridget,” I said, gesturing at each of them. Only Bridget’s little smile and wave was genuine, and Miles’s friends’ eyes were glued to her now. I was sure they thought she was adorable because, well, she really was.
“And you are?” he asked me.
I laughed as I realized I still hadn’t told him my name. “Jane. Now it’s your turn,” I said to Miles, nodding in the direction of his friends.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jane,” he said wryly. “You remember Logan and Hugh,” he said, pointing to the two boys who’d been with him during that first conversation on the beach. The friends each had that jock look and the bodies to match, muscled arms peeking out of their finely made, finely cut shirts.
“Not really,” Tammy said. Then I elbowed her and Bridget elbowed her at the same time, and she flinched. “Oh yes. Of course I remember. Now it’s all coming back to me.”
Sometimes Tammy’s dry attitude rolled up into all that natural suspicion was hilarious. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing.
Miles obviously wasn’t taking Tammy’s sarcasm personally. He just kept on grinning, his dark eyes dancing as he finished the introductions. “And this is James,” he said about the fourth boy, with reddish-blond hair and the faintest of freckles dotting his skin. If he wasn’t dressed in such expensive clothing and hanging out with the other three, he could pass for an Irish townie. “What would you girls like to drink?” Miles asked.
I bit my lip, then just said it. “None of us have fake IDs.”
All four boys’ eyebrows went up in surprise, like they might have practiced the reaction. “How is that possible?” asked the one named Logan.
Michaela rolled her eyes. “We don’t usually hang out at bars like this.” Her tone implied that this should already be evident and that, in fact, we were above such places.
This wasn’t going well.
“What do you do, then?” asked Hugh, shifting so he could rest a hand on the railing behind him, his muscles rippling under all that dark skin as he leaned.
Bridget chimed in, trying to save the night from getting off to a bad start. “We hang out at people’s houses and go down to the beach a lot. It’s hard to pass up the allure, you know? Even for a place as nice as this one.”
“Don’t worry.” Miles held up his hand to flag down a waitress. “We all have connections.”
“Connections?” went Tammy, the eye roll implied but not acted on this time, thankfully.
“I’ll just have a Coke,” I said quickly, before Tammy could snort or say anything else sarcastic. I didn’t want a beer or one of those fancy drinks that made you sloppy by the time you reached the bottom of the glass. I would start slow and decide from there.
“Tammy and I will have Cokes, too,” Michaela said, after it was clear Tammy wasn’t going to speak up for herself.
Bridget batted her eyelashes. “If one of you boys can get me one of those pretty drinks, I would certainly be grateful.”
All four boys looked at one another, engaged in unspoken competition for helping fulfill this one willing damsel’s request. Bridget was going to be a hit this evening. This made me smile. Bridget reveled in boy attention no matter who they were, and she was too sweet to begrudge her the vice.
Cokes were gotten for Tammy, Michaela, and me, and Bridget was handed a tall martini glass filled with a faintly pink liquid and very little ice. She exclaimed, “Ooh!” in surprise after taking the first sip. I was relieved it didn’t take long for all of us to fall into something like normal conversation, Tammy talking to James, Michaela and Bridget with Logan and Hugh, and me with Miles. Somehow, he seemed to have laid claim to me. His friends had barely even looked my way.
“Is this where you guys usually hang out?” I asked him.
“You mean when I’m not slumming it at the town beach or Slovenska’s?”
“Tammy can be tough sometimes,” I said.
“So can you,” Miles said.
I swirled the ice around my glass with the dainty straw. “Not really.”
“Just because I don’t live in town year-round doesn’t make me a bad guy.”
“Maybe not.” I looked around the deck, taking in the people laughing and drinking and flirting, the sheer gorgeousness of a bar when it’s built on money and elegant patrons. I saw the delight in Bridget’s eyes, how she was so excited to be here, and how even Tammy and Michaela seemed to be enjoying themselves now, despite all attempts to resist the possibility. “I used to dream of hanging out somewhere like the Ocean Club,” I admitted, surprised by my own honesty.
“Dream?” Miles said with a laugh. “Wow. The Ocean Club is open to the public, you know.”
“Maybe for someone like you. But people like us”—I nodded at the girls—“we don’t think to come here on a Friday.”
“But here you are,” Miles said, a bit triumphantly, like he was glad to have given us the opportunity.
I turned toward the water. Rested my glass on the rail of the deck. There were sailboats out on the ocean, floating leisurely in the harbor, and a couple of yachts. “Part of the dream involved being here with a bunch of boys like you and your friends.”
Miles shifted to let two girls in stilettos pass. They were draped in jewelry, the real kind, and were giggling nonstop. “Is that a joke?” he asked. “I never know whether you’re being sarcastic or serious.”
I shook my head. Took a sip of my Coke, the bubbles in my throat fizzy like the atmosphere around us. Maybe I should’ve asked for a beer. “No, that part is true.”
“I don’t know . . . ,” I began slowly.
“Ouch,” Miles interrupted.
“Calm down. I wasn’t finished.”
He leaned against the rail, eyeing me. It was the first time I’d seen his confidence falter. “Sorry,” he said. “Finish away.”
“Now that I’m here,” I went on. “I’m not sure this place is really me. Or any of us. Well, maybe except for Bridget.”
Miles turned and watched her laugh at something his friend said. “She seems to be having a good time.”
I took another sip of my Coke, watching Miles from above the rim of the glass. “Bridget can have a good time anywhere.”
Miles seemed to relax again. As people drained their drinks, the crowd around us was getting louder. Miles bent toward me so I could hear him. “So what else can you tell me about yourself, other than that your name is Jane?”
“Well . . .” I bit my lip, trying to decide what to say. It was such a date-like question, but then, I’d agreed to go out in a date-like situation. “You might think this whole town is all Irish, but there are a lot of Russians around here, and Italians, too. I’m of the Italian variety.”
Miles grinned. “I love Italian.”
I smiled a little, and tried to hide it behind my glass. “Are you always this cheesy?”
“Only when I’m with a girl who I like.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God.” But I laughed, too, for the first time tonight. Underneath all that confidence, there was an earnestness to Miles. He might come from a different background, but he was turning out not to be so bad after all. And cute. Definitely cute. And yes, winning. His charm was starting to work on me.
Miles flagged down the waitress and ordered another beer. Then, “I want to know more,” he said.
The Tenderness of Thieves Page 14
