Cruel Summer

by Lisa Cardwell

  She looked at me for a minute, as if considering. “Fine, you’re not worth it, anyway. You’ll be more forgotten than this place will be.”

  “Wow, good one.” I rolled my eyes, ready to turn away and head back towards the stage, when I was suddenly jostled and a lot closer to Adriana than I ever wanted to be.

  It seemed to happen in slow motion, the drink in her hand upright one moment then tipping towards me the next. The cold liquid soaked quickly through my thin top, turning the white parts transparent and causing it to stick to my skin, making me chilled with its iciness. How many ice cubes had she put in that thing?

  “Ooh, oopsies.” Adriana laughed. “You shouldn’t bump into people like that, Wyoming.”

  “She didn’t bump into you. You bumped into her.”

  “Sorche!” Adriana sounded shocked and pouted her over-glossed bottom lip. “Please, just because we’re no longer BFFs doesn’t mean we need to turn on each other, does it?” She looked at me. “Besides, she knows it was an accident.”

  Her glare practically dared me to say otherwise.

  But I knew the truth; she’d calculated it right down to the perfect moment to do the most damage. Her goal was apparently my ultimate humiliation, making me look like one of those wet T-shirt contestants on spring break. My only saving grace was the shirt hadn’t been completely white.

  “Yeah, fine, total accident.”

  “Come on.”

  Sorche pulled me through the crowd, me too stunned to do anything but follow. I noticed a few people staring our way, and I hurried to keep up, wondering where it was we were headed. I apparently was going to give the band quite a show of my own at this rate. I didn’t even dare glance down, just kept as close to Sor as possible, using her as a shield to keep me as covered up and out of people’s view as possible.

  Milo looked surprised to see us by the barricade from his spot on stage where they were setting up a couple more instruments. He hurried to the edge and crouched down, looking concerned. “What’s up?”

  Sorche sighed, glancing at me before turning back to Milo. “Some bitch we know and loathe threw her drink on Chey.”

  Milo’s eyes widened as Sor took half a step sideways and he caught sight of my shirt. “Wow, okay…look, come back here…” He jumped down off the stage and headed to where the barricade had a gate in it, pushing it open enough for us to fit through. “You can use our dressing room and try to get that dry. If not, I’ve got a spare shirt in my bag you can wear, Chey.”

  I smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thanks.”

  He nodded.

  Sor navigated the mazelike hallways like a pro, leaving me to wonder how many times she’d been here. The club was small, cozy, intimate, and not the kind of place I’d expect Milo to play—if I’d expected Milo to play loud, brash rock music.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Sorche said as we took over the small dressing room, its walls covered with faded photocopied ads of bands playing there, the dates stretching back over a decade. The newer ones, the colors still somewhat recognizable, hung nearer the door.

  “It’s okay.” Total lie. I smelled like a mix of everything behind the bar. Draft on my right arm and my entire front a mix of Adriana’s drink, which the longer I wore it, the stronger it became.

  Sor glanced at me as we tried to wring out as much as we could onto the paper towels.

  “I’m sorry. We should have stayed at your place,” she grumbled the last part as she patted the silk dry with another set of dry paper towels. The ledge in front of us sat littered with crumpled, wet paper.

  “It’s okay,” I repeated, hoping she’d get the message.

  “Seriously. I wanted to take you out to have fun, not be harassed by Adriana.” She sighed. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  She didn’t look happy as she surveyed the damage to my shirt.

  “I just hope the alcohol will fade away, or I’ll have to trash it.”

  I tossed another wadded-up pile of paper towels on the mess and glanced at our reflections in the mirror.

  I couldn’t look more pitiful if I tried. My mascara and eyeliner was smeared under my eyes, probably no doubt from the impromptu beer shower, my shirt was no longer white, half of it wrinkled beyond measure from us trying to get the drinks out of the fabric.

  It was about as lost of a cause as I was at that moment.

  A knock interrupted our convo, and Sorche went to the door, pulling it open slightly. “Hey.”

  I heard Milo’s low voice but couldn’t hear exactly what was being said. Next thing I knew, Sor had shut the door and had gone over to the assorted bags in the corner and started digging through a large green one. “Here we go.”

  “What?” I asked as she pulled a plastic shopping bag out.

  “Milo asked how you were, and I said the shirt was kinda hopeless. So he said you can use his spare…” She handed me a folded-up black T-shirt. “And put that one in this. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to try and clean up better.”

  Five minutes later, I’d scrubbed my arm and chest as best as I could in the cramped small bathroom. I slid Milo’s band T-shirt over my head, my still-damp one tucked inside a crumpled shopping bag by my foot. Sorche stood guard at the door, almost like she thought Adriana was going to burst inside any moment.

  “We’ll go back to my place first. Get you cleaned up, then we’ll all go grab something to eat.” Sorche looked at me like she was afraid I was ready to break out in tears at any moment.

  “Maybe I should just go home.” It was getting late. It seemed our little Adriana adventure had ruined Sor’s plans of watching Milo play the full set tonight.

  The only plus was it kept my mind off the absent JT, until well, now.

  Sorche shook her head. “Please, I feel craptastic enough right now.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t have my best friend feeling like that. “Are you sure we won’t run into your mom?”

  The last thing I wanted was Dad to get a report of my newfound ‘scent.’

  “Please. She’s at some charity gig. Won’t be home before two a.m. We’re safe for a while.”

  I gathered my stuff. “Where did you want to go?”

  “I don’t know. We can just grab something to eat from somewhere…” She shrugged. “My treat.”

  “Sor—”

  “Seriously. Gotta salvage the night somehow.”

  She gave me a weary look, and we headed out to the wings to watch the end of Milo’s second set. I had to admit the guys were pretty good, and I was happy to be out of the range of anyone’s plastic cup.

  Once they were done with their encore, they practically raced off the stage, getting their gear together in what I figured had to be record time. I could only hope that was their ritual and not something because of me.

  By the time the band had most of their equipment loaded up into a van, I was sitting in the backseat of Milo’s car, his guitar case leaning on the seat beside me. I dropped my plastic bag and purse by my feet as Sorche piled in next to him up front.

  “So are you sure you guys want to get something to eat?” I asked, thinking again home was probably my best bet. “I kinda have to have a somewhat early night.”

  “Don’t worry, your head will be on your pillow before dawn.” Milo put the key in the ignition.

  “I need it there before ‘before dawn’, thank you very much.”

  Sorche turned to me and laughed. “Relax.”

  “She’s right, Chey. We’re just gonna go grab something to eat. You’ll be home before one. I guarantee a good eight hours of sleep.”

  I didn’t feel like telling him I’d already set my alarm clock for seven in the morning. I’d probably have to adjust it when I got home.

  I was nursing a crushed heart thanks to JT, the remnants of my soaked shirt—unfortunately, it was one of my favorites I’d picked from my last trek to Rico’s—and the fact that Adriana was causing me trouble. Pl
us there was that hint of nerves over the fact it was quickly approaching well past midnight. Maybe the best thing was to talk them into dropping me off at home.

  “I thought your little boyfriend was going to show tonight,” Milo commented as we headed down Sunset.

  I kicked the bag with my foot. “He didn’t make it. Didn’t give a reason, either.”

  Sorche shook her head at his question. “Maybe he got lost, or his cell phone died. He could have missed all your messages.”

  “Right.” All logical explanations. But I didn’t want to believe them. He knew my cell; he could have called me from anywhere.

  “Oh, well…it’s no big deal, right?”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  After a pizza at some restaurant I’d never heard of, Milo was pulling through the familiar gates of home.

  “See, home early,” Sorche announced as she got out of Milo’s car, leaving the door open behind her.

  I grabbed my bag with the probably ruined shirt in it as I stepped out. I doubted anything was going to get rid of the stench of alcohol. I couldn’t even ask Trish what to do about it, not wanting to risk this getting back to Dad or Mom. Maybe I’d let it soak in the sink overnight and pray for some sort of miracle.

  “Thanks Milo.” I leaned in and waved at him.

  “No problem.” He gave me a rare smile, and I slammed the back door.

  Sorche smiled at me as we walked to the front door. “All right, so have fun tomorrow, and if you get nervous, text me. I’ll make sure I’ve got my phone handy all day.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sorry tonight sorta went downhill for a while.”

  For a while.

  Yeah.

  I pulled my keys out of my bag. “Not your fault. Thanks for taking me out. I’d probably be a nervous wreck right now, otherwise.”

  “Good.” She gave me a quick hug. “Sleep well, ‘it girl’.”

  I laughed as I unlocked the door, and she skipped back to Milo’s car.

  “Don’t stay out too late,” I called after her.

  “Yes, Mom.” She waved one last time before she slid into the open passenger side.

  I leaned against the door after I heard Milo’s car pull away. The night hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped, and I pulled my cell phone out one more time, looking at the ‘no new messages’ staring up at me.

  Great, just great. I thought I already had one guy in my life I couldn’t count on. Now, it was starting to look like I had two.

  16

  “First shoot this morning, huh?” Trish asked as I stepped out onto the patio to find her and Dad already having breakfast at the outside table.

  I took a seat while Dad fixed me a cup of coffee just the way I liked it and set it in front of me.

  “Yeah.”

  I had two hours in which to fully wake up and lose the slight fog I was still moving around in. I should have been a good little model-wannabe and headed to bed before the sunset, thus guaranteeing Rico wouldn’t take one look at me and hit speed dial for Adriana to come take my place. But my nerves hadn’t let me fall asleep ’til well after two—all right, to be fully honest, a lot closer to three-thirty, which gave way to nightmares of the Adriana variety.

  “You’re here early,” I said, watching Trish slather a piece of toast with raspberry jam.

  “Wanted to be here for moral support,” she said with an easy smile.

  “You want anything?” Dad asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think my nerves can handle anything more than coffee.”

  He patted my hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. You’re a natural.”

  I just hoped I wasn’t a natural disaster. Did this man ever see my school pictures? I hadn’t taken a good one since second grade. Oh, well, at least with Rico’s photographer, I was sure there would be more than two shots to choose from, unlike the school ones where you were forced to pick between ‘horrible’ and ‘what planet did I beam down from?’

  “Just relax and have fun,” Dad continued, oblivious to my mini meltdown. “That’ll come through the camera and from talking to Rico. That’s what he’s looking for from this new line and from you.”

  Great pep talk, coach, I felt like saying, but swallowed the urge with a large gulp of coffee.

  “I guess I should finish getting ready. I still need to grab a shower before I head out of here.”

  Dad surprised me by standing and giving me a bear hug that reminded me of the one I’d gotten the day he’d picked me up at airport. “Good luck, Chey.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You know I’m proud of you, right?” he asked as he pulled back.

  I did now. But I put a small smile on my face. “Of course.”

  I heard Trish clearing her throat and turned to see her holding out a small narrow black jewelry box, a silver bow on top of it. “Can’t let you leave without opening this.”

  “What is it?”

  “A little good luck present,” she replied. “Open it. I don’t want to hold you up on your big day.”

  I sat back down and took the box from her, carefully opening the top. Inside lay a gold charm bracelet.

  “Oh, wow…” I lifted it up, and the charms dangled. A palm tree. A camera. A small diamond star. “Thank you!”

  “Told you she’d like it,” Dad said, nudging Trish.

  I looked at the two of them. “Is it from both of you?”

  “Sorta. It was Trish’s idea to get you something, and we both picked out the charms,” Dad explained as he took the bracelet from me and slipped it on my wrist, closing the clasp easily.

  “I love it.” I played with the star absently. “But I gotta go.”

  I gave them each a hurried hug before I tore off upstairs to get ready. I wanted to get there as early as possible and hopefully miss any traffic problems. I’d had enough bad luck last night; I didn’t want any carrying over into today.

  ***

  By the time I got to Rico’s, the place was as busy as I’d ever seen it. Stepping inside to no one sitting behind the desk, I could see Lorna talking away to a couple people in the conference room. Further back, Rico and his assistant were going through the racks. People I’d never seen before rushed around, and the back door to the building lay propped open, letting in a warm breeze that ruffled my hair, even clear across the vast room.

  “’Morning,” I called, not sure what I should do or who I should go to.

  “Chey! Don’t just stand there. Come here,” Rico called excitedly as he motioned me over.

  “Just give me a sec to finish my coffee.” I took a long last sip, hoping for the java to awaken my senses more than they already were.

  Not to mention, I didn’t want to risk knocking the coffee all over Rico’s expensive clothes with a sudden bout of nerves-induced clumsiness. Pretty sure stained wasn’t the look he was going for.

  I trashed the cup in the wastebasket as I passed and weaved through the long tables to where Rico stood pulling out various pieces of clothing and laying them out on the tabletops. I stuck my hands in the back pockets of my denim cutoffs and tried to look casual like I wasn’t suddenly completely out-of-my-mind nervous.

  I was suddenly thankful I wasn’t a nail biter. I wouldn’t have had any left by that point.

  Rico glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a teasing smile lifting the edges of his mouth. “Coffee may not have been the wisest choice.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think it just revved your nerves.” He laughed easily, his dark eyes twinkling. “Relax, Chey. This shoot is going to go smoothly, and we’ll have fun, I promise. Take a look…” He waved towards the clothes covering the different tables. “See if you like what I’ve chosen.”

  I moved from table to table, stunned at how talented Rico was. There were T-shirts like the ones I had sitting in my closet paired with jeans, dressier shirts, button downs paired with tank tops, and the dresses were amazing.

  Two sundresses, one a metallic copper
that I was already in love with. The other looked a lot like the one I’d worn in the fashion show.

  Rico’s assistant, Todd, brushed by, and I turned in time to see Rico nod at whatever Todd was saying. “All right, Chey, it’s time to get started. You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I lied. Now that he’d said that, my nervous butterflies were making their appearance full force.