by Allie Gail
His soft laugh warms me all over. “Yes. It. Was.”
“And you said I had a dirty mind.”
“It wasn’t a complaint, by any means. I love your dirty mind.”
“It’s your fault.”
“What is?”
“That I have a dirty mind. I was a sweet, chaste little saint before you came along and corrupted me.”
“Ri-i-ight. That’s why I found you sprawled out naked on the couch.”
“I had a sunburn!”
“You didn’t look sunburned to me, sweetie.”
“You probably weren’t looking in the right places.”
“You’re right. I probably wasn’t.”
“I still can’t believe you just let yourself in the way you did.”
“I can’t believe you have trouble believing that. You’ve met me, right?”
“How long were you standing there before I woke up?”
“Long enough to get a good look.”
“What would you have done if I’d started screaming?”
“I would have apologized profusely and left in one hell of a hurry. Guess it’s a good thing for me you don’t spook easily.”
“I might have freaked out if I hadn’t seen your picture in the bedroom. I knew you were Leah’s brother.”
“But you didn’t know my name.”
“No. And I never would have recognized you. You look a lot different than you used to.”
“I recognized you right away. Which is why I couldn’t believe you weren’t trying to throw something at my head.”
“Well, what can I say. I was sexually frustrated. And you, standing there – you were seriously hot.”
“You think I’m hot?”
“No, you turn me on because you’re butt ass ugly. Yes, you’re hot! You also have a sexy voice. Did you know that?”
“Do I? Well, you know, this isn’t my real voice. Usually I sound like Gilbert Gottfried.”
“No offense, but if you start talking like that I’m hanging up.”
“Wha-aat? You don’t like this voice bettah?”
The imitation is so spot on, I find it hard to stop laughing. “Oh, my poor ears! They’ve been violated. Don’t ever do that again. I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
“How about Fran Drescher? I can do her too.”
“For the love of all that is sacred, don’t. Please don’t.” The motion-sensor light flickers to life on the porch, and I roll lazily off the couch to go peek out the windows. Probably just a dog running across the lawn.
“All right then. Shaggy from Scooby Doo?”
“Leah!” I blurt her name in surprise as I watch her bouncing out of the bright yellow VW convertible she drives.
“Leah? You want me to imitate my sister?”
“No, she’s…here!” Holding the phone in place with my shoulder, I snatch my robe closed and hastily tie it. “She just pulled up.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. It figures. What is Motor-Mouth doing there?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me she was coming.”
“You wanna just call me back later?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll talk to you after she leaves, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.” Unlocking the front door, I pull it open to find Leah skipping up the steps, a huge grin on her face as she waves enthusiastic jazz-hands. I also notice that she’s got an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
“Hey there, Mellybean! I woulda called but I wanted to surprise you. Sur-priiise! Slumber party time! Oh my gosh, your cheeks look flushed – are you feeling okay? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
~ Chapter Twenty-Six ~
What do you know...Melanie looks completely flabbergasted to see me. Ha! Well, that’s perfectly fine because surprising her was my intention, after all. My plan is to pick her brain and showing up on her doorstep this way, she can’t put me off or give me some half-assed excuse about being too busy or something. Not if I’m right here underfoot. Nope, like it or not, for tonight she is stuck with me. And my nickname isn’t The Interrogator for nothing.
Okay, so maybe nobody’s ever actually called me that. But they should.
I drop my bag on the floor and plant both hands on my hips with a grin. “Wow. It’s like, six-thirty on a Friday night and you’re already dressed for beddy-bye. I’m guessing nobody ever accused you of being a party animal. Hey, you’re not sick or anything, are you? Here, let me feel your forehead.”
She takes a step back and shakes her head. “I feel fine. It’s just…a little warm in here. Don’t you think?”
I see that she’s got her cell phone clenched in one hand, which tells me she was probably just talking to my dippy brother. Who, let’s face it, has never been in a halfway serious relationship as far as I know and wouldn’t know how to pursue one if he had a detailed instruction manual. With pictures. And diagrams. And color-coded pie charts.
Then again, judging by the massive flower arrangement on the table, he may be on the right track. Assuming those are from him, and I am. Assuming, that is.
“Uh. No. You got PMS or something? It feels like sixty degrees in here.”
“I took a hot bath,” she announces, as if she just now suddenly remembered that. “So…ahem…what made you decide to drive out here tonight?”
“I was bored. Thought maybe we could hang out and do something fun. Wanna hit The Swamp Club?”
From the look she gives me, you’d have thought I just suggested we go out and get matching Elmo tattoos inked on our asses.
“To be perfectly honest, Leah, I’m a little tired. I spent all day cleaning the house and working on my book. You wouldn’t be mad at me if I asked for a rain check, would you?”
“No, that’s cool. We can just stay in. No biggie.” Jogging into the kitchen, I scramble up on the countertop and start rooting through one of the higher cabinets.
From behind me, I hear footsteps and then, “You’re gonna fall and bust your ass. And when you do I will be laughing. What are you looking for?”
“I know I left a bottle of tequila up here somewhere, if Butthead and his friends didn’t get their grubby little paws on it. Oh, wait…wait…what’s this? Shabam! Found it, bitches!” I pull the bottle out of the cabinet and wave it back and forth triumphantly.
“Tequila. Uh-huh.” She gives me a dubious look as I pass it down to her and slide off the counter. “Do I even want to know?”
“If you don’t want to go out for a drink, then we’ll just have to improvise. Whatcha got in here we can use?” Opening the fridge, I spot an unopened carton of orange juice and let out a whoop. “Yes! All right! Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any grenadine, would you?”
“What do I look like, a bartender?”
“Just thought I’d ask. I could make us a Tequila Sunrise.” I plop the carton down on the counter and grab a couple of glasses. “How long has your power been back on? I was afraid I might get here and find you still in the dark.”
“It’s been back on for days. Actually they had it back up the same day the storm moved out.” She leans across the counter and watches me pour the juice. “Was there any damage at your parents’ house?”
“Just one tree down. But you know, that same tree got struck by lightning a couple of months ago so I dunno, that might’ve weakened it already or something. I don’t think that storm was nearly as bad as everyone anticipated. Although I did see a few trees down on the way here.”
“It sounded bad, I’ll tell you that.”
“I know! I nearly had a heart attack when that stupid tree fell. The whole house shook. We got lucky because it took that westward turn and then weakened pretty fast, so all we really felt was the outer bands of it. That was enough. I can only imagine what it was like here. I can’t believe you didn’t haul ass – I thought for sure you’d go stay with your sister. Were you freaked out?”
“Nah. Shane said this house has survived a lot worse wit
hout any damage so I wasn’t too worried.”
Aha – the perfect opening. I had no intention of questioning her about my brother until she brought him up because I didn’t want her to think I was pressing her for information. But now the topic is fair game. “I can’t believe all this time you knew him. That’s crazy. Did you know he was coming or were you like, surprised to see him?”
“Oh, it was definitely a surprise.” Her mouth curves into this funny little half-smile that speaks volumes.
“Well, I’m glad you weren’t here all by yourself. I woulda felt so bad. I didn’t get up with you before because I just assumed you’d evacuate, and then when Daddy reminded me about the storm shutters I texted you on the off chance you were still here. I really didn’t expect you to be.”
“Don’t feel bad. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, I probably would have wound up leaving.”
“So he didn’t get on your nerves while he was here or anything?” I casually ask, handing her one of the drinks I’ve mixed.
“No. Not at all.” Turning up her glass, she takes a couple of gulps before making a face. “Whew! Ugh. I think you put in too much tequila.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. Trust me, this stuff’ll put the curl back in your hair.” I taste mine and have to concede, at least to myself, that she’s right. It’s definitely a little on the strong side. “Not trying to be all up in your business here or anything, but you never told me – what’s the deal with you two? And don’t give me any crap about you being just friends. I am so not buying that.”
“Why not? Is that so hard to believe?”
“Okay then. Are you just friends?”
She chews on her lip for a minute, eying me thoughtfully before taking another sip of her drink. When she replies, it’s just to change the subject.
“Want to take a walk down to the beach? I haven’t been since the storm. I keep meaning to go but I have a habit of losing track of time when I’m working.”
“I thought you were tired,” I remind her with a smirk.
“Too tired to go dancing, yes. But I’m always up for the beach. It’s relaxing.”
I give her a complacent shrug. “Relaxing. Yeah, sure, why not? Relaxing works for me.”
“Great. Let me just go put on some clothes. Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready.”
“Aren’t you planning on finishing that drink?”
She rolls her eyes, and I stare in amazement as she drains the entire glass without even stopping for a breath. All I meant was that we should maybe pour them into some plastic cups to take with us, not that she should guzzle the whole thing at once.
“There. Happy?” She promptly hiccups, and I snort a giggle through my fingers.
“That’s not really what I had in mind, but hey, whatever floats your boat.”
“My eyeballs are what’s floating. I gotta pee. Be back in a – hic – minute.”
“Take your time, chickie boo.”
I manage to polish off my own drink before Melanie returns a few minutes later. She’s changed into frayed blue jean shorts, a yellow hoodie and pink Converse sneakers, hair twisted messily into a butterfly clip. Face devoid of any makeup whatsoever. And you know what’s funny? Even if she’d gone to The Swamp Club looking like that, she’d still have no trouble getting oodles of attention.
What I’ve come to realize about Melanie, though, is that attention is the last thing she’s interested in.
That’s one thing about her that’s always baffled me. The way she always seems to go out of her way to blend into the background. Like she’s trying to be invisible or something. I’ve never understood it. She’s got a beautiful face and a smoking body. Why hide it? Even when you Google her author name, all you get is a few bland, stodgy profile pictures that barely even resemble her.
I once offered to give her a makeover and take a new picture for her to post, but she just laughed it off.
I guess she notices me assessing her, because she quickly looks down at her hoodie in alarm. “What? Is there a bug on me?”
“No. You’re fine. Why would you think there’s a bug on you?”
“Because. There was a freaking palmetto bug the size of a Buick skittering across the patio last night. Now I’m paranoid about one of those things getting in through the patio doors and crawling on me while I sleep.”
Laughing, I follow her out the front door and down the steps toward the sidewalk. “You’re so weird.”
“You didn’t see this thing! He had to be on steroids. I’m not kidding. It was gross.”
“Yeah, those things can get pretty big. They don’t usually get in the house though.”
“I keep waiting for him to ring the doorbell and yell candygram!”
“If he starts ringing the doorbell, you have my permission to call an exterminator. Or an exorcist. Hi, Mr. Sutton!” We both wave to the elderly man sitting on his front porch swing.
“Evenin’, girls.” The chains squeak as he rocks slowly back and forth.
I breathe in the fresh, salty air and release a sigh of contentment. It’s such a beautiful night. The sky is clear, the moon full and bright. Rows of streetlights illuminate the sidewalks with a friendly glow, attracting swarms of fluttering moths. Long shadows of tree branches dance across the sidewalks as they sway in the warm breeze.
“How’s the new book coming along?” I ask.
“Not bad. I’m pretty much on schedule, which for me is good. I’m the world’s worst procrastinator.” Sliding her hands into the pocket of her hoodie, she kicks a rock off the sidewalk and back into someone’s flower bed. “I have a book signing scheduled for Monday. I’m looking forward to it but on the other hand I’m kind of dreading it.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well…I like meeting and talking to the people who enjoy my books. That part I’m looking forward to. But then I get really nervous too. I’m always afraid I’m going to have a panic attack and make a fool of myself in front of everyone.”
I know about Melanie’s anxiety attacks. She clued me in after I found her in the bathroom at work one day, splashing cold water on her face. She was pale as a ghost and shaking all over. I felt so bad for her. I wonder what causes a person’s body to react like that?
“Have you ever had a panic attack at one of these events before?” I ask.
“Nothing too bad. I mean, nothing I couldn’t control.”
“Then I’d say you’re worrying for nothing. If it was going to happen, it already would have. Just try telling yourself that.”
“Well…yeah, that’s true. And I don’t have them nearly as often as I used to.”
“See? You have nothing to worry about. What time’s your book signing? I’ll try and come. Is it here?”
“No, it’s in Atlanta. At Barnes and Noble.”
“All the way in Atlanta? Jeez. Guess I won’t be coming after all. I have to work Monday.” It’s funny – most people complain about Monday because it’s the start of a brand new work week. I, on the other hand, love Mondays. Of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that I get to see Brad. I’m thinking of biting the bullet and asking him out. If I wait for him to make the first move, our first date is liable to be bingo at the senior center.
“You don’t even like murder mysteries,” she reminds me with a smile.
“I could still be there for moral support!”
“I appreciate that. It’s too far for you to drive just for that, though.”
“Atlanta, hm?” This gives me an idea. “Since you’re already going that far north, it might be worthwhile to make a little side trip. Like to Tennessee maybe? I hear there are lots of fun, touristy things to do there.”
Her eyes cut sideways, telling me with one look that she’s got my number. “Like your brother?”
“Well, I’ve never thought of him as touristy before, but you could get him a pair of plaid Bermuda shorts and one of those big ol’ cameras if that’s what revs your engine.” I grin innocently.
/> “You are an evil little snot. Are you sure you two aren’t biologically related? Because you’re so much alike it’s scary.”
“Hey, don’t lump me in the same gene pool with that!” We’ve reached the public access entrance, and our feet clomp along the wooden planks of the walkway leading down to the beach. “Actually, I shouldn’t say that. His mom is one of the sweetest ladies in the world. I couldn’t have handpicked a better stepmother than Louise. And she makes my dad happy, so…”
“How come you’re always bitching about Shane and calling him names? Is he really that bad?” She gives me a curious look, and I notice in the moonlight that her eyes are slightly glassy from the tequila. Good – maybe it’ll loosen her tongue.
“No, of course not,” I admit. “I just like giving him a hard time. See, I was an only child when I was little, so it’s just fun for me now that I have someone to pick on. But all kidding aside, being totally serious here, Shane is a good person with a heart of gold. And I’m not just saying that to try and get you guys together. He’s done a lot for me. Way more than I deserve.”
We slow down to look around as we step off the boardwalk into the sand. It doesn’t look all that different, except that the sugar-white shoreline is now littered with ocean debris. Mostly just stringy brown seaweed and broken bits of shells. In the distance I can make out the hulking outline of a bulldozer parked on the roadside, left behind by the beach cleanup crew.
In front of us, the full moon reflects off the dark water in a rippling path of glowing white.
When I was a little girl, I used to believe that if I followed that pathway over the sea, at the end I would find where the mermaids lived.
“Come on.” Melanie shuffles her way through the deep sand toward a row of wooden rental chairs, and I plod along after her. We pick out two chairs and make ourselves comfortable. No one is here to solicit them after dark, so at night they’re up for grabs.
Pulling my knees up to my chin, I wrap my arms around them and wait to see if she picks up the conversation or changes the subject again.
“Are you talking about him buying the house here? Is that what you meant when you said he’s done a lot for you?”
