Rebound With Me

by Kayley Loring

  I almost burst into tears, because, damn, we do look good together. He texts me the pictures, and I try to ignore the sinking feeling that those will one day be the only evidence of our summer together. I shake it off, and let him lead me down to the beach, where there are slightly fewer people, for some reason.

  “Why would anyone want to sit around a pool when they could be by the lake?” he says.

  “I have no idea.”

  We place our towels and things on two side-by-side patio lounge chairs and look out at the lake.

  “You want to go in the water?”

  “Not yet, let’s get some sun first.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He lays back and closes his eyes.

  It isn’t anywhere near as humid here as it is in the city now, and I love it. I find myself wondering if we can squeeze in another weekend getaway before the summer is over.

  The relative quiet is suddenly disturbed when a woman squeals as a man picks her up and hangs her over his shoulder then drops her into the lake. She splashes him before standing up, casually rearranging her tight little bikini over her lady bits.

  As they walk back up the beach, I realize they’re heading for the two empty lounge chairs next to mine. They both stare at us as they slow their pace.

  It takes my brain about five long seconds to recognize the man as my former fiancé. He looks like a Mad Man-era hot dad in his slim red swim trunks, or a vampire principal from a CW show (you know, the kind that can go out in broad daylight). He is frowning and wrinkling his forehead as he approaches, straining to see me in the sun and also probably formulating a strategy for how to deal with me.

  The woman reaches for the towel on the chair next to mine, turning her toned backside to me as she dries off.

  I realize my mouth is hanging open. Time has slowed down and I am not aware of anything else in the world except this woman who’s standing next to me.

  I have had this image of Sadie the nanny in my mind. There, she is blonde, blue-eyed, buxom, with creamy skin and she smells like strawberries. A sexed-up Julie Andrews. Essentially, the opposite of me (a not sexed-up Julie Andrews)—although I do sometimes smell like strawberries.

  The real Sadie is indeed blonde, bleached with hot pink streaks in her hair, a lean lithe yet somehow also curvy body, and an elaborate lower back tattoo that basically looks like an exposed black lace thong. I mean. I could see why guys would find that attractive. But why not just wear a black lace thong? They always end up creeping out of the top of jeans anyway. Wouldn’t it look dumb if she wore patterned boy shorts one day and then the tattoo peeked out behind that? And then I realize: she doesn’t wear underwear. Of course. Why would twenty-two year-old blonde tattooed Sadie wear underwear? Therein lies the main difference between Sadie and me. You take one look at her and start obsessing about her underpants situation, you take one look at me and you think: “I bet she’s really good at reading Captain Underpants books out loud.”

  I feel sick. It’s not a judgment on Sadie, it’s the insidious realization that the two men that I’ve most recently had sex with have also recently had sex with this super sexy sexbot. I had somehow managed not to think about it for thirty glorious seconds and now I can’t imagine ever not thinking about it. I don’t have self-esteem issues, but let’s get real here: I could totally understand why a man would want to procreate with me, because obviously I will be an amazing mom, but why would anyone want to have recreational sex with me after doing it with her? That must be like going from snorting cocaine to drinking a warm can of Coke. There’s no way Vince wanted to have sex with me for any reason other than revenge. It doesn’t make sense.

  As he towels off, Russell says, as casually as if he were greeting a stranger: “Hello, Nina.”

  Sadie turns her head to look at me just as Vince raises himself up on one elbow, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand.

  “Vince?” Her voice is deep and Slavic. Also not what I expected. “What the fuck?”

  “Shit,” he says, under his breath. He sits up and reaches for my hand.

  “Wait, what?” Russell’s voice remains ostensibly calm, but I can see and hear the tension. “What’s going on here?”

  I refuse to feel like a couple of kids who have been caught fooling around under the bleachers, because that is the tone he’s using right now.

  “Hello, Russell,” I say. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Wait, so…That’s your Nina?” Sadie says to Russell. “That’s my Vince.”

  “Not anymore,” Vince says, squeezing my hand.

  Russell holds his hand up in the air. “What is happening here?”

  “Not much, what’s happening with you?” Vince removes his sunglasses and looks Russell straight in the eyes.

  “Nina, did you follow us here?”

  “Are you kidding me? Did you follow us? Because I made reservations like three months ago, you can ask the front desk.”

  Russell’s jaw tightens, but his shoulders relax. “Well, so did I.”

  A look passes between us, barely anything, but we silently realize that we both made surprise reservations for our three-year anniversary here.

  “Imagine that,” I say.

  “So…wait,” says Sadie, dramatically rubbing her temples. “So you guys are together? How did that happen?”

  “It’s really none of your business,” mutters Vince.

  “You sure about that? Because it seems like it has a lot to do with me and Russell. Don’t you think, Russ?”

  Russ? He doesn’t let anyone call him ‘Russ.’ He is so not a Russ.

  He considers before responding, and then comes up with this jewel: “I think it’s their business how they choose to deal with things.”

  Vince guffaws. “Wow. You really are a principal.”

  “Okay,” says Sadie. “Okay. Whatever. So you guys are together and you’re here and we’re here. Okay. Hi, I’m Sadie,” she says to me, extending her hand.

  I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sadie. I’m Nina.”

  Vince and Russell just stare each other down and I feel like I’m in Call of the Wild for a second.

  “So anyway. Good to see you, Vince.” Sadie sits down at the edge of the lounge chair and proceeds to towel-dry her hair. “How’s Charlie?”

  “Fine. He’s great, actually.”

  “I miss him.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I bet he doesn’t even remember me.”

  “He remembers you. He missed you for like a week, but he’s okay.”

  “I wish he had a phone so I could text him.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s eight.”

  “Right. God forbid a Devlin man should keep in touch with a girl.”

  “Right. That’s the point.”

  “We should probably get back to the room,” says Russell, folding up his towel.

  “Yeah, hey Babe?” she says to Russ. “When’s our dinner reservation for? Seven?”

  “Yes.”

  “You guys should join us. We got a table at the restaurant here, out on the deck.”

  “I’m sure they have other plans, Babe,” says Russell.

  “Not for dinner,” someone says, and I am shocked to realize that it is Vince. “Right, Baby? We’d love to join you guys, thanks.”

  I feel Vince tighten his grip on my hand, briefly. “Sure, why not,” I mumble.

  “Cool. It’ll be good to catch up, clear the air and all that, yeah?” She picks up her flip-flops and starts to walk away with Russell. “See you there at seven!”

  When they are out of sight, Vince lays back and covers his face, laughing. “What the fuck just happened?”

  “Why did you say ‘yes?’”

  He sits back up and takes my hands in his. “If you don’t want to go we won’t go. That guy was just so uncomfortable I couldn’t help it.”

  “Vince. I still have to work with him every day starting in September. He’s my supervisor.” I feel sick ag
ain. And suddenly angry. Not at them—at Vince. “Is this still all about getting back at Russell for you?”

  He seems genuinely shocked by this question. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  “Yes, I’m asking you, instead of wondering about it silently to myself until I throw up.”

  “Nina. It hasn’t been about that since I met you. It’s definitely not about that now. I just don’t like the guy and I wanted to piss him off. I have a thing about principals. Baby, I’m sorry. We don’t have to go to dinner with them. We can leave if you want to.” He rubs his lips together, thinking. “I can try to find another resort around here. I know a guy who owns a resort at Lake Placid. It’s not as nice as this, but…”

  “No, I like it here. I don’t want to leave. They should leave.”

  “I agree.” He moves over to my lounge chair and wraps his arms around me. “Come on. Don’t you think it would be fun? They’re the weirdest fucking couple ever and we’re amazing.”

  “Yeah, but…I just don’t want to make this about them.” I also don’t want you looking at Sadie and remembering how awesome it is to fuck her.

  “Nothing’s about them. Everything’s about us. Come on, it’ll be fun. If it’s not we’ll leave.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “It is so weird seeing them together.”

  “Right? But what’s weirder is seeing you and him together. I mean, Sadie’s got daddy issues, but you?...”

  “I know. I’m not going to explain it again, it just made sense when it made sense.”

  He kisses my shoulder, then wipes his mouth because sunscreen doesn’t taste good. He puts his aviators back on and rests his hand on my thigh. I stare at his beautiful face. I love that face. I want that face all up in my face. When he looks over at me, I can tell he’s feeling the exact same rush as I am, all of a sudden.

  “Is it just me or are you also feeling super horny right now?”

  “Race you back to the room.” He hops up, and we speed-walk past families and other couples. “Felt good being outside for a minute, though. This is a special place.”

  “Yeah I’m really glad we came.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nina

  I can’t say that I’ve ever gone into a double-date situation with high hopes, but my ambitious goal for tonight is merely to suffer through it without anyone getting punched or a drink thrown in their face. Having packed for a romantic sexy weekend getaway with Vince, all of my outfits were selected with the objective of inspiring him to rip them off of me. For this dinner, I chose to wear the most conservative of options—a pretty red flowery dress and sandals. Vince has ostensibly spent exactly zero seconds deciding what to wear or worrying about what the next couple of hours will be like.

  “You ready to go?” he asks, as he sends off an e-mail and slides his phone into his pocket. I stare at his hands. His beautiful, slightly rough, capable hands. I want them on me. “You look beautiful. I love you in red.”

  “Thanks. Let’s get this over with, I guess.”

  He takes my hand and kisses my cheek. “I think this is gonna be fun. Not as fun as what we did on the couch this afternoon, but you know. Entertaining.”

  I grab him and hug him. He hasn’t proved to be much of a hugger before now, but I just want to press my body up against his and breathe him in. He gently rubs my back, and I feel the masculine warmth of him down to my bones. The epic montage of sex this afternoon was a chaos of disparate emotions that I don’t have the time or space to sort through, but right now I feel dangerously attached to him.

  There’s nothing like having a Them to make you feel like an Us.

  We’re both startled to hear the door to the room next to us slam shut. We were treated to the muffled sounds of the couple going at it off and on for the past hour, and I mean “going at it” in the bad way. Not the way Vince and I were going at it. That was the good way. The really good way. And we were not quiet.

  Vince’s hand is on the doorknob, but he waits to turn it, because we hear the adjacent door open and shut again and a man’s voice hiss, “Sadie! Wait for me!”

  Our wide eyes lock together. My hand covers my mouth as he starts laughing.

  “Oh shit,” he says quietly.

  “Oh no. We should wait—”

  He opens the door and ushers me out into the hallway. Sadie is waiting at the elevator, hands on her hips, foot tapping. Russell strides towards her, his body rigid. If Sadie’s got daddy issues, she clearly wants a spanking. And a summer cold. Because she’s wearing what appears to be a large napkin tied around her torso, and white shorts that confirm my suspicion that she flies commando. I guess I shouldn’t talk. I was barely wearing anything when we drove up here. What is it about Vince that just makes women want to expose themselves?

  Vince and I are about ten feet behind Russell. When Sadie looks back, her petulant face falls, and then her eyes narrow.

  “Hey guys. I was just rushing downstairs so we wouldn’t have to keep you waiting.”

  “So considerate, as always,” says Vince.

  Russell slows his pace and turns his head. “Oh hello.”

  “Small world, I guess we’ve got the room next to yours,” says Vince.

  I watch Sadie’s face and read her thoughts: What the fuck? Fuck, they heard us fighting. Fuck, we heard them fucking. Fuck, I should have worn an even smaller napkin. She reaches out for Russell’s hand. “Small world, indeed. Still getting my head wrapped around this whole situation. You guys have a nice afternoon? We found the most adorable antique stores. Russ really hit the jackpot.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a windfall, but I found the perfect vintage brass lamp for my home office and a copy of an old Herbie Hancock record that’s in much better condition than the one I have now.”

  “Oh yeah? Which album?” Vince seems genuinely curious.

  “Speak Like a Child. It’s not one of his best-known.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got that one. Transitional. I love that album—Mickey Roker on drums. Great drummer.”

  As we all step into the elevator, Russell gives Vince the once-over. “You like Roker? He played on my favorite Dizzy Gillespie album.”

  “Big 4?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “I dunno, instinct. ‘September Song.’”

  “Yes! That’s my favorite track.”

  While they continue geeking out over classic jazz artists and vinyl, Sadie leans back and widens her eyes at me, smirking. I smile and shrug and wonder if maybe this dinner won’t be so terrible after all. Maybe we’ll all get along. We definitely have the potential to, so why not?

  Russell certainly looks more easy-going than he used to. He’s wearing dark jeans with cuffs and a black T-shirt. She must be dressing him. The most casual garments I’d ever seen him in were chinos and summer weight button-down shirts. He’s even wearing contacts. He once told me he’d rather be blind than stick contact lenses on his eyeballs. I guess he’d rather stick contact lenses on his eyeballs than not get to see Sadie’s tramp stamp up close.

  Vince and I sit across from Sadie and Russell at a table on the deck with a panoramic view of the lake and mountains, and it has taken us all about two minutes to power through a bottle of red after Vince cryptically toasted “to fate” and Sadie toasted “to karma.”

  “So, what have you guys been up to?” Sadie asks. “Just hanging out?”

  “Oh you know,” Vince says. “Hanging out, staying in, going out, eating out…Attending to certain neglected areas in Nina’s life.” He looks right at Russell as he says this. I pinch his thigh. “How about you guys?”

  I don’t think Russell got the reference, and I’m glad.

  “Same, really,” Sadie says. “We eat out practically every night. He’s developed a taste for it.” She glances at me with her eyebrow slightly raised.

  “We went to a new tapas restaurant in Queens last week. Fantastic.”

  Oh, Russ. So blissfully unaware of anything outside your own limited interest
s.

  Sadie, on the other hand. Her eyes are always wide-open and watching everything, but it’s not a doe-eyed interest in the world, it’s plain to me that she’s studying, figuring things out, deciding what to do, how to play it. It must be exhausting.

  “It was fantastic. Russ has really opened up my palate. And I always thought I had a good tongue.”

  Vince rolls his eyes. His hand has been on my thigh ever since we sat down. He gives me a little squeeze.

  “Actually, Babe, the nose and the mind are more involved than the tongue in an evolved palate.”

  Sadie playfully sticks her tongue out at Russell, revealing a tongue stud. So she has that going for her too. Having sex with me after having sex with her must be like riding the world’s greatest roller coaster and then hopping onto a rickety old merry-go-round.

  I look around for the waiter and signal that we need more wine.

  “Vince. Sadie tells me you’re a realtor.”

  “I’m a commercial real estate broker.”

  “That must be interesting.”

  “It can be. I just closed a deal on a gorgeous location in Brooklyn Heights for a big up-and-coming chef, it should be an exciting new restaurant in a few months.”

  “That so? Which chef would that be?”

  “Clive Court. He owns Succulent, in the East Village.”

  “Oh sure,” Russell nods and wipes his mouth with his napkin, swallowing his buttered bread. “We went there last year.” He gestures towards me. “Not my favorite.”

  “I remember liking it a lot. Beautiful space.”

  “Wow, you finally closed that deal, huh? He was working on that back when we were together,” she says to me.

  “I think you mean back when you and Russell were together.” Vince sounds so lighthearted, it barely registers as a dig.

  Sadie smiles and tilts her head. “You’re right. You were so busy at that point, you barely had time for me.”

  “Actually, you were the one who was always ‘busy with the new job.’”

  “I was. Brooks was a real handful in the beginning.”

  Russell clears his throat. “It’s true, actually. He was getting into a lot of trouble at school, but Sadie’s been a good influence on him. She really keeps him in line.”