Falling Too Deep

by Shay Lee Giertz

  Fantastic. So much for avoiding Heather. “We just arrived, and I think Mom has plans.”

  “Brooke McFadden?” Heather asked with a friendly smile. It was disconcerting after seeing her glare at me for the last several weeks. And how did she know my last name? We wouldn’t have been introduced yet.

  “How do you know my last name?” I asked, not too friendly. I wasn’t about to be the victim of any jokes this time around.

  “My parents have been talking about you and your family for the last couple of months. They were so excited when your mother agreed to spend the summer here. It’s nice to actually meet you.”

  I took a bite of the ice cream to keep my mouth occupied.

  “You’ll have to come tonight,” she finally said, after an awkward pause. “We’ll hang out and talk and discuss what’s been going on in our lives.”

  “I think it sounds fun,” Jayce jumped in. “Let’s go, Brooke. We can meet a bunch of people.”

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

  “What time does the bonfire start?” Jayce asked.

  “The party begins at nine p.m. It’ll be over by the harbor. I better see you two.”

  “Don’t think too hard. Smoke might start coming out of your ears.” Jayce swatted his towel at me.

  I gave a half-smile, still bothered at these new puzzle pieces I couldn’t quite fit together.

  “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

  “What’s that?” I asked, still preoccupied with my thoughts.

  “Try smiling once in a while.”

  His words turned my attention to him. “I smile. To people I like.”

  “And what? You don’t like that girl?”

  He wouldn’t understand. “What am I going to do?” I asked, more to myself.

  “About what?”

  “This place isn’t for me.” The words rang true. “I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of rich people for another three months.” Jayce raised his eyebrows, but I waved my hand. “Never mind.”

  “Listen, I know it’s probably hard right now, but take my advice and enjoy the summer. This yacht club is beautiful. I wish I could just chill the summer away and not have to keep busy with work.”

  Keep busy with work…

  “Hey!” I said a little too loudly, startling a lady beside me. To Jayce, I asked, “Can you get me a job?”

  The idea was pure genius. None of the rich folks noticed the “club slaves,” other than to complain. If I worked just as much as Jayce, I would be out of the rental, I wouldn’t be worrying Mom so much, and I would be avoiding the Fairchilds. If I stayed busy, I wouldn’t give any of these people another thought. And Mom wouldn’t complain about me trying to make a little cash, especially if I spun it right.

  “Why would you want to work all summer when you got a nice vacation lined up with your family?”

  “Mom’s been bugging me to get a job, so I can save money for a car of my own. Plus, I’d be hanging out with you.”

  The other customers left, and Jayce leaned forward to say, “I’d like that, Brooke. We haven’t hung out in a while.” Jayce rubbed his chin. “I saw on the bulletin board outside the dorms that the restaurant had a server position available.”

  “Maybe I’ll go talk to the manager.” That’s exactly what I needed to do. The idea of a job sounded promising.

  “See if they have more than one position available. Maybe I could wait tables when I’m not serving ice cream and slushies.”

  Now I was excited. Hopefully, I could talk the manager into hiring me.

  Jayce looked at me funny.

  “What?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  “So?”

  “It’s just that I haven’t seen you smile like this in a long time.”

  Feeling relieved and a little elated, I reached over the counter and hugged Jayce. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  He hugged me back. “Anything for you.”

  More customers had walked up wanting ice cream, so I waved Jayce good-bye and headed toward the yacht club’s restaurant. I wasn’t too sure I’d make a good waitress, but if this was the chance I needed to escape the drama from the previous summer, and protect my heart in the process, I’d take it.

  I walked into the restaurant as a blast of air conditioning hit me.

  “Welcome to the Boardwalk. How many?”

  I smiled at the older girl and said as politely as possible, “I was hoping the manager was available. I heard you were looking for servers.”

  “Sure.” She put the menus back in their slot and picked up the phone. “Miguel? Yes, a girl just walked in interested in the server position…Okay…” She hung up and motioned to the kitchen doors. “He’s right back there. A little heads up: he’s doing duel-duties because the head chef upped and left last minute. So, he’s cranky.”

  “Should I come back at a later time?” Cranky managers didn’t sound so appealing.

  “Oh, it’ll be fine. He’ll be happy for the extra help.” The hostess smiled, but she acted unsure.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said, making an instant decision. I couldn’t stay in that cabin one more minute more than I had to. I only hoped I didn’t get tongue-tied.

  As I walked past, my eyes scanned the bar area, and stopped on Mrs. Fairchild, sitting on a stool, nursing a drink, laughing with the bartender over some private joke. She leaned forward and whispered in the bartender’s ear before sitting back and laughing at whatever she just said. Well, now I knew where Heather got her moves from.

  Ugh, disgusting. It seemed like Mr. Fairchild wasn’t the only participant in extramarital activities. If I could avoid Heather this second go-round, I could also help my mother avoid Mr. Fairchild.

  That would be tough because—if I remembered correctly—Mom and Mr. Fairchild had been close friends back in school. So there was already a connection. They would be stopping over tonight. Mr. Fairchild invited us on their yacht for the Fourth of July party.

  My stomach flipped. Eventually, we were bound to run into each other. Unless I was fortunate enough to wake up from this.

  Please, let me wake up from this. I pinched myself as I silently prayed. Nope. Still here.

  Stepping into the kitchen provided a stark contrast to the calmness of the restaurant. The kitchen was a flurry of activity with sous chefs working different stations, dishwashers finishing up lunch plates and glasses, and the head chef in the center of it all, yelling at some tall guy holding a soup pot. “The onions are overpowering! And where are the other seasonings?”

  “But I followed your orders—”

  “You know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

  The young man gave a slight nod but acted as if that might not have been the response he was going for.

  Miguel went back to whipping some concoction. Another employee came up, holding a thick book of what appeared to be recipes, but he stood there, unable to speak, looking from the book to Miguel. “You have two minutes, and you’ve already wasted one,” he growled, without looking up. “Tick, tick, tick.”

  “Uh, I’m thinking Chicken Feta Salad with a mild dressing paired with wild rice soup, broth-based, not cream-based.” The man balanced the book on his hip, waiting for the response.

  “Vegetable soup base with wild rice,” Miguel said. “Make it zucchini.”

  The man smiled proudly and nodded.

  With everyone busy, Miguel never acknowledged me, only barked orders occasionally at specific workstations. “Are you the manager?” I asked.

  He gave me a look that said what-do-you-think. “Currently, I’m everything. Talk to me.”

  “I want a job.”

  “No kidding. I wouldn’t have let you back here if I hadn’t already known that.”

  “My friend, Jayce Phillips, told me you still needed servers for the summer. I’m a hard worker, and what I don’t know, I can learn.”

  He set the bowl and whisk down. “Jamal, the beef base is done. Since you couldn’t do it righ
t.” Jamal, another sous chef, took the bowl and mumbled a thank you. “Do you have any experience?” Miguel turned away from me to open a cabinet door.

  “I’ve babysat for the last two years.” I calculated in my head. Had it only been one year? “Well, two years total. Not consecutively.”

  Miguel raised his eyebrow but kept working.

  “I served at the Senior Banquet a few months ago.” It was just a few weeks ago, but my calendar in my head was all messed up. “And I was a server at my church’s spaghetti dinner as well.”

  “The church’s spaghetti dinner, huh? So, will the pastor give a good reference?”

  I hoped my face didn’t pale, but I felt the blood drain from it as I remembered my last conversation with our family’s reverend. After the funeral, Mom took me to see him for counseling. I might have said something along the lines of never wanting to speak to God again, but I hadn’t meant it. Surely, the pastor knew that. “I don’t have a lot of experience,” I managed to squeak out, eyeing the door.

  “You’re eighteen?”

  “I will be in two weeks.”

  Miguel slammed the cupboard and turned to me. “You can’t serve alcohol until you’re eighteen, but I guess we can work with that for two weeks. Luckily for you, I’m desperate. One of the girls decided a month after hiring her that she was going to elope with her boyfriend. And guess who the boyfriend was?”

  “Uh, the chef?”

  “You got it! So, I’m short-handed, and we’re swamped. Tracy doesn’t come in for another hour, but Maddie upfront will give you the paperwork and a few black t-shirts with our logo. You’ll have to wear your khaki shorts or capris. The pay is awful, but the tips should be excellent. After you’re done with the paperwork, show up in uniform at four.”

  “I’m hired?” I asked in shock. “Thank you!”

  Several kitchen staff members watched me with expressions of you-don’t-know-what-you’re-getting-yourself-into, but I was too excited to care. I walked back to the hostess, who was writing on a clipboard. “Maddie?”

  She glanced up and smiled. “So how’d it go?”

  “I’m supposed to ask you for some shirts and paperwork.”

  “Cool. We’ll be co-workers. You already know I’m Maddie. What about you?”

  “Brooke McFadden.”

  We shook hands before she led me to the bar area. Mrs. Fairchild still sat on the stool, but this time Mr. Fairchild sat next to her. Neither one spoke, only watched the news on the television. I stayed to the side while Maddie pulled out some papers from a drawer. “Hey Pete, this is Brooke,” Maddie said to the bartender. “She’ll be one of the servers.”

  Pete glanced up from drying off some shot glasses. I remembered him from before.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  Mr. Fairchild sighed and told Pete to turn up the television since we were talking. We had barely said anything, but Pete turned up the volume without complaint.

  I wanted to say something sarcastic like, “You’ve got a mansion the size of Rhode Island at the yacht club, not to mention your mini-island-of-a-yacht, and you’re in the Boardwalk, watching T.V.?” But I saw Lucas approaching and ducked behind the bar. I couldn’t have him see me like this! I looked like a homeless person.

  Maddie whispered, “I’ll take you to an outside table,” then watched me as I lifted the papers in front of my face and walked sideways to the front. I chose one of the outside tables where my back would be facing the bar.

  “Let me guess,” she said conspiratorially. “Lucas Fairchild got to you, huh?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Stay here. I’ll go get those shirts. And don’t feel bad. Lucas does that to all of us.”

  I filled out the papers while she went back and got me a few shirts, forcing myself not to look back at Lucas. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I snuck a peek. He sat on the barstool, talking to his mother. Neither one of them appeared happy. But there he was. In a gray t-shirt, black shorts, and boater’s sandals. I had to remind myself to breathe. What in the world was he doing here?

  My cell phone rang, and I jumped, knocking the pen to the floor. I checked and saw it was Mom.

  “Hey.” I picked up the pen and started filling out the paperwork.

  “Where are you?” she asked. “I thought about grilling us some burgers for tonight.”

  “I’m filling out some paperwork at the Boardwalk restaurant.”

  “Why?”

  “I got a job.”

  “You lost me for a second. Did you say you got a job at the Boardwalk restaurant?”

  “Yes, isn’t it exciting?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know you wanted to work this summer,” she said. “You should be relaxing and meeting new people. Worry about getting a job in the fall.”

  “Jayce told me the tips here are great, and I think it will be fun. And I still get to meet new people. Come on, Mom. I really want to do this.”

  She paused for a few seconds before saying, “Of course, sweetie. If you want a job, I’ll support you, but don’t work the whole summer away.”

  I gave some non-committal answer because that’s exactly what I planned to do. Work the whole summer away. Or at least until I woke up from this crazy dream.

  7

  I collapsed onto the couch and kicked off my shoes.

  “You smell like French fries,” Bobby said. “And not in a good way. Like smelly French fries.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

  “How was the first evening on the job?” Mom asked. She handed me a glass of lemonade then sat beside me.

  “The first hour was kind of boring because I had to sit in the backroom and watch videos on how to handle food and how to serve alcohol and another one on sexual harassment. Then Miguel had me shadow Tracy. I didn’t realize how much waitresses have to hustle. It’s so busy. Anyway most everyone was cool.”

  “I thought you couldn’t serve alcohol until you’re eighteen?”

  “Yeah, but I still have to watch the training videos. Plus my birthday is just two weeks away. He said they’d work with me until then.”

  “Speaking of birthdays,” Mom said. “I was thinking of throwing you a party here. Maybe have a bonfire?”

  “Could I invite my friends?” Bobby asked. “I already met a bunch of kids.”

  “Mom, I don’t know anyone. I’d rather it be low-key. Like dinner and a cake.”

  “You only turn eighteen once.”

  “You can always take me to purchase my first pack of cigarettes,” I said with a grin.

  “Ha, ha.” Someone knocked at the door, so Mom went to answer it. “Oh, hi, Jayce.”

  Jayce came into the living room. “So? How was it?”

  “Good. How’s the concession stand?”

  “Considering I received about a dozen invites by pretty girls to go to this bonfire tonight, not too bad.”

  “Yeah, Maddie asked me to go. I guess it’s gonna be big.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s already ten o’clock, and you’re still in uniform,” Jayce chided.

  “I’m not going.” Before he could say anything, I added, “I’m tired, and I just got in. Mom wants to hang out with me.”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Mom said. “You should go. Have a good time. Just no drugs or sex.”

  I thought about what excuse could work. It’s not like I could say that I was trying to avoid Heather and keep an eye on my mother. Not to mention I had to figure out what was going on with this do-over.

  “You’re going,” Jayce said. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re not about to leave me by myself.”

  “The way you did when you left me for Heather after promising that you wouldn’t do that?”

  Jayce scrunched his face up, acting confused. “When did I do that?”

  “It’s this thing Brooke does,” Bobby explained. “She’s psychic.”

  Jayce loo
ked unconvinced while Mom let out an exaggerated sigh. “Not this again.”

  “Ignore Bobby. He’s weird.” I walked by my little brother, got his attention, and pretended to zip up my lips. Hopefully, he got the message. “Give me a few minutes.”

  In my room, I grabbed some clean jeans and a t-shirt and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I stepped inside the bathtub and shut the curtains. As the water poured over me, I just stood still. This couldn’t be a dream. All of it felt so real. Which made me even more confused. Then what was happening? Why did I get to do over the entire summer with everyone, but no one else remembered?

  The only explanation that made any sense was one I had a hard time thinking about. Death. It had to be it. I shuddered in the shower even though the water was hot. If I was dead, then this was some sort of purgatory. Since death was a big unknown, I wasn’t sure how it worked. No one had let me know what the rules were to this level of otherworld.

  But how could I be dead when I felt very much alive?

  Not coming up with any answers, I ended the shower and finished getting ready. But the only one in the living room was Jayce.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “To bed. You took forever.”

  I started to defend myself but saw his grin. “Shut up.” I playfully punched his arm as I moved past him.

  We started walking down the boardwalk. “I can see the bonfire from here.”

  “I’m glad you decided to come,” Jayce said. “I miss our dance parties.”

  “I do too. Tonight, we’ll dance.”

  “Promise? Don’t make a promise if you can’t keep it,” he joked. “My heart won’t be able to handle it if you let me down.”

  “You. Me. Dance floor. I promise. Well, sand instead of dance floor, but you get the drift.”

  Jayce pulled me to him and draped his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll make the sand a dance floor.”

  As we approached the party, I grew nervous. I didn’t want Heather to notice me. I didn’t want there to be any pranks. I thought I could flip a switch and go from hiding under the covers to partying it up. But no, I doubted myself. “Maybe I’m not ready. I’m not feeling too well.”

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Jayce said, reaching for my arm. “Don’t leave me now. Dance floor. Promise. Remember?”