There was an assortment of people in and around the pool. Chelsea found a chair and laid her towel, magazine, and shades on it. Then she slipped off her flip-flops and slowly and carefully peeled off her tank top, making sure that the bikini top stayed in the proper place and that the strings were still securely tied. She slipped off her shorts, also checking the strings on the bikini bottom and wondering if she might be in need of a Brazilian wax job like she’d just read about in one of the magazines. Apparently Brazil was well known for a number of hair-related procedures.
She stood there for a long moment, feeling very conspicuous and uncomfortable and more than a little silly. All her old insecure feelings of extreme shyness, self-consciousness, and fear rushed through her. She wanted to grab her clothes and run and hide. Really, who did she think she was going out in public practically nude? This was something she never would’ve done before—something she would’ve made fun of even. What was wrong with her now?
But ignoring these inner voices, she held her head high and slowly walked—make that sauntered—down to the shallow end of the pool. As she did, she felt a number of eyes on her. She feigned oblivion, telling herself she didn’t care who stared. Not for the first time, she wished that Virginia and her old “friends” could see her now, but she decided to be content with the eyes that were on her. And there were definitely eyes on her. Eyes of all ages and sorts, but primarily male.
She slowly got into the water and just stood there at waist depth. Then slowly she immersed herself. After the warmth of the air, the water felt cool but not cold. She felt greatly relieved to be concealed, at least partially, by the water. She began to slowly swim, and as she did so she smiled, not particularly because she felt like smiling, but because she hoped it would make her feel more relaxed and at ease.
Finally Chelsea was tired of swimming and even a little weary of her self-imposed test. She felt she had passed, or nearly. She still needed to emerge from the pool, hopefully with the bikini remaining in place. She stood in the shallow end again, taking her time to make adjustments, ensuring that both portions of the bikini were covering what little they covered. She realized that wearing a bikini was no small feat—and in all honestly not as much fun as a suit that covered her better and allowed her to move with more freedom and less self-consciousness. But then, this was a test.
Adopting what she hoped was an air of nonchalance, she slowly went up the steps and out of the pool. She shook her wet hair, and holding her head high, she walked over to her chair. After a bit of towel-drying, which was almost unnecessary in the desert heat, she sat down in the chair, put her shades back on, picked up her magazine, and pretended to be reading. But in actuality she was congratulating herself not only for passing her test but for giving a great performance. With the acting skills she was developing, perhaps she could participate in drama and do more than just paint scenery or help with lighting.
“Hey.” A tanned, well-built guy with sandy hair stood over her, looking down with more than a little appreciation. “This seat taken?”
“No.” She smiled casually.
“I’m Trey,” he said as he moved the chair closer to her and sat down. He looked directly at her with surprising intensity. “You are beautiful.”
She laughed. “Well, thanks . . . I guess.”
He leaned forward even closer now. His blue eyes sparkled like the pool water, and she could tell by his abs that he worked out regularly and definitely felt comfortable in his own skin. “I mean it. I saw you getting out of the pool just now, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. You are really beautiful.”
She felt that old familiar warmth rushing up her neck, but she was not going to give in to it. This was just part of her test, and she was determined to ace it. “Well, thanks.” She gave him a cheesy smile. “You’re sweet.”
“I assume you don’t live around here, but I’m curious where you’re from. And since I told you my name, how about if you tell me yours?”
Trying to maintain the appearance of calmness and confidence and reminding herself of Kate’s rules, she told him her name and explained why she and her dad were headed to San Jose. Trey told her that he was from Fort Worth, that he’d come out here with a friend, and that they were checking out a couple of campuses in the area.
“How about spending some time together?” he said. “My bud Craig and I were going to send out for pizzas and order up some pay-per-view flicks. We’ve got some brewskies already chilling in the fridge. It’d be fun to get to know you better, Chelsea.”
Chelsea tried not to appear shocked, but this was all very new to her. She had never been propositioned before. At least that’s what she assumed this was. Not that she planned to ask for any specific clarification. But even as a multitude of frantic thoughts ran through her head, she managed to keep a calm smile on her lips. This was her big chance to stay cool in the midst of fire.
“No thanks,” she told him. “But I appreciate the offer.” Another smile. Not too big, just enough to ooze confidence. She flipped a page of her magazine, like she was done with him.
“Oh, come on,” he urged. “We can play some cards or just hang . . . get to know each other. If you want, I can send Craig packing.” He grinned like she would appreciate that.
She looked back at him now, tipping her shades up to make direct eye contact. “Really, Trey, I already have dinner plans. But thanks anyway.”
This guy was stubborn. He pleaded and begged and cajoled. But she kept her wits about her and never let on how nervous and jittery he was making her feel. She kept reminding herself that this was part of the test. It occurred to her that, for all she knew, he could actually be a sociopathic serial killer. Like that guy with the Dutch name who’d finally been caught in South America.
Finally, growing weary of the game and of Trey, not to mention a little worried, she stood up and told him she needed to go. Of course, this brought a bit of a dilemma. How did she gracefully get back into her shorts and top with him standing there gawking at her? And that was just what he was doing too. Gawking. Plus he just wasn’t giving up.
As she slowly gathered her things, he was saying things like “what about after dinner?” and “the night is young,” and “who knows when we’ll meet again?” like he thought he was starring in some low-budget indie film. She decided to skip trying to redress and simply wrap her towel around her again like a sarong skirt. But as she was tucking it under, Trey placed one hand on her arm—uncomfortably close to her breast, she thought—then leaned forward and touched her cheek with his other hand. “Really, Chelsea, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I can’t believe you’re ditching me like this. Won’t you reconsider?”
“Excuse me.” Her dad stepped up with a very disturbed expression.
“Hi, Dad,” she said nervously.
Trey’s hands fell to his side, and as he stepped back with a guilty look, Chelsea felt certain she could see the color draining from his tanned face. In the same instant, she felt the blood rushing to her own.
Chelsea smiled nervously, clutching her things toward her like a shield. “I was just telling Trey that it was time for me to go have dinner with my dad,” she said evenly.
“Were you now?” Dad peered at Trey, then at her, and finally back at Trey again.
“That’s right.” Trey took another step back, almost as if he thought Dad was about to deck him. “She was just leaving.”
Dad seemed to see Chelsea’s bikini top for the first time, and his reaction looked like a combination of horror and outrage.
“Let’s go, Dad.” She tugged on his arm. “I’m starving now.”
“Yeah, all right.” He tossed one last glance at Trey, who was now scurrying away like he couldn’t disappear quickly enough.
Before they reached the lobby, she managed to slip her tank top over her head and was just pulling it down to meet the waist of her towel sarong as they reached the elevators.
“Is that one of the, uh, swimsuits
Kate got for you?” he asked as they went into the elevator.
She nodded and pushed the button for their floor.
“Well then, I better have myself a talk with that woman.”
“Oh, Dad,” Chelsea said in a scolding tone. “Don’t start calling Kate that woman.”
“I just want to know where she gets off giving you something like that, Chelsea.” His face was getting red, and it looked like he was more than just mildly irritated. Her earlier imaginings of a stroke didn’t seem too far-fetched. “It was one thing for Kate to do all this makeover business with you. But if she thinks she can turn you into a little—” He stopped himself, but Chelsea knew by his expression that he’d been about to use an offensive word.
“Dad!” She shook her head like she was disappointed.
“Well, I have a right to my opinion, Chelsea. I am your father.” The doors opened to their floor, and Chelsea hurried out ahead. Her dad came sputtering behind her. “You listen to me, Chelsea. Just because you look like a grown-up woman doesn’t mean that you are one. You’re only sixteen, and you’re acting like—”
“I know how old I am,” she said in a stern but even voice, sticking her key card in the door. “But thanks for reminding me.”
“We’re going to talk some more about this,” he said as she headed straight for the bathroom. “At dinner!”
“Great,” she called back as she closed the door. “I can’t wait.”
She felt a flurry of emotions as she showered. On the one hand, she’d been somewhat relieved to see her dad down by the pool. That whole scene with Trey had been getting weirder and weirder. Yet she’d felt flattered at the attention Trey had been showering on her, and knowing that he was older was kind of cool too. Yet there was that whole sociopath fear. What was up with that?
Now her dad was not only mad at her but at Kate as well. Somehow she needed to smooth this whole thing over. To do that, she decided it would be wise to just tell the truth. Well, most of the truth. She didn’t have to tell him everything.
During dinner she explained about wanting to give herself a test. “I wanted to see if I could be comfortable in my own skin,” she told him. “And for some reason that bikini seemed like a good idea.”
He groaned.
“But I realized that I’m not really comfortable in a swimsuit as skimpy as that.”
“Really?” He looked up from his salad with a hopeful expression.
“Yes. I doubt I’ll ever wear it again.”
He shook his head with a puzzled look. “I just don’t know why Kate thought that was appropriate for you.”
“Because lots of girls wear bikinis, Dad.”
“But that doesn’t mean you have to wear something like that.”
“I’ll bet Kate has a bikini.” She shook her finger at him. “And I’ll bet that if she wore a bikini on your honeymoon, you wouldn’t complain.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Would you?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I might complain if I saw some guy ogling Kate the way that big testosterone-driven goon was ogling you down by the pool.”
Chelsea laughed. “Well, don’t worry, Dad. I was actually trying to lose that big testosterone-driven goon anyway.”
“That’s reassuring.” He gave her a relieved smile.
For a moment she considered confessing her crazy fear about how Trey might’ve been a sociopathic serial killer. But she knew that was ridiculous, and it would probably upset her dad as well. Better to just let this pass and forget about it. In the future, she’d be more careful.
“I’m so glad you’re still a sensible girl, Chelsea.” Dad took a sip of iced tea. “Even if you look, well, different on the outside, it’s good to know you’re still the same underneath.”
Although she nodded, Chelsea knew that wasn’t really true. She wasn’t the same underneath anymore. Oh, some things were the same, but she was working hard to change herself. She was determined to evolve far beyond the scared wallflower from before.
As planned, they got up early the next morning. After a long day, in which they took turns driving and practiced the lyrics of the San Jose song, they arrived at the hotel just a little before midnight.
“I got the suite for a full week,” Dad told her as they carried their bags down the hallway.
“A suite?” she asked.
“Yes. One side has a kitchen and living room with a pullout bed. There’s an adjoining bedroom as well. That way we’ll have some space.”
“Shall we flip a coin for the bedroom?”
He chuckled. “That’s an idea, but I thought I’d let you have it. You’ve been a real trouper these past few days, but I hear that teen girls need their privacy.”
She grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”
They both slept in late the next morning, ordering room service around noon and just taking it easy. Then they spent the afternoon driving around and checking out the lay of the land. Dad had already narrowed down which part of the city they’d relocate to, close to the corporate headquarters where he’d be working. After driving by there, he swung by the high school. “Thought you’d like a sneak peek at your new stomping grounds,” he told her.
“It looks like a nice school,” she said.
“It’s ranked quite high in the state,” he said. “You might want to check out the school’s website and see if you can preregister.”
He drove through some of the nearby neighborhoods. It didn’t take long before they both agreed that San Sebastian Estates was by far the nicest development, and there were several houses for sale.
“I’m guessing the homes in here will be in the top of our price range,” Dad said a bit dismally.
“They say you get what you pay for, Dad.”
He chuckled. “Unless you’re in the designer discount outlet business. In that case, you get a bargain.”
“Oh, Dad.” She pointed across the street. “Hey, check out that house—it’s for sale.”
He parked on the street in front of a pale yellow stucco house and nodded. “That’s definitely a nice-looking one.”
Chelsea hopped out of the car, grabbed one of the flyers, and started reading. “It’s got four bedrooms,” she said as she got back in. “And three baths—that would be one for each of us!”
“That sounds good.” He leaned over to see the flyer. “The price isn’t as bad as I’d expected. It’s still a little high, though.”
“But you can offer less,” she told him. “People do that all the time.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“Oh, it has a pool!”
As she continued to gush about the house, Dad agreed to call his Realtor, but all he could do was leave a message. As they drove back to the hotel, Chelsea informed him she wanted to continue being involved in the house hunting. “For Kate’s sake,” she assured him. “No offense, but I think I might know her tastes better than you.”
The next morning the Realtor picked them up at the hotel, and they started looking at properties in San Sebastian. For some reason the Realtor was unenthused about the yellow stucco house. Although he was polite to Chelsea, she could tell he wasn’t interested in her opinions when it came to real estate. Finally she pulled Dad into a laundry room of another ho-hum house and closed the door. “Have you noticed that Greg is only showing us houses that are listed with his real estate company?” she said in a hushed tone.
Dad’s brow creased. “Now that you mention it . . .”
“And he doesn’t want us to look at the yellow stucco house.”
“So it seems.”
“I think we should lose this Realtor, Dad.”
“Maybe so. But first let me give him one more chance to show us the yellow house.”
She agreed and they went back out. Greg was looking all pleased with himself now, like he thought they really liked this house and were discussing making an offer on it.
Dad cleared his throat. “Chelsea and I would really like to see that
yellow stucco house over on Laredo Lane.”
“Oh, you don’t want that house,” Greg said quickly. “I heard it’s had water damage and—”
“I think I need to go back to the hotel.” Chelsea held her stomach like she was in pain. “I don’t feel too well, Dad.”
Dad looked curiously at her, then realizing what she was up to, he played along, even putting his hand on her forehead. “You feel like you might have a fever.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave a sickly sigh. “Please, Dad, I need to go back to the hotel now.”
Realtor Greg looked slightly irritated, but he complied, and as soon as they got back to their hotel, Chelsea called the phone number from the flyer for the yellow stucco house, telling the Realtor that they’d meet her there.
“Wow.” Dad looked impressed. “Maybe I should let you handle the whole house-buying business.”
“Fine with me. Do you want me to drive too?”
“No thanks. Not this time.”
Before long they were strolling through the yellow stucco house, which was as sweet inside as out. “Did this house have water damage?” Chelsea asked the Realtor as they stood in the spacious kitchen.
Maria frowned. “Water damage?”
“Another Realtor mentioned something about it.”
Maria shook her head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing here. I haven’t seen any repairs or stains to imply that’s true. But I can check the insurance records to see.”
While Dad asked her more questions, grilling her about utilities and taxes and other boring stuff, Chelsea took another walk through the house. The wood floors echoed as she walked, and she tried to imagine where they’d place their furniture. She decided to call Kate.
“Oh, I’m so glad you answered,” Chelsea exclaimed when Kate picked up. “I thought I’d get your voice mail.”
“What’s up?”
Chelsea told her about the house. “It’s so beautiful,” she gushed. “I think you’ll like it. And there’s a pool and a hot tub.”
Jerk Magnet, The (Life at Kingston High Book #1) Page 6
