Cruel Summer

by Lisa Cardwell

  “Late night?” She sounded very amused.

  “Kind of.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Knew what? That I wished I slept ’til three?” I sat up when I realized trying to fall back asleep proved beyond futile and leaned against the pillows, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

  “What did you want, Sor?” I repeated.

  If this could be a quick convo, maybe I would be able to grab another half hour of sleep. Not that I hadn’t slept well; it’s just I kept dreaming of JT and that kiss, and I kinda wanted to go back to it.

  “Oh, right. I was going to ask if you’d seen something, but obviously, no, you haven’t.”

  “Seen what?” She wasn’t making any sense.

  “There’s a JT mention in the online gossip this morning. It talks about spotting him walking around with a mystery girl late last night.”

  I grew more awake with every word I heard. “Mystery girl?”

  I could almost see her nodding. “There’s a picture, too.”

  “Oh, my…” I slid out of bed. “Sor…” I waited for her to elaborate while I took a seat at the glass desk and waited for my laptop to boot. There was no way my eyes were awake enough to try to make sense of anything on my phone.

  “It’s from the back, apparently. It’s posted a couple places online already.”

  Now I groaned, my world feeling a little lopsided, and not because of any champagne-induced hangover.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.

  “Because I’m hoping I’m dreaming.” Seriously. I even pinched myself, to no avail. All I got was a nice, stinging pink spot on my forearm.

  “Chey, relax! You’re a mystery girl. That’s it, that’s all.”

  Why was my gut saying it was a mystery soon to be solved?

  “So, was that your first date?”

  “Sorche…” Shouldn’t she know the use of her full name meant I wasn’t in the mood for this?

  “Oh, come on, you have to fill me in. Without me, you wouldn’t even know about the supposed mystery girl.”

  “Can you send me the link?”

  The computer finally booted, and I hurriedly opened my browser.

  “Already e-mailed it over.”

  “Thank you.”

  I checked my e-mail and clicked the link, finding instead of the blurred image I’d been hoping for, a crisp, clear, and in color shot loaded onto my screen. The one saving grace was that it was us from the back, so there was no way of telling it was me. I’d forgotten he’d grabbed my hand when we’d hit the more puddle-laden part of the sidewalk. And had I really been leaning that close to him?

  Yikes.

  “Great,” I muttered, completely having forgotten I still had the cell phone pressed against my ear.

  “So?”

  “Well, the short version is Dad took me to a baseball game yesterday, and it was horrible. I’m just not into it. I give him props for trying, but we would have been better off going to the Pier or something.”

  “Hate to say it, Chey, but your dad doesn’t seem to be the Ferris Wheel-riding type.”

  I know. That was my problem. The more the summer went on, the more I kept thinking our two worlds just didn’t mesh.

  “How did you get from a baseball game to being JT’s mysterious new girlfriend?”

  “I’m getting there. Anyways, to make up for the horrible experience at the game with all these fans coming up to him for autographs and picture taking and just generally ignoring me, Dad took me out to dinner. But then, this producer guy came by the table, and before I knew it, Dad had to go off with him for an impromptu meeting. I stayed behind for dessert, Rico came over and invited me to his table. JT was there, and he walked me back to the car afterwards.”

  My abbreviated version. I figured driving me home and the kiss was on a need-to-know basis, and at the moment, Sor didn’t exactly need to know.

  “They must have snapped it then,” I continued.

  “Must have,” she agreed.

  “I didn’t even know anyone was following us,” I said as I automatically right-clicked, saving the photo to my hard drive.

  “With the lenses some photographers have, they don’t need to be right behind you anymore. Or could have just been someone on their camera phone. Some are pretty good quality even at night like that.”

  Over a moment of silence, I could hear Sorche doing something on her own computer.

  “Did you read the blurb?” she asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Just tell me,” I said, fighting with my mouse to get it to scroll up the page.

  I heard her small sigh. “Nothing big. They just call you ‘the mystery girl seen walking with JT’. And then, they try to figure out who you could be, that’s all.”

  “Great.” I leaned my forehead against my hand, tearing my gaze off the screen.

  “If you don’t want to go out tonight, we can just binge something on Netflix and hang out at your place. Sound good?”

  I stole a glance at the photo again. I really didn’t feel like going out and solving the mystery for them quite yet. “Yeah, sounds good. See you about eight?”

  “Works for me,” Sor agreed before she hung up.

  I clicked the phone off, cradling it in my hand as I stared at the screen a moment longer before moving the pointer upwards and clicking on the little red x.

  ***

  “I’m sorry about taking off last night,” Dad said the moment I stepped into the kitchen.

  “It’s fine, really. And I made it home safe and sound.”

  I headed for the fridge, craving something to eat. I should have still had some yogurt left. Java could come later; I was already wide awake courtesy of Sorche and her informative phone call.

  I desperately wanted to change the subject before he could ask about my drive home last night and I could accidentally spill the news about JT.

  “How’d the meeting go?” I asked, even though I still kinda didn’t care.

  He’d abandoned me on our father-daughter date—not so easy to get over, even if he did apologize. I grabbed the last strawberry yogurt from the fridge, closed the door with my hip, and grabbed a spoon from the drawer.

  “Good, I think. Our conversation was really promising. We met up with a couple more producers and a screenwriter they’re planning on working with over drinks.”

  “I’m glad it went so well.” I should have gotten a nice little gold statue for keeping the bitterness out of my voice with that remark.

  “What are you up to today?”

  “Sor’s coming over later. Besides that, nothing big planned.” I slipped onto my favorite stool at the counter. “Unless we have plans?”

  Okay, slightly pointed question, but after ditching me last night, maybe he’d want to make it up to me. And I could put Sor off; she’d understand.

  He set his coffee cup down.

  “No, you and Sor hang out. Enjoy yourselves. The place is yours.” He smiled like he was doing me a big favor.

  Before I could answer, Trish came in from outside, taking off her baseball cap, one that looked remarkably like the one Dad had bought himself yesterday. “’Morning, Chey.”

  “’Morning,” I replied. “So you two are working again?”

  Yeah, so not my fault if a little disdain had crept into my voice. This was my ruined summer vacation, after all.

  Trish’s face immediately turned apologetic. “He’s got a conference call in an hour. I’m just here to help him set it up.”

  “You know me, Chey. I’m terrible with technology,” Dad piped up.

  Somehow, I managed a weak smile. That wasn’t the only thing he was terrible with.

  “You guys have fun.” I unhooked my feet from where I’d wound them around the legs of the stool.

  “You, too,” Trish said, a look of understanding in her eyes that I doubt Dad even noticed.

  “I’ll just be outside.” I gathered my yogurt and a se
ction of the paper, ready to leave them alone to talk business.

  Trish shot Dad a look. “You didn’t give her the message?”

  I looked between the two of them, the paper pressed against my chest. “What message?”

  “Rico’s sending someone to pick you up this late afternoon for an hour or two,” Trish informed me.

  I stared at Dad, watching as his neck flushed red. I hoped in embarrassment. “Dad didn’t say a word.”

  “Sorry, Chey. It slipped my mind,” he said meekly.

  “Right.” I put down my barely touched yogurt, feeling the urge to get out of there before I said something I knew I’d end up regretting. “I’ll go up and change. I’ll wait outside, so you know, I don’t bother anyone.”

  Trish hurried down the hallway beside me as I stormed off.

  “I’m sure it really did slip his mind, Chey. Rico left a message on voicemail at eight this morning. No one actually talked to him…if I didn’t check the messages first thing every morning like I always do, we all could have missed it.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll throw something on and wait out back.”

  “Don’t be mad at him, okay?” she said with a pointed look towards the kitchen.

  I turned to see Dad thumbing through the paper at the counter, looking as if nothing had happened. I sighed to myself. “He’s hard to stay mad at.”

  She gave me a half-hearted smile. “Let me know what happens today. I’m so excited for you.”

  At least someone in this house was.

  I smiled at Trish and gave her a quick hug.

  “I’ll text and let you know what’s up,” I said before I headed for the stairs and my escape.

  ***

  What was it they called Romeo and Juliet? Star-crossed lovers? I was starting to think Fate was getting its kicks having me run into JT everywhere, including my own house.

  “Well, if it isn’t the ‘Face of Vanetti’,” he greeted as he walked down the stone pathway towards me in the backyard.

  I tilted my head back, rolled my eyes, and wondered why the gods were so against me. What had I ever done so wrong in my life to deserve this? I just wanted to avoid him—and the world—for a little while, not wanting to have this ‘mystery girl’ thing spiral out of control, which some part of me knew it could. And probably would, at some point.

  “Hi, JT.”

  He smiled, and the traitor deep within myself smiled back. Had he caught the bit about the mystery girl? But I figured he probably didn’t read the gossip sites.

  I grabbed a couple more magazines from the patio table and set them beside me on the lounger, needing something to fidget with since I didn’t have my cell phone handy. Of all the times to swear off my phone, but I didn’t want to read any texts or keep checking for more info on the mystery girl speculation.

  Gah.

  Why was I so nervous all of a sudden?

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Did you forget something last night?”

  That would be logical, really. I’d just have a bit of explaining to do to Dad if he did, especially if it was in his Escalade. I glanced back towards the house, but neither he nor Trish were visible. They were likely already holed up in his office, figuring out the set up for a conference call. Besides, they probably didn’t care much after they’d buzzed him through the gates. I remembered Dad being sure to mention his name with Quinn.

  “Rico told you he was sending someone over, right?”

  “Right.” When I replayed the message for myself, I’d assumed Lorna. Okay, I might have hoped Lorna, because other than her and Rico, I knew no one at House of Vanetti.

  He held his arms out.

  “Meet your chauffeur,” he informed me, his boyish grin spreading across his face, making his eyes light up

  “Funny.” I thumbed through the magazine on my lap.

  “Seriously.” He pulled his cell phone from the clip on his jeans and held it out to me. “Call if you don’t believe me.”

  I really didn’t feel like calling Rico and looking like a total naïve fool. So honestly, that was enough to convince me. “What does he want?”

  “For me to take you over there.”

  “I could drive myself.” I stood and started to pick up my magazines, ready to head in to drop them inside on the kitchen table and hopefully get rid of my new…whatever he was calling himself in the process. He wouldn’t follow me up to my room, would he?

  I snuck a look at him. Suddenly, I wouldn’t put that past him.

  “I’m sure you can. I’ve seen your car.” He smirked. “Really, today, I’m just the errand boy.”

  “What do you get out of it?”

  “More time to hang out with the next potential ‘it girl’.”

  I sighed, “Stop calling me that.”

  “You prefer mystery?”

  I stopped in my tracks and spun slowly to face him. He had an innocent look on his face, but those blue eyes of his were lighting up with laughter.

  “Funny.” I rolled my eyes.

  “What? I read, too, you know.”

  “Skimming for mentions of your name?”

  “You think I’m that shallow?”

  “I think you can be that arrogant.” He probably had Google alerts and all sorts of notifications set up, never mind picking up an actual newspaper.

  He laughed. “Point taken. But no, Rico told me about it this morning.”

  “Rico?” For the first time, I wondered if he’d set it up. After all, Rico had mentioned being all about the publicity. JT was his cousin; it all sorta added up in a bizarre way.

  And me being a mystery… Well, he could be the one to solve it.

  Guess I’d just have to wait and see what Rico had to say.

  “Fine, let’s go,” I said, dropping the magazines back on the patio table and using the edge of the tray of empty glasses to weigh them down.

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah. I was just waiting.”

  ***

  “Take your pick,” Rico said with a grand sweeping gesture as he led me and JT into what he’d deemed the storeroom. The room was edged in racks of clothes. More than I’d ever seen at Rico’s before. Mix and match. Stuff already put together. It was like something out of a warped fairytale, and I’d been picked to play Cinderella.

  And I had a feeling JT thought he’d be just perfect to play my Prince Charming.

  “There’s so much.”

  The awe in my voice could be deemed more than apparent as I started to flip through the T-shirts in the first rack, and I had to admit I was totally overwhelmed. I thought when Rico met us at the door, he wanted to go over the contracts or talk scheduling or something, not plan to clothe me for the rest of my life.

  “It’s called a storeroom for a reason,” JT cracked.

  “Ha, ha.” I picked up a bright red T-shirt with black and silver flecks across it. “I like this one.”

  “Keep going,” Rico said, looking amused from the other side of the rack. “Think summertime, Chey. Think parties. Clubs. You need more than one little T-shirt. You’re getting first dibs on what’s going into the new boutique. Don’t be so choosy.”

  The man had a point.

  I rummaged through the clothes again, this time taking a few more shirts, a pair of shorts, a tank top, a couple camis. Rico looked thrilled when he took them from me and hung them on a separate rack opposite me, and I noticed the card taped to the front said CHEY in big, bold copper letters.

  I could feel Rico and JT staring at me and knew I couldn’t go to a really late lunch with them without at least attempting to fill that barren rack with my name on it. I kept going, moving from rack to rack, trying to take at least one or two pieces from each one.

  JT moved closer, taking the hangers out of my hands and putting them with the rest I’d picked out. I didn’t want to think about how much they were going to cost, but maybe I should.

  “Rico, I think that’s enough,” I said when I looked over and saw the rack was
close to half-filled.

  “You can’t be photographed in the same outfit everywhere. That’s not what I hired you for. The more you have, the more work you’re doing.”