The Seasonaires

by Janna King

Presley stepped inside.

  “Sure, come on in.” Mac scratched his head and chuckled dryly.

  Presley scanned around the small living-kitchen area. “So, this is The Taken Aship? It’s quaint.”

  “I’d give you the five-cent tour, but this is pretty much it.” Mac motioned wide with both arms.

  “I don’t want the tour. What else you got?”

  Mac didn’t flinch. “I have some very addictive cherry pie from the Island Pie Shop.”

  Presley paused. She didn’t press. Maybe she didn’t want another answer. “Cherry. My fave.”

  “I knew it.” Mac pulled the pie from the refrigerator. He plucked two forks out of a drawer, yanked some paper towel off the roll on the counter, and brought it all to the coffee table. He and Presley sat next to each other on the floor with their backs against couch.

  “You’re forgetting something,” said Presley.

  Mac looked at her inquisitively.

  “Ice cream,” she answered.

  “That’s a crime.” Mac mock-furrowed his brow. “Ice cream on this cherry pie.” He gestured for Presley to do the honors. “This is the pure stuff.”

  “Okay,” said Presley, incredulous as she dug her fork into the pie’s golden lattice crust. She lifted a biteful of red sweetness, sliding it into her mouth. “I hate to admit it . . .” She chewed. “Ever. But you’re right.”

  She took another bite. Satisfied, Mac dug in as well.

  “You mentioned that your life might not have been the Georgia peach debutante picture you paint it to be.”

  “Did I mention that?” Presley took another bite, quickly wiping the cherry juice that dripped on her chin with the paper towel. “You can take the girl out of the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”

  With amusement, Mac watched her enjoy the pie.

  “I grew up in Baxley,” said Presley. “I was the poster child for the ongoing war on welfare. You know that hundreds of thousands of Georgia families are on welfare?”

  “I didn’t. But I’m familiar with the welfare situation.” Mac took a bite.

  “We were one of those families. I lived in a double-wide with my parents, my sister and brother, and my uncle and his two a-hole sons.” Presley placed her fork on the paper towel. “From the time I was ten, I worked my ass off so I could go to college—odd jobs, while studying every minute. That’s why this summer job is easy, as, well—” she took another bite, “—pie.”

  “Hm. I’ll bet.” Mac looked impressed.

  “See, I’m not who you think I am,” said Presley.

  “I’m not who you think I am either,” Mac replied.

  Presley looked in Mac’s eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Do you think that because you told me your story, I should tell you mine?”

  “Alrightee.” Presley rose. “Thanks for the pie.” She started for the door.

  Mac got up, wincing at his harsh words. “I’m a guy who’s trying to put one foot in front of the other.”

  “If you do that on this island, you’ll fall off.” Presley touched the wall.

  “That’s the whole point,” said Mac. “I do not want to live here forever.”

  “Then what are we doing here?” Presley dropped her hand. “You could’ve asked me to leave.”

  “We’re eating pie and getting to know each other better.” Mac stepped in close to her.

  “What if all we discover is that we’re both addicted to cherry pie?”

  “Then we go our separate ways.”

  Mac kissed her. Presley responded, putting her hand on the back of his neck and pulling him in. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  Eve stepped up to the boat. At the door, she could hear the sounds of sex. She looked into the hull’s small round window, then slid to the side, her eyes burning with rage. She pulled her smartphone from her purse, turned back to the window, and started to film. After a few moments, the wood planks on the dock rumbled. She looked around and the rumbling stopped. Eve put her phone away, ran down the dock to the VW, and drove off.

  She didn’t see that she had passed Mia on her cruiser, hidden between the shadow of a yacht and its large anchor moor. Mia glanced at the G down the street, then at the boat’s window, where Eve had stood. Torn for a long moment, she rode off on her bike, back down the dock and away from the wharf.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Lyndon sat on a tall stool at the bar in Topper’s. The restaurant’s warm but elegant decor matched the rest of The Wauwinet, with its gorgeous wood floors and exposed wood beam ceilings. Lyndon was the only customer because it was close to midnight and the hotel’s older highbrow crowd were ensconced in their rooms and asleep.

  The bartender put a scotch on the rocks in front of her. “How’s your summer going, Ms. Wyld?”

  “Brilliantly,” replied Lyndon. “How’s yours, Jeremy?”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “I’m famished.” Lyndon took a sip of her drink. “Do you happen to have any oysters left?”

  “Saved some just for you—Fanny Bay.”

  “The bee’s knees!” Lyndon clapped.

  The bartender disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Did I hear the word ‘fanny’?” said a male voice with a nasal pinch that came from doing too much cocaine. “I would recognize that fanny anywhere.”

  Lyndon took a healthier sip of her drink without turning around. Otto mounted the bar stool next to her.

  “That seat is taken.” Lyndon didn’t look at him.

  Otto rubbed his shoulder to hers. “It is, by me.”

  “Isn’t it enough to get booted once a night?” said Lyndon. “I heard about your little show at my Solstice Soiree.”

  “I wasn’t booted. I left to come find you.” Otto put his elbows on the bar, chin in his palms. “What can I say? I like your parties.”

  “Anything is better than your crack house orgies,” remarked Lyndon. “You know that went out with the grunge era.”

  Otto reached over the bar to grab a highball glass and the bottle of Macallan scotch that the bartender had left when pouring Lyndon’s drink. He poured his own.

  “Tell me you’re not staying here,” said Lyndon.

  “Oh, no. It’s too stuffy for me. I stay at the White Elephant in town. I like to be near my babies when I come in. I know you prefer to be more . . .” Otto looked up for the word. “Removed.”

  He held his glass out to Lyndon for a toast. “But I wanted to buy you a drink as thanks.”

  Lyndon side-eyed him. “Thanks for what?”

  Otto sipped. “First, for sending Maz to chat me up about my business. You know I love to talk about myself. His golf swing needs work, but he brings stellar kush.”

  The ice cube in Lyndon’s glass clinked as she put down the empty drink.

  “And second, for introducing me to Ines Paxton, your old mate.” Otto struck the “t” hard.

  Lyndon side-eyed him. “That was two years ago and I didn’t introduce you. She was doing a story on me and she thought you’d be a good source instead of the lying sack of shit you are.”

  “I said you were a skillful puppeteer.” Otto drained his drink. “All good business people are. It was a compliment not a lie.”

  Lyndon rolled her eyes.

  “I know you two have lost touch, but she’s gone from working at BBC to MTV,” said Otto. “Did you know that?”

  “No, but that sounds about right,” Lyndon sneered. “Hack.”

  Otto continued, “She wants to do a reality series about Wear National and cross promote online and over social. We all know that brick-and-mortar stores are becoming as obsolete as, well, those flats you’re wearing.” He crinkled his nose at Lyndon’s gold flats with an LW medallion flourish.

  Lyndon circled an ankle in the shoe. “My stores are doing fine. So are my online sales.”

  “Now who’s the liar?” Otto tilted his glass toward her. “You’re still too stuck in your high cast
le to join the twenty-first century. The TV show is going to follow my seasonaires here in Nantucket next summer.”

  “Your seasonaires?” Lyndon gritted her teeth at the words. “Who’s going to watch your meager band of skeezy strung-out strumpets?”

  “They’re already watching.” Otto showed Lyndon a Wear National Instagram post with two hundred thousand likes: Ruby on her knees frolicking in shallow water wearing a bikini bottom. Her breasts were strategically covered with wet sand. “I took that one,” he said proudly. “She’s like a magical sprite, isn’t she?”

  “I’d never put my charges in that position. It’s revolting.” Lyndon turned away.

  “Not according to my line’s 4.5 million followers.” Otto grinned. “I’m Entrepreneur of the Decade. Everyone everywhere wants to see what I’ll do next. Haven’t you read?”

  “No one anywhere gives two shiny shits about a wrinkled limp-cock tosser like you,” replied Lyndon.

  “I’ll admit I might personally be out of the MTV demo.” Otto poured more scotch in his glass. “But viewers will tune in to watch my young, hot, and hung seasonaires get into naughty mischief with nary of yours in sight. Is that still a word? ‘Nary.’ Is that how to use it?”

  Lyndon didn’t respond.

  The bartender brought over a plate of oysters with a cloth napkin and some silverware, including an oyster fork. “Here you go, Ms. Wyld.”

  “Those look yummy,” said Otto, eyeing the platter. “I met up with your delicious morsels at the party. They’re not as delicious as mine, but mmm—”

  Lyndon picked up her oyster fork and stabbed it into Otto’s right hand.

  “Motherfu—!” Otto laughed raucously. He pulled the fork from his skin. “You know they script everything on those reality shows, right? So maybe you can do this again.” He pointed to the blood seeping from the holes in his hand. “Everyone loves a good villain.” He knocked back his second drink. “I have a helicopter to catch back to the city. I have a meeting with Ines in the morning.”

  Otto left. Lyndon stared at the oyster fork on the bar.

  In the hotel cottage, J.P. slept naked, on his stomach. He snored lightly. The other side of the bed was empty. From behind the closed bathroom door, a toilet flushed, then water ran and turned off. Jade padded in, barefoot, in her panties. Without making a sound, she picked up J.P.’s phone and typed in the password: perch. She posted the video of her and Otto at the Summer Solstice Soiree on Instagram.

  Mia squirmed awake at the feeling of a warm body getting into bed with her.

  “I just broke every one of my rules,” said Presley, still wearing her clothes from the Solstice Soiree.

  Mia opened her eyes to see Presley’s soft smile. She touched her arm. They both closed their eyes and fell asleep.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Morning!” chimed Presley as she and Mia entered the kitchen. Grant was making Bloody Marys.

  “Hair of the dog.” He handed one to Cole, whose head was resting on his elbows at the kitchen table.

  “Not so loud,” moaned Cole. He wouldn’t look at the drink.

  Grant patted Cole on the back. “This man gave up the chance at a sister, so I got them both.”

  Mia and Cole exchanged a glance.

  Vincent snapped a photo of Grant tucking a piece of bacon from the nearby pan into the top of the bright red cocktail. “Bloody with bacon, Vinnie?”

  “I don’t eat meat. I also don’t get hangovers.”

  “I forgot that the French drink wine from the teat.” Grant sipped the drink and crunched a bite of bacon. “Mm.” He held a Bloody Mary toward Mia, but she waved it off, instead taking two bottled waters from the fridge. She placed one next to Cole.

  “Hydrate.”

  “Thanks.” Cole didn’t pick his head up.

  Mia reached past Cole to the Advil sitting next to a bowl of cherries. She winced because her body was sore from treading water in the harbor.

  “Where are Jade and J.P.?” asked Presley. She took a selfie holding the cherry bowl and Snapchatted:

  Life’s a bowl.

  “We can’t wait all day for them.” Presley applied peach lip gloss in the camera frame of her phone. “The country club brunch and trunk show starts in twenty.”

  “Pre-Bloody Bloodies,” said Grant, finishing his cocktail.

  Presley tapped his glass with the lip gloss tube. “Jade thinks she’s in a glass by herself, but she’ll find out she has no control over the consequences.” She lifted her phone and showed Mia, Cole, and Grant the video on J.P.’s Instagram of Jade in the booth with Otto.

  “J.P. didn’t come home last night,” said Cole. “I wonder if he ended up shark chum. There’s an entire subreddit, Maz Beatdowns, dedicated to Maz’s goons kicking the crap out of people at clubs, the mall, even Six Flags.”

  “Who knows if those stories are true?” said Mia. “How do you know what to believe?” Her words were pointed at Cole. She exited the house and walked toward the G. Vincent was in the driver’s seat.

  “Mia.”

  Mia turned to see Cole and stopped. Presley walked past them, smiling at Mia before being scooped up by Grant and carried to the car. She giggled.

  Cole stood with Mia. “I want to make sure we’re cool,” he said. “I got home last night and knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t because it sounds like you were pretty toasted,” replied Mia.

  “I was.” Cole kicked a pebble. “When you left to go out to the beach, you didn’t seem very happy with me. I was having a good time hanging out with you.”

  “I wasn’t really sure about that,” said Mia.

  Cole looked at her. “You should be.”

  Mia let this sink in. “Okay.”

  Cole motioned his hand between them. “So, are we—?”

  “Cool? Yes.” With Mia’s smile, Cole relaxed.

  Driving into town with Cole sitting next to her, Mia thought about the party, his breath on her neck when he came up behind her, his cheek against hers when they danced. But she moved an inch away because there was a push-pull to him that kept her off-balance.

  They arrived at The Highview Club, a bright yellow clapboard “amusement park” for the pearls-and-khakis set, with yachting, tennis, squash, croquet, and poolside drinking.

  The North Lawn was set up like an outdoor pop-up store with Lyndon Wyld clothes and a champagne brunch buffet. When the group arrived with Vincent, Jill was arranging racks. She and Cole exchanged a smile.

  “Do you need help?” Mia asked her.

  “Nope.” Jill arranged pastel socks on a table. “I’m good.”

  Presley’s eyes moved past Mia. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Jade and J.P. approached. J.P. strode ahead of Jade, looking around. “Is Lyndon here?”

  “Not yet,” said Cole.

  Jade grabbed a men’s polo shirt and shorts off a table, and handed them to J.P., since they were both wearing their clothes from the night before. She checked the size of a dress on a rack, then pulled it off the hanger.

  “What are you doing?” Jill motioned to the items. “Those aren’t free swag.”

  “I’m buying them. Relax, lover girl.” Jade handed cash to Jill, whose expression went from annoyed to perplexed.

  Jade and J.P. put on the purchases in the green-and-beige-striped changing cabanas erected for the event.

  Grant played croquet, snapping selfies until he got stung by a bee. By the time Grace arrived ten minutes later, his cheek had started to swell. Grace surveyed the scene. She rearranged some merchandise on a table where Jill was standing. “Nice job.” Their eyes locked for a beat. She crossed to Mia and Presley, who were greeting guests. “Mia, can I talk to you a moment?” She motioned for Mia to follow.

  Mia whispered to Presley. “Another wrist slap if she saw me and Ruby in Otto’s Instagram post.”

  “Hang in there, sugar.” Presley squeezed Mia’s arm as she moved off.

  Mia s
tepped up to Grace near the changing cabanas. Grace put finger to cheek. “On second thought, I think everyone should hear this.” Mia’s breath quickened as Grace motioned for Presley to gather the others. Presley came to Mia’s side, holding her hand.

  “Lyndon apologizes for not being here,” Grace said to them. “She needed to get back to New York, where the hustle happens while you loll around on Nantucket.” She chuckled. The seasonaires gave an expected laugh. “But she wanted me to make an announcement, first to you and then to our guests.”

  Mia shoved her hands in the pockets of her white jeans as if hoping to find magic dust she could toss in the air to make herself disappear.

  Grace turned to Mia. “Lyndon and I loved what you did to the dress you wore last night.”

  Mia motioned to Presley. “It was Presley’s dress, but—”

  Grace interrupted. “She gave it to you, so now, it’s yours. You made it one hundred percent yours.”

  Presley let go of Mia’s hand.

  Grace continued, “Out of all the clothes worn on the runway during the fashion show, that dress won the most attention on our social. So we decided we are going to design one exactly like it called the Mia.”

  Mia’s mouth dropped open.

  “Woot! Woot! The Miiiiahhh!” cheered Grant. His swollen cheek from the bee sting didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. Mia grinned at him. She saw Cole’s smile. Everyone clapped, though Jade’s and Presley’s applause was weak.

  “It’s already trending on Instagram.” Grace held up her smartphone.

  The seasonaires checked their phones. The Lyndon Wyld account featured Vincent’s candid shot of Mia standing, wet and serious, against the G outside the Summer Solstice Soiree.

  Stay tuned for the Mia. #modern #mermaid #BeWyld

  “C’est fantastique!” Vincent beamed at Mia, who was still speechless.

  “You may as well have been wearing my fishtail braid,” muttered Presley.

  Grace scanned the others. “Let this be a lesson to you slackers. You might think that this is the Summer of Fun, but if you want to get something out of it, you’re going to have to put more in.”