Making Waves

by Nicole Leigh Shepherd

  I stop myself from asking, On what planet is money trivial? Instead, I ask, “So what if I don’t know the members’ names?”

  “You will,” Lilly replies with a shrug.

  “Ahem, a little help please,” Stacey calls out, using the exact same phrasing and tone that Lilly just used with me. She places her iPad inside an Hermès canvas beach bag while balancing her omelet and mimosa. “I’m heading to my cabana.”

  “Of course, of course,” Lilly answers, rushing around the counter. “I wish you’d asked before you went through the trouble of packing everything up.”

  “I know, I know. My husband always tells me that I need to stop trying to do everything myself.”

  Lilly smiles and I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve now spent a few minutes with the woman or because of what Stacey just said, but this time the gesture seems to be without a hint of sincerity.

  “Uh, wait!” I call out to her.

  “Yes?” Lilly turns to me, her eyes narrowing even further.

  “What should I do while you’re gone?” I ask.

  Lilly’s nostrils flare. “You’ll be okay. It’s still early. The snack bar won’t get crowded for another hour. And besides”—Lilly eyes me up and down as if assessing if I’m worthy—“you’ll be here without me a lot this summer.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. Great. Even when I worked the local ice cream stand, they trained me for a week before they let me serve without supervision.

  I look around the snack bar, attempting to figure out what to do next. I take in the aromas coming from the kitchen and glance down at the glass cabinets to admire the desserts on display—strawberry yogurt parfait, sorbet, gelato, apple torte, cupcake trio. My admiration gets a little out of hand, though, and it’s not long before I’m so consumed with imagining how delicious the desserts would taste that when Jason calls out, “Hey!” I jump back in surprise. I place my hand over my chest to slow my racing heart.

  “Didn’t mean to freak you out.” Jason says, showing off his dimples as he smiles. He’s made his way to my side of the counter.

  “Sorry … I’m a little jumpy today.” I tuck my hands into my apron pocket. Feeling awkward, I pull them out, opting to place them on top of the bar instead.

  “Hi,” he says. “I’m Jason.” He grabs a can of soda from the fridge and cracks it open.

  “I know who you are,” I reply.

  “Are you sure? Because you’re acting like you’re afraid I might pounce.” He does a little hyena impression.

  “Yeah, well, you caught me off guard. A few t—uh …” I’m distracted by Jason’s motioning to the soda.

  “Want one?” he asks.

  “Are you planning on paying for it?”

  “Nah, I don’t really pay for things here. Figure it’s not hurting anyone.”

  I think back to the little girls who told me to put their breakfasts on their accounts. Their parents’ accounts, I now realize. “No thanks.” I shrug.

  “Okay, sorry Miss I-Don’t-Break-the-Rules.”

  “Don’t call me that. You don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I might just not be thirsty right now.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know your name. Let’s start from the beginning. And let’s do it right this time. I’m Jason and you are?” Jason puts out his hand.

  “Abby.”

  “Nice to meet you Abby,” he says, shaking my hand. “And do you have a last name?”

  “Berkeley.”

  “Ooh, like the college. I hope you’re not one of those girls.”

  “Those girls?” I ask, watching him stop to take a swig of soda.

  “Girls who have their names on the sides of university buildings.”

  “Do you think one of those girls would be working the snack bar?” I place my hands on my hips and look around—hopefully casually—to see if there’s anything that needs doing. I would hate to have Lilly come back to find that I let my duties slip my first day on the job.

  “I was just checking. But fair point.” Jason pauses, trying to see what I’m looking at. When he realizes that I’m just casing the joint, he turns back to his own section. Mr. Murphy is still sitting there in his crumpled suit, his BlackBerry now forgotten on the counter, but other than that, Jason has no other customers. He takes that as his cue to continue our conversation. “So, Abby Berkeley, what’s your story?”

  “My story?”

  “Yeah, how’d you end up at the Sunset Snack Bar?”

  “It’s a condition of my being a lifeguard here. Since I’m not a member.”

  “Aha! That explains it.”

  “That explains what?”

  “That explains why you walked in with a lifeguard bag, but you’re working at the snack bar. Members would never stoop to serving people their waffle fries and a Coke, and non-members aren’t allowed to guard here.”

  “Does everyone know about that stupid rule?”

  Jason laughs to himself. “I’m told that nothing stays a secret for long at the Beachwood Country Club.”

  “You’re told?”

  “Some people are more concerned with secrets here than others. Me, I don’t really pay attention.”

  “That must be liberating.”

  Jason chuckles, this time more genuinely. “You know, you’re funny, Abby Berkeley.”

  “I try.”

  “So you must be a really good swimmer for the higher-ups to have bent the rule.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Yesterday morning I would have agreed with Jason outright. But after hearing how Brody vouched for me, I’m not so sure. “But I don’t think I’m the world’s greatest snack girl.”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “One, I’m standing here talking to you instead of working—and it’s only my first day. And two, Lilly didn’t really seem to like me.”

  “Lilly doesn’t like anyone.”

  “She seemed to like my best friend Zoe just fine.”

  “Did she now? And is your best friend Zoe a club member?”

  “Yeah …” I look over at her dad. He seems to be wobbling a bit on his chair.

  “Well, does that tell you anything?”

  “Cynical much?”

  “I just call it like I see it.”

  “So where are you from that you learned to be so candid?”

  “Glendale,” he says. “I’m going to be a junior at UCLA.”

  “Nice,” I say. “And how did you come to work here during the summer?”

  “Well, my buddy from school hooked me up with the snack bar job two years ago. And I actually wasn’t planning on coming back here until I got the official upgrade from snack bar attendant to bartender.” He sarcastically pumps his fist. Then he looks over his shoulder and leans closer to me. “It’s not the bar in the lobby, but I’ll still bring home some pretty good tips.”

  “I bet,” I say, glancing at the two girls from earlier as they get up from their table. “So how did you snag the promotion?”

  “Actually, I’m kind of shocked that they gave me the job. Bartending positions are usually saved for the club’s own just in case some delinquent kid wants to work to pass the time.” He shrugs.

  “Really?” I wonder what my dad would say to that.

  “You’re still new to all this …. You’ll see.”

  “So …uh, what is college like?” I ask. I’ve had enough Beachwood bashing for one day.

  “College is a blast.” Jason smirks, giving off a devilish grin.

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, I look down at the bar and count the navy granite swirls.

  “I really shouldn’t complain. It’s actually a good gig to work at the club,” Jason says, probably more for my benefit than his.

  I look up, deciding to take him at his word. “I feel so lucky to have landed the job. It’s such a great opportunity, especially because it allows me to participate in the Last Blast scholarship competition at t
he end of the summer. And I …”

  “Whoa. Slow down there, Employee of the Month.” Jason peeks over his shoulder. “That’s a lot of enthusiasm for the snack bar.”

  “Well … I …” My face flushes. “I’m just excited to be working here on the beach with my friends. Last summer, I worked at an ice cream parlor down the street from my house.” I lean over the counter to stress the most important detail: “An ice cream parlor that had no air conditioning.”

  “And you’re going to wish you were back there, sweating your butt off, by the end of this summer.” Jason drums his knuckles on the counter.

  I begin to nervously straighten the seashell salt and pepper shakers. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to freak you out, but you know, the members here are a little different …” He pauses and looks around again. “From you and me, that is.”

  “You sound like my dad. But so far it’s good. I mean, my friends love it here.”

  “Of course they do. They’re members.” Jason stands up from the stool. “I just hope you have thick skin.”

  “I go to school with a whole bunch of the same girls. Sure, they can be a little over the top sometimes, but really, it’s—”

  “You’ll see,” Jason says, cutting me off. He walks over to Zoe’s father, helping him out of his stool and handing him his BlackBerry. They head inside to the club lobby.

  Ugh, I think. I hope Zoe doesn’t run into her father in his condition.

  I clean up the empty plates the two girls left behind and am filled with rage as I head back to the dishwasher. I don’t care what Jason says. Or that my father would agree with him. Or even that Brody had a hand in my being here. There’s a lifeguarding competition to be won, and I will not stoop to their level.

  Chapter Eight

  “Abby!” Kylie Collins, my teammate from school, shouts as I’m recovering from my convo with Jason.

  Behind her, Missy, Kylie’s best friend and fellow senior, sashays toward me.

  Zoe trails close behind, looking mortified. Next to her are Taylor and Amber, my basketball and softball teammates, respectively, who seem to have come for moral support. They never talked much at school, so I guess life at the club has made them fast friends.

  When Kylie reaches the snack bar, she drops her caramel Frappuccino and practically lunges across the counter. “I want all the deets,” she says, grabbing the top of my apron.

  “Zoe Murphy, you have a big mouth,” I say to my best friend as she trudges over.

  Brody must seriously be the prince of this place. This is the first time that Kylie’s shown any actual interest in my life other than as simply her boyfriend’s sister’s best friend. I try to tell Zoe as much with my mind waves, but I’m not sure the message really makes it over.

  Missy shoves in front of her, almost knocking over Kylie’s half-finished drink. Her bleached blonde hair is piled high in a loose bun. “So, did you and Brody do the nasty yet?”

  “That boy is soooo cute …” Taylor whispers conspiratorially to Amber.

  “I heard that,” I grunt in their general direction.

  Amber chimes in. “He’s really such a sweetie.” She climbs onto a stool next to Missy.

  “Abby already knows how sweet Brody is. From what Zoe tells me, she already jumped his bones a month ago.” Kylie elbows Zoe.

  “You did not,” I monotone to Zoe.

  “Not quite—”

  Kylie interrupts her. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so modest,” she says to me.

  “Yeah, we heard about how he gave you the kiss to end all kisses.” Missy winks.

  Taylor and Amber giggle.

  At this point, all four of them are sitting on stools, so it’s easy to give them all a single brush-off. “Let me set the record straight. Yes, Brody and I kissed. Yes, it was wonderful. No, I did not know that he belonged to the club. No, I’m not dating him now. And no, I do not plan on dating him in the future.”

  The four of them burst out laughing. Taylor places her hand over her mouth to try to shield me from the hysterics. Zoe looks guilty, but that doesn’t stop her laughter from coming on just as strong. Missy and Kylie, meanwhile, practically double over.

  “And don’t you dare start spreading rumors about me at this club!” I add. The last thing I need is for my brief romantic episode—one of a whopping two in my life, if you count Nick—to get back to Denise.

  “Okay, okay, we get it,” Kylie says. “Our lips are sealed. But let’s just say that we won’t be surprised if you come to think otherwise by the end of the summer.”

  The other girls nod sagely.

  “Ugh,” I exclaim. Then I turn to Amber. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you usually spend your summers traveling with your Amateur Softball Association team.”

  “On a break from ASA today. Tournament this weekend.” Amber elbows Kylie. “Right, Ky?”

  Kylie surprises me by grinning widely, as if her greatest dream in life was to be a utility player on the team for which Amber was pitching. “Yup. I’m playing second for Amber’s team this summer.” Kylie’s move from pitcher to second base was a whole big to-do this past season. And it was only made possible by yours truly getting injured.

  “But I’m here now!” Kylie adds, interrupting my train of thought. She moves her Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “I still can’t believe your dad let you keep your membership,” Missy says to Kylie. “Isn’t that what all those people outside are protesting? How the club is, like, a nature killer or something?”

  The girls’ eyes fix on me as if they expect the token scholarship student to have the answer. “Yeah,” I stammer. “That’s part of it.”

  “Huh,” says Taylor. “So, Kylie, how’d you convince him?” She swivels in her stool, trying to find a place for her long legs.

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s only for this year.” Kylie rolls her eyes. “My dad hates the club.” Apparently, Kylie and I actually have something in common. “The membership was just his way of apologizing for making me live in the Murphy’s guesthouse for all those months.”

  “Well, now that you’re here, can I interest you in any of our fine delicacies?” I motion to the dessert cabinet as if I’m Vanna White.

  “I’ll have a cupcake, please,” Zoe pipes up.

  “Coming right up!” I say overenthusiastically. I make a big production out of how I’m the greatest snack bar attendant of all time until I realize I have no idea how to open the glass case. First I try to slide it open. That doesn’t work. Then I attempt to wiggle it. That doesn’t work either.

  “Let me try,” Zoe jumps off the stool—her legs are too short to reach the ground—and walks around to meet me at the back of the counter. She attempts to open the case.

  Nothing.

  “It’s tricky.” A hand reaches around us. Jason unhooks the latch at the bottom and slides it open. When I look up to say thanks, he’s already walking back to the bar.

  Kylie eyes Jason like he’s Robert Pattinson come to whisk her away to Forks. “Is that the guy who worked at the snack bar last year?” she asks, pointing. “He’s hot!”

  My friends watch Jason as he hangs sparkling stemmed glasses over the bar while chatting with an older guy in swim trunks and a tank top who’s just stopped by.

  “Yeah. He’s the bartender now.”

  “Obviously,” Kylie says.

  “Is he a college boy?” Taylor asks.

  “Yeah, UCLA.” I reach inside the glass case and pull out Zoe’s favorite—a vanilla cupcake with white frosting.

  “Oooh, good school. I’ve been searching for someone to keep me busy this summer,” Missy says, licking her lips.

  Kylie elbows her. “I call the bartender.” I find myself wondering if Kylie cares that Jason attends what used to be her dream school.

  “He’s mine. That boy is a two-for,” Missy adds, twirling a piece of bright blonde hair around her index finger.

  “A two-f
or?” I ask, my voice high-pitched. I cringe thinking about how Lexi called me the very same name just yesterday.

  “He’s hot and he can get me drinks.” Missy clicks her tongue.

  My skin crawls as I set up Zoe’s cupcake on a napkin. No one notices.

  “Love it when a guy is good for something.” Kylie raises her eyebrows. She points to Zoe’s cupcake. “Abs, can you also throw one my way?”

  “And what about Andrew?” Taylor asks, ever the voice of reason. “Weren’t you guys seeing each other?”

  Missy flicks her wrist like she’s shooing a fly. “Andrew. Schmandrew. It’s summer. And I like to keep my options open.”

  I lower my voice to a whisper. “Before you two fight over Jason, I don’t know if he was just having an off day today, but he seems like he’s kind of a downer.”

  “Then he’s definitely Kylie’s,” Amber adds. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she looks shocked that she said them. I don’t know how it happened, but Amber is clearly feeling more comfortable around Kylie than she used to.

  I brace for Kylie’s reaction—which I expect to come with the fury of a tornado—but then Missy cuts in, grinning mischievously. “Oh yeah, Kylie loves jerks. Her ex-boyfriend was their unofficial king.”

  With that, the situation—if there ever was one—diffuses immediately. Kylie tosses a balled-up napkin at Missy and the girls giggle. Then Kylie turns her attention to Zoe. “Sorry Zo,” she says, reaching out to her. The jerk in question is, of course, Zach, Zoe’s older brother.

  “No worries. I know he can be pretty awful.” Zoe shudders, then attempts to play it off. “Why do you think I’m drowning my family sorrows in a cupcake?” She takes a giant bite. “Speaking of which,” she says, “I thought Kylie asked for one too …. Let’s get some cupcakes for everyone!”

  I lean back into the case, a little peeved that my best friend managed to turn her being pitied into me looking like the help. That’s when I hear the sound of little feet approaching.

  “Zoe!” A little girl in pink Nike shorts and matching Crocs runs toward us. She hugs Zoe’s waist. “I missed you.”