“They’re a corrupting influence,” Avery said, referring to the other members of STF. She was only half teasing.
“That’s what they say about you,” he replied, also only half teasing. He slid his fingers through her soft brown hair. He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she gazed up at him. Like I’m the only guy in the world.
She let go of him and moved to the back of the pickup and began unhooking the tarp. He got on the other side to help her. “You bring the rest of my stuff?” he asked.
“Of course.” She paused. “Where’s Lucille?”
Lucille was not a person, it was a cherry red 1975 Fender Stratocaster guitar and, Avery sometimes suspected, the closest “woman” to Curt’s heart.
“I’m going to keep her at the other house,” Curt answered. “It’s easier than hauling her back and forth.”
“Oh.” Avery averted her eyes and busied herself with the bags, but Curt knew she was disappointed. It was some dumb symbolic thing to her, like if he left his guitar with the band, then he wasn’t entirely there with her.
A nerdy-looking guy with brown hair and black-framed glasses came out of the rental house. He was wearing plaid shorts with black socks and shoes. “You two moving in?”
“Fred, this is my boyfriend, Curt,” Avery said. “Curt, this is Fred. He’s our landlord.”
Curt was surprised. While nerds often had an ageless quality, this Fred guy didn’t look much older than he was. Kind of young to own properties.
“How did you know my name?” Fred asked Avery.
She looked stunned. “I’m Avery, remember? We just met. You know, inside, when that other girl stole our room?”
“Someone else got our room?” Curt asked with a frown.
“Oh, uh, I’m really sorry about that,” Fred said sheepishly. “Like I said, I’ll refund the difference in rent to you, and I’ll be glad to show you the other rooms right now.”
Curt bristled. Half the reason he’d agreed to stay here instead of with the band was that Avery had told him she’d found a really nice room for them. “You mean someone else snagged our room and you didn’t do anything about it?”
“I tried,” Avery mumbled.
Curt knew Avery wasn’t real big about asserting herself, but given what a wimp this Fred nerd was, he thought he could take advantage of the situation. Curt narrowed his eyes menacingly at the landlord. “We paid for that room in advance. You had no right to give it away.”
“Look, I said I’m sorry and I’ll refund the difference,” Fred answered uncomfortably. “I’ll let you have the next best room.”
“I think you’ll have to do better than that,” Curt said with just a hint of a threat in his voice.
“I . . . I don’t understand what you mean . . . ,” Fred stammered.
“Think about it,” Curt said.
“Oh, well, I guess I could give you a discount on the other room,” Fred said.
Curt smiled. “There you go.”
“Let me show you what I’ve got.” Fred turned and led them into the house. Curt grabbed a couple of bags from the back of the pickup, and he and Avery followed.
“I still think we should bag this whole thing and stay with the band,” Curt muttered to Avery as they entered the house.
“I want us to have more privacy,” Avery replied.
“Privacy?” Curt scoffed. “In a house full of strangers, that’s a good one.”
She turned scarlet but didn’t say anything. Curt sighed. The whole situation was lame.
Inside they followed Fred up the staircase to the second-floor landing. Suddenly a hot-looking blonde came out of the room at the end of the hall, wearing a pink bikini top and pastel green shorts. Curt felt his eyes bulge. She was gorgeous and had a killer bod, top and bottom. If she was one of his roommates, he suddenly had a whole new reason for staying here. The blonde smiled warmly at Fred, then flounced past them on her way to the stairs. When she passed Curt, he caught a whiff of perfume that had to be expensive. Even better, she brushed against him in a way that let him know she had done it on purpose. As she passed, he couldn’t help imagining what she’d look like with less clothing.
“Was that the big bedroom she came out of?” Curt asked after the blonde had passed.
“Yes,” Fred said, sounding miserable.
“I want to see it,” Curt said.
“Why?” Fred asked.
“So I know I’m really getting a discount on the piece of crap room we wind up with.”
Fred’s shoulders sagged. “Uh, sure.”
Curt smiled. He was gonna talk this wimp down until they got a room almost for free. But when they reached the door of the big bedroom, they discovered that it was locked.
“You’ve got a spare key, right?” Curt said.
“Uh, no, I don’t,” Fred said, shrugging and looking embarrassed.
Curt rolled his eyes. What kind of landlord didn’t keep spare keys? This guy Fred was a joke.
“Here, this room is the next largest,” Fred said, hastening to open another door on the landing. This room wasn’t much larger than Curt’s bedroom at home, with only a double bed and a small dresser. The walls were drab, and the carpet was worn in spots. On the other hand, it was clean and it smelled okay, which was a major improvement over the rooms in the house where the other members of STF were staying.
“How much is it?” Curt asked.
“Eighteen hundred for the summer,” Fred said.
Curt narrowed his eyes. “So what are you gonna do for us?”
Fred started to squirm, and a line of sweat formed on his upper lip. “I . . . I could give it to you for, say, fourteen hundred.”
“That’s not good enough,” Curt said. “You broke your promise, remember?”
Fred swallowed. “Twelve hundred?”
Curt shook his head. It almost wasn’t about the money. It was about making this guy pay for not upholding his half of the deal. Now it was a challenge to watch this guy squirm and see how low he would go.
“A thousand?” Fred asked.
“Still not good enough,” Curt growled even though inside he was laughing. At this rate they would get the room for nothing.
“No,” Avery interrupted. “A thousand is fine. That’s a very fair price, and we appreciate it.”
Fred sighed with relief, but Curt was annoyed with Avery.
“Well, good, I’m glad we settled that,” Fred said, handing them a key to the room. “Just promise me you won’t tell any of the other renters, okay? This is our secret.”
Curt and Avery went back downstairs and out to the pickup to bring in the rest of their gear.
“Why’d you do that?” Curt asked. “I probably could have gotten him down to nothing.”
“It wasn’t fair,” Avery said. “He’s trying to run a business, not a charity.”
“Well, it wasn’t fair of him to give away our room,” Curt argued.
“He made a mistake,” Avery said. “That doesn’t mean you have to crucify him. Let’s have a good summer, Curt, please? It’s about having fun, not winning every battle.”
Typical Avery, Curt thought. Always running from a fight. Never standing up for what she deserved. “You can’t let people step all over you,” he shot back.
“What are you talking about?” Avery asked. “He didn’t step all over me. We got that other room for a bargain, and you know it.”
With the last of the gear, Curt followed her into the house and up the stairs. In their new room, he dumped the stuff on their bed. “You’ll put everything away?” he asked.
Avery looked up, surprised. “What?”
Curt broke into a smile. “Just kidding.” He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he breathed in her sweet scent. “I figured if you let Fred take advantage of you, you’d let me, too.” It had been nearly a week since he’d held her this close and he could feel the growing desire mute any lingering annoyance he felt toward her for
letting the blonde get their room.
Avery kissed him, but when his hands began to wander, she pulled back. “You can take advantage of me later,” she whispered. “In ways that Fred will never know. But for now, help me unpack.”
They started opening bags and putting things away. Even though he’d just as soon live out of a suitcase for the summer, Curt knew Avery enjoyed doing stuff like this. To him it was a little like playing house, but if she got a bang out of it, he was glad to oblige . . . up to a point. After a while other concerns began to nag him. The band wasn’t ready. Their songs weren’t ready. Shouldn’t he be spending his time and energy on that?
“I better get back over there, Ave,” he said. “The band’s still got a long way to go and we should be rehearsing.”
“Oh, okay.” Avery hung her head, clearly disappointed.
“Hey, I’ll be back later.” Curt took her in his arms. “And if you’re a good girl, I might just let you take advantage of me.”
She smiled. “You should be so lucky.”
“No, you should be so lucky.” He kissed her hard and held her tightly, knowing she liked it when he lingered.
Soon enough, he left the room and headed back down the stairs. He was just going out the front door when a girl came up pulling a heavy black suitcase on wheels. She had reddish, neatly bobbed hair and was wearing a baggy pink polo shirt with pleated khaki shorts. She looked like the kind of preppy girl who’d be class secretary.
“Excuse me,” she panted. “You wouldn’t know if the bathrooms are working, would you?”
“What?” Curt said, taken by surprise.
“I was warned that plumbing on this street can be kind of a problem. My cousin said she once rented a room in number twelve and they had to use a Porta Potti for half the summer.”
“No kidding?” Curt said.
“So, can you tell me if they’re working,” the preppy girl said. “And if they’re not, when they might be?”
“How should I know?” he asked, trying to figure out what was up with her.
“Aren’t you”—she gave him a once-over, taking in his clothes—“like, a workman or . . . something?”
Now Curt understood. “No, I happen to be moving in here,” he answered indignantly.
The girl raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize . . . wait, you’re living here this summer?”
“Yeah, and your point is?” Curt replied. She was starting to annoy him.
“It’s just that, so am I,” she said, her brown eyes wide. “We’re roomies!”
“Well, hey, that’s just fabulous,” he said, with feigned excitement. Unlike the hot blonde, this one was nothing to get excited about.
“Yeah, hi!” she answered even more excitedly. “Listen, I’m Polly.” She offered her hand.
“And I’m Curt.” He shook it.
“Look, I’m really sorry about what I said before,” Polly gushed. “I just . . . well . . . the truth is, I have this way of putting my foot in my mouth.”
No kidding, Curt thought.
“I mean, I do it all the time,” Polly went on. “It’s really best not to pay any attention to me.”
Can’t say I was planning to, Curt thought.
“Just ignore me and I’ll go away,” Polly said. “Also, another thing is, when I get nervous, I talk too much, you know?”
“I’m kind of figuring that out,” Curt said. It was not unusual for girls to become nervous around him. And while this one definitely had the potential to be annoying, he couldn’t help enjoying the idea that he had the looks that provoked it.
“Well . . .” Polly bit her lip, “I guess I’ll go inside and see if the toilet’s working, you know? So, uh, see you around, roomie.”
He went past her and out to the street. Roomie? He was pretty certain no one had ever called him that before. Could he really spend an entire summer sharing a house with someone like that? She’d probably have them all singing “Kumbaya” around the campfire if she had her way.
He started for the band’s house, but found his thoughts drifting back to number 15 and that hot blond babe who’d brushed against him. The good news was that he’d probably be seeing plenty of her around the house. And that was something to look forward to.
Polly brushed off the encounter with the moody but great-looking guy. It bothered her when she got nervous and began to blather, but this was the first day of summer and she wasn’t about to let him or anyone else spoil it. She was frightened and excited the way someone feels just before they do something wonderful and unexpected, and scary. That’s what this whole summer was going to be. She had never lived away from home before. Even after her freshman year of college she’d still commuted from her parents’ house nearby. This summer that was going to change. She had made up her mind. She was going to do something on her own, and it was going to be wild and crazy. She entered the house. There were three doors off the living room, and the closest one to the stairs was a bathroom.
Polly went in and checked it out. The walls were painted white to match the tile. On the far wall there was a white shower curtain pulled across a combination shower-tub. Most importantly, the toilet flushed! Delighted that the plumbing worked, Polly was checking her hair and lipstick in the mirror when she heard voices. She came out to find a nerdy-looking guy with thick black glasses coming down the stairs. He was dressed in a white V-necked T-shirt, and green plaid shorts, with black socks and shoes. Oh, please don’t be one of my roommates, Polly thought. All she wanted was one cute guy in the house. The tall, handsome guy had been too good-looking (a girl had to be realistic, she told herself), and this one seemed too far on the other end of the spectrum. What are the chances of meeting Mr. Perfect? Her summer plans involved a guy, but not just any guy; it had to be the right guy.
“Uh, hi.” The nerdy guy seemed puzzled to find her coming out of the bathroom.
“Hi, I’m Polly Prentice,” she introduced herself. “I’m renting a room here this summer?”
“Oh, yes,” the guy said. “I’ve been expecting you. I’m Fred, your landlord.”
“Oh, that’s . . . er . . . very nice,” Polly said, relieved that he wasn’t one of her new roommates.
“Let me show you your room,” Fred said. “It’s down here.”
Polly had one of the two downstairs bedrooms with entrances off the living room. The good news was that it was right next to the bathroom. She paused on the threshold of her room and took it in. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t a cracker box either. The important thing was that it was all hers. There was a nice double bed with a white comforter and fluffy-looking pillows. A window looked out right onto the next street over. Not exactly ocean view, but, hey, at least the ocean was nearby. She smiled. It was a perfect blank slate, and she was going to have a great time making it hers.
“So what do you think?” Fred asked behind her.
“Could I do a little decorating?” she asked. “Like maybe some shells from the beach? I could use the bigger ones to hold things like my jewelry and makeup. And stick the smaller shells around my mirror—”
“No glue on the walls!” Fred interrupted, sounding aghast.
“Oh, of course not,” Polly quickly agreed. “I’ll stick them with putty. By the way, was that a Wi-Fi router I saw by the cable box?”
Suddenly Fred brightened. “You bet. I just installed it,” he announced proudly.
“Great!” Polly gushed. “I brought my laptop. This is going to be so much fun!”
They smiled at each other. But then the silence became awkward. Polly had the oddest feeling. Fred might not have been the best-looking guy around, but they shared some sort of connection. “Uh-oh. I’m going to start babbling,” Polly warned him. “When I’m nervous, I tend to talk too much. Everything that’s inside comes tumbling out. Some people say I overshare, but I just think I communicate well.”
“Hey, I’m all ears,” Fred said eagerly. “Babble away.”
She gl
anced at Fred under her eyelashes and tried to make her next question sound casual. “So, how many guys will be living here this summer?”
“Three. And four girls, including you.”
“Are . . . you going to be living here?” she asked.
“No,” he said, then added, “but I’ll probably be around a lot. You know, fixing stuff.”
Polly quickly did the math. There were still two male roommates left. Always good to keep your options open, she thought as she went outside to retrieve her luggage from her car. A little while later, back in her room, she began to unpack, hanging up a few sundresses and putting everything else into drawers. She wondered for a moment what to do with her toiletries. Given that her bathroom was downstairs and liable to be used by everybody, she decided it was safer to leave her little bag in her room.
Satisfied, she left the room, hoping to meet some of her other roommates. A pretty girl with long brown hair was coming down the stairs. Polly admired the way the other girl’s hair just seemed to float about her when she moved, and wished that she could get her own red hair to do something as nice. “Hi! I’m Polly,” she said. “Are you one of the summer renters?”
“Yes.” The other girl smiled and offered her hand. “Avery,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
Polly was relieved by the other girl’s friendly warmth. “So have you met any of the others?”
“Well, sort of,” Avery answered. “Just first impressions, you know?”
“Oh, do I.” Polly dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I just met this guy outside, dressed all in black. Good-looking, but kind of moody. And weird—I mean, who wears a long-sleeved black T-shirt at the beach?”
The girl named Avery smiled painfully. “That would be my boyfriend, Curt.”
Polly lost her breath. Oh, no! Foot in mouth again! “I am so sorry!” she gasped. “Sometimes I just don’t know what I’m saying. Like you said, first impressions, right? Of course I’m sure he’s a wonderful guy. And since you two just got here, he wouldn’t have had time to change into his beach clothes.”
“Actually those are his beach clothes,” Avery said, still smiling.
“All right, then just shoot me.” Polly felt a wave of humiliation wash through her.
The Shore Page 2