A door on the second floor opened and closed, and they all glanced toward the second-floor landing. A very attractive blonde, wearing tight jeans and a black wraparound shirt, started down the stairs, eyes squinting and hand pressed to her left temple. Seriously hung over, Lucas thought, suppressing a smile. She is the one I ran into early this morning wrapped in a blanket in the hallway. Without a word to the others, she entered the kitchen and poured herself some coffee.
She took several long sips before she acknowledged the rest of them. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Lucas could see that despite the hangover she carried herself with poise and self-assuredness. The airs of a good upbringing. She was from money, and she had no intention of letting any of the rest of them forget it. He’d been surrounded by girls like her all his life; had even dated a few at boarding school. He sighed to himself. If he followed the path his parents were insisting on, he’d be surrounded by them for the next four years.
Despite three Advils and the two cups of coffee, Sabrina’s head was still pounding like a drum. She was glad Owen wasn’t up yet. She had peeked out of her door to make sure before she came downstairs. She wasn’t ready to face him, certainly not when her head hurt and her stomach was lurching at random intervals.
“Has everyone met Sabrina?” Avery asked.
“We have now,” said a girl dressed in black with heavily mascaraed eyes.
“And you are?” Sabrina asked her.
“April.”
“I’m Polly,” the red-haired girl with the lame clothes said, a little too cheerfully.
“Delighted,” Sabrina replied drolly.
“And I’m Curt,” said the good-looking guy with the wild black hair. “I’m the one you snaked the big bedroom from.”
“I didn’t snake a bedroom from anyone,” Sabrina replied. “I saw one I liked and asked Fred if I could have it. If you have a problem with that, you should take it up with him.”
“That’s all been settled,” Avery said. “Come on, Curt, you know what I’m talking about.”
Curt made a face, but said nothing more. Sabrina was used to men undressing her with their eyes, but this one took it to a whole new level. If he tried any harder, he’d be seeing straight through her. And it wasn’t like she was looking her best this morning either.
“Um, Sabrina, if I could talk to you later in private . . . ,” Polly started, and then drifted off.
“Why?” Sabrina asked.
“It’s about some clothes,” Polly said.
Oh . . . Sabrina smiled to herself. Fashion advice. I should have guessed.
“Burn everything you own, starting with that.” In her hung-over state, Sabrina didn’t realize she had actually spoken her thoughts out loud until everyone started staring at her.
Polly’s face hardened a little. “It’s not about my clothes. It’s about yours.”
“Mine?” Sabrina didn’t follow.
“From last night,” Polly explained. “I have them.”
Sabrina’s stomach suddenly heaved, and for a moment she thought she might throw up. She could see the others turning away or covering their mouths with their hands, all except Curt, who openly grinned at her. They’re all laughing at me!
“How?” Sabrina asked, instantly flushing.
“They were all over the stairs,” Polly said. “I thought you’d appreciate it if I picked them up.”
Sabrina felt her heart plummet. It was all over. Everyone must have known about her and Owen. It was her worst nightmare. Not only being with Owen, but not even being subtle about it. My clothes all over the stairs? The image made her cringe.
“I can get them . . .” Polly trailed off, clearly unsure what else to say. Lucas and Avery had averted their eyes. April and Curt were still smirking.
Sabrina glared at them. “Just forget it, okay? It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?” Curt asked archly.
Sabrina wanted to kill him. Amazingly, Polly came to the rescue. “Hey! Now that we’re all here, wouldn’t this be the perfect time to discuss house rules?”
“We’re not all here,” Curt said dryly, casting a knowing leer at Sabrina, who felt her face color.
“Six out of seven is almost everyone,” Polly said, and turned to Sabrina. “You could fill Owen in later.”
Sabrina wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream, or strangle someone. Not only had last night been a huge mistake, but now they all assumed she and Owen were a couple. She felt like shouting that there was no way she was talking to Owen later about anything, ever.
Polly continued: “Some of us have already worked out a plan for the refrigerator. Everyone gets half a shelf for personal food, and communal food goes in the door.”
“Avery and I have the top shelf,” Curt announced.
“I think we need a schedule for chores,” Polly continued. “How we’re going to shop for communal food and supplies, party etiquette, and noise levels.”
Did she really just say “etiquette”? Sabrina thought.
Curt lit up a cigarette, and April shot him a look that seemed to say, “Don’t you ever stop?”
“He usually doesn’t smoke this much,” Avery said. Sabrina could tell she was the perceptive type.
“I think there should be a no smoking in the house policy,” said April.
“Good,” Polly said. “I agree with that.”
“Yawn. Don’t care,” Sabrina said. It wasn’t like she planned to spend much time in this house, anyway.
“I’d have to vote for smoking outside too,” Lucas added.
“But what about . . . ?” Polly trailed off.
“What about what?” Lucas asked.
“Well . . . the bong,” Polly said, her face coloring slightly.
“Oh, you see, it’s an outdoor bong,” Lucas said. Sabrina smiled. So this one has a sense of humor. The others looked puzzled, except Avery, who also smiled. Sabrina paid careful attention when Lucas winked at Avery.
They were suddenly interrupted by a loud, cheerful voice. “Whoa! Democracy in action!”
Everyone jumped. Owen, smiling, hair glistening from a shower, had caught them all by surprise. Everyone turned to him so quickly, it was like a spotlight had just come on. “Whoa, peeps, eyes back in your heads, please. Well, except for those who really want to stare,” he said, paying particular attention to Sabrina.
The eyes now left Owen and focused on Sabrina, who groaned inwardly. If she was going to have to spend the rest of the summer associated with this idiot, she’d pack her bags and leave right now.
There was nothing Owen enjoyed more than a big entrance with all eyes on him. Even better, he could tell from their reactions that word of his previous night’s conquest had already spread near and far. While the Avery chick was definitely pretty, there was no doubt in his mind that hot-body Sabrina was the prize catch of the house. And he’d succeeded on his very first night. Life couldn’t get better than this.
“So what are we voting on?” Owen asked.
“Whether or not to allow smoking in the house,” Polly answered. “We’re up to Avery.”
All eyes turned toward Avery. Owen had been there last night when Curt and Martin almost went at it, so he knew Curt was Avery’s boyfriend. This vote meant that she was basically being asked to vote for or against her boyfriend.
“For the sake of the others in the house, I say keep it outside,” Avery said.
“Gee, thanks,” Curt grumbled.
“I’m not saying you can’t smoke,” Avery said. “Just not in the house.”
In the meantime, Owen found himself sneaking a peak at Sabrina. Despite the humiliation she was facing, she held her head high and proud and he couldn’t help admiring her for that. No wait, what am I thinking? After the way she acted this morning, I can’t believe I’d admire her for anything!
To get his thoughts away from Sabrina, Owen looked at the one girl in the room he hadn’t met. The one dressed in black. “Hey, where you been hid
ing?” he asked.
April held her hand up to him, palm facing his direction, as if saying, “Don’t even try to go there,” and didn’t utter a word. Owen took the rebuff and was annoyed to see Sabrina looking so smug.
“So, Owen, what do you think about smoking?” Polly asked him.
A lot of Owen’s friends smoked, and he had no problem with it. Actually, the idea of setting up nonsmoking rules in the house seemed like a bummer. Who wanted to party when you couldn’t smoke? And if he agreed to ban smoking, who knew what else they’d decide to ban?
“I don’t know, what do you think, Sabrina?” he asked. Maybe if he voted with her it would be like a peace offering or something.
She gazed up at the ceiling and said nothing. “She abstained,” Polly said after a minute.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he had it on good authority that she didn’t abstain. Owen knew it would get a laugh. Normally he’d just blurt it out, but this morning something made him choke the comment back. Sabrina would not appreciate sexual barbs aimed at her.
Owen said, “I’ll abstain too.” He glanced at Sabrina out of the corner of his eye. She seemed not to care. Even hungover and moody, she looked hot.
“It’s official, then,” Polly said brightly. “This is a nonsmoking house. Now we can talk about parties. I think we shouldn’t throw one without everyone agreeing.”
Owen winced. “Whoa! Wait a minute! This is getting out of hand. All we need is one person to always say no and there’ll never be another party.”
“So?” April asked.
Owen knew it. “You’ll be the one, right?”
“Maybe,” April replied.
Owen turned to the others, almost pleadingly. “Come on, guys, what do you want from me? If I knew I was going to need permission to throw parties, I would have stayed with my grandparents this summer.”
“All in favor of getting permission for parties, raise your hand,” Polly said. She and April raised their hands. “All against getting permission, raise your hand.” Owen raised his hand quickly and was gratified that Curt and Sabrina did the same. Even with Lucas and Avery abstaining, those against asking permission succeeded.
“Okay, so I guess that didn’t work.” Undaunted, Polly continued. “Let’s move on to chores. We have to divide up the work. There’s trash to be taken out, vacuuming to be done, scrubbing of bathrooms and kitchens, and shopping for food.”
Owen may not have had a headache before, but he was starting to get one now. This was summer vacation. Who wanted to think about all this crap? Luckily, he was not alone.
“Get real,” Sabrina said, displaying her hands. “You’re looking at a fifty-dollar manicure. These hands don’t scrub toilets.”
“Look, we all have to pitch in,” Polly said.
“I’m sorry, but who put you in charge?” Sabrina asked haughtily. It was clear to Owen that she’d had enough. Again, he found himself feeling a grudging admiration. Sabrina certainly had no trouble voicing her opinions. He watched as she hopped down from the perch she had made for herself on the kitchen counter and went back upstairs.
“I’m just trying to help,” Polly said in a small voice.
“Yeah, well, no thanks,” Curt said. “I’m outta here too. Come on, Avery.”
Avery started toward the door after Curt, then hesitated and patted Polly’s arm. “I appreciate the effort. It’ll be okay. Everyone’s just tired from the party. Maybe we can try again when everyone’s gotten a chance to know one another better.”
Polly looked disappointed, and Owen was surprised to find himself feeling bad for her. After all, she was trying, and maybe in a way she was right. He might love to party, but he also liked a refrigerator with food in it and a bathroom you could use without worrying about catching some infectious disease. The others started to drift away, and Polly looked crushed, her shoulders slumped and her eyes cast down at the floor. Owen had an idea and instantly hated it, but at least it might make her feel better.
“Hey, you know what might bring everyone together?” he said after the others had left and he and Polly were alone in the kitchen. “Maybe we should have a clambake or something.”
Polly instantly perked up. “That would be great! Just fantastic! Oh, Owen, I knew you were a good guy.”
Owen groaned to himself. Now he almost wished he hadn’t made the suggestion. Good guy? There goes my image, he thought. A second ago I was top stud, now I’m Mr. Sensitive Fix Your Problems!
“One thing?” he quickly added. “Let’s pretend it was your idea, not mine.”
“Why?” Polly asked.
“Just do it, okay?” Owen said. “It’s no biggie.”
Before Polly could press further, Lucas returned to the kitchen in shorts and a T-shirt, having ditched the wet suit.
“Clambake tonight at six thirty?” Polly asked.
“Great, I’ll be here,” Lucas said. “But right now, I’ve got to book.”
Owen needed to leave too, to get to work. Today was his first day on the parasailing boat and he had to get checked out on the equipment. He and Lucas left the house at the same time. Personally, Owen didn’t get the dreadlock thing on blond white guys. But Lucas gave off an aura of confident self-assurance that Owen inwardly wished he possessed.
They went through the front door together, into the morning sunlight. “Need a ride?” Owen asked.
“No, thanks,” Lucas said. “I can walk.”
“What? I’ve got cooties?” Owen joked.
Lucas grinned. “Okay.”
The sun was already hot and heating the air. Owen squinted in the brightness and felt a stab of pain in his skull—a sign of the hangover he’d been trying to avoid all morning. He put his hand up to shield his eyes.
“You all right?” Lucas asked.
“The sun, it hurts us,” Owen said in his best Golem impression.
Lucas chuckled. Owen smiled back. The smell of the surf was in the air. There were other scents as well, most of them sweet and sugary and sure to be coming from the boardwalk.
Owen could hear laughter and playful screaming from the direction of the beach. He pictured some girl squealing as a guy splashed her with water. His thoughts slipped back to Sabrina. Why did she have to be so bitchy that morning? It didn’t make sense. Usually he was the one who woke up disgusted, not the girl. There was something about her that was different, though. He had woken up half a dozen times before she did and just lain there and stared at her. Her beautiful blond hair fanning out around her face on the pillow. He’d wanted to reach out and—
“Uh, Owen, your car?” Lucas asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Owen shook himself out of the daydream and pointed down the street to a red Mustang convertible. A minute later they were in the car and Owen relaxed into the familiar black leather seats. “So, where do you work?” he asked Lucas as he put the car in gear.
“Surf shop,” Lucas said.
“Down on Main Street?” Owen started to steer in that direction.
“Yeah, but I’m not going there now. If you could drop me downtown I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure, anyplace in particular?” Owen asked.
“Nah, anywhere’ll be fine,” Lucas said. “So what are you doing this summer?” It was a subtle change of subject, but Owen wasn’t going to push it. If Lucas didn’t feel like telling him why he wanted to go downtown, that was his business.
“The parasailing boat,” Owen said.
“Never tried it,” Lucas said. “Is it fun?”
“The chicks are,” Owen said. “It’s a great way to meet them. You meet a lot of chicks at the surf shop?”
“A few,” Lucas replied noncommittally. “You can drop me here.”
Owen pulled the car over to the curb. They were on a block with a bunch of storefronts—a deli, a check-cashing place, a nail salon—not exactly high rent. Why here? he wondered.
“Thanks for the ride,” Lucas said, and got out.
Three
He could relate to April’s preference for black clothes, but didn’t go for the excessive eye makeup. He just didn’t get why she’d want to look like some character from a Tim Burton movie. He stepped closer to her door, trying to make out the words she was singing. She had a surprisingly good voice, kind of low and throaty. Her playing wasn’t half bad, either, even if it was sort of minimalistic. But it was some moody folk ballad. He hated that kind of crap, so he surprised himself when, after another minute, he knocked on her door.
The singing ceased abruptly, and there was a moment’s silence before April asked, “Who is it?”
“Curt.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
Good question. He wasn’t exactly sure himself, so he made up the first thing that came to his mind. “I want to apologize for being a dick about the smoking thing.”
Another moment of silence passed. Then he heard bedsprings, as if she was getting up. Next the door opened a crack, and one of her heavily mascaraed eyes peeked out.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was uncool. You’ve got a right to breathe.”
He thought he almost detected a smile, but wasn’t quite sure. “Thank you, apology accepted,” she said, and started to close the door.
“Wait,” he said.
She stopped and frowned.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Talk. One musician to another. I heard you playing. You sounded . . . good.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He might not have liked the style, but her playing and voice weren’t bad.
She stared at him for a minute before stepping back and opening the door. He walked in and was instantly struck by how small and dark her room was. The bed was wedged against one wall, and clothes were hung on a pole that ran the length of the room. It took him a minute to realize that there were no windows. It wasn’t even a room, just a big closet. An old Yamaha acoustic was propped in the corner. Piece of junk.
The Shore Page 5