Summer at Sunset: (The Summer Series Book 2)

by Beth Labonte

  There we have it, folks. Mom’s received her trophy. Can I let you in on a little secret?

  Not everybody needs to get a trophy.

  When everybody gets a trophy, your father ends up wearing a t-shirt with the words Wanted: Free Shots and Lap Dances across the front (about to get peer pressured into binge drinking with Rodney Dangerfield), and your mother ends up at a bachelorette party with a pulsating penis around her neck. When everybody gets a trophy, a situation that involves two very different families suffering through a week together at Sunset Havens—a week that was very close to being over—gets about a million times worse than it needed to be.

  I love Graham. I love how thoughtful he is, and how he even arranged for my bridesmaids—Sarah and Amber—to arrive this morning, rather than tomorrow when I was expecting them. And I love what he did for me yesterday, with the whole Beast thing. That was amazing. Nobody in the world does a thing like that. Nobody except for him. It’s an incredible feeling to have a man like Graham. Only, the feeling is dampened—dampened just a smidgeon—by the fact that he didn’t give me a heads up about one tiny little thing.

  That bus.

  That bus full of women who would like nothing better than to send me packing up north, while they form a conga line into the sunset with my fiancé. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that we already sorted all of that out. You’re thinking that we already established that it was Flavio who threw the brick through the window, and that it was Flavio who had the crush on Graham. That may all be true, and we may even have the police report to prove it—but, something’s still not sitting quite right with me. Not quite right at all.

  “What is this?” asks Mom, grabbing the necklace by the shaft. She holds it up in front of her face and peers at it through her bifocals.

  “Oh, you poor, dear,” says Gloria. “Has it really been that long?”

  “Or that short?” adds Francine, and all the women start to laugh.

  After a few seconds of staring at it, Mom’s face lights up with recognition.

  “Oy!” she shrieks. “Is this...somebody’s business?”

  “I don’t know if it’s any of my business,” says Francine. “But I’d sure like it to be.”

  “It looks so real!” says Mom. “Summer, look! Look how real it seems!”

  “Mom!”

  “What? Look at the veins!” She holds it out so I can feel the veins.

  “Gross, Mom! Stop! I don’t want to touch your business!”

  “Where did they get these from?” she asks.

  “On the Internet, Mom. Or at the mall.”

  “The mall?”

  “Yeah, like at Spencer’s.”

  Mom looks at me blankly.

  “That store that you never go in?” I say. “With the lava lamps and the Bob Marley posters?”

  “Oh, that store,” she says. “I’m not surprised. That place smells like drugs.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s just incense.”

  “You know, you ladies shouldn’t be swinging those things around in public,” says a man, passing by with his family. Both me and his wife give him a disgusted look, but the Sunset Havens women start whistling and swinging their necklaces over their heads like lassoes. Mom included.

  I take that as my cue to turn Sarah and Amber in the opposite direction, and lead them quickly toward a bench. They both look a bit shell-shocked, which is the same expression that I wore the first time I stepped inside Sunset Havens. I like to call it surprised horror.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “As horrifying as this must be for you, I’ve been dealing with it for weeks now.”

  “I don’t know,” says Sarah. “Those women seem like fun. Maybe you should give them a chance.”

  “I’ve been giving them a chance for weeks!” I shriek. “I’m done giving them chances! Did I mention that they’re trying to sabotage the wedding? See that one, with the orange hair? That’s my wedding planner.”

  The girls follow my finger to Nadine, who’s dragged Mom over to pose for a picture with a Canadian Mountie. They’re standing one on either side of him, holding something flesh-colored in their mouths. They look just like—

  “Are those party horns?” asks Amber, squinting her eyes.

  I let out a defeated sigh.

  “How much stuff did they bring?” asks Sarah. “I mean, I’ve never seen so many varieties of—”

  She trails off as two latecomers arrive, each carrying a life-sized male blow-up doll. Each of the dolls have been outfitted in a pair of yellow Speedos and a set of mouse ears. We watch in silence as Gloria hoists one of them up and onto her shoulders. Francine does the same with the second doll.

  “How do you think they got those past security?” asks Amber, and the three of us start to laugh.

  “It does feel good to laugh,” I say, sinking back into the bench. “I’m glad you guys are here.”

  “What about me?” asks Tanya, leaning over the back of the bench and shaking me by the shoulders.

  “You, too.”

  “Good,” says Tanya. “I was starting to worry that I’d been pushed out by these two, who just showed up out of nowhere. No offense.”

  “None taken,” say Sarah and Amber.

  “I’m glad that all of you are here,” I say. “Can you guys even believe that I’m getting married in a few days? I mean, at one point I thought I was going to die alone in my parents’ basement.”

  “Graham knows about your Harry Potter fan fiction, right?” asks Sarah. “Because that could still be a deal breaker.”

  I laugh. “No worries. I showed him the manuscripts after our third date. That’s when I knew we were meant to be.”

  “Okay, good,” says Sarah. “In that case, yes. I can totally believe that you’re getting married in a few days. Bring it in, girls.”

  The three of them wrap their arms around me and squeeze until I can hardly breathe, my plastic penis necklace flashing between us like an S.O.S.

  ***

  Things have been going fairly welf.

  Welj.

  Well.

  Sorry. I’ve had a few drinks. A few in Canada, a few in Italy, a few in—

  Buuuuurrrrp!

  Excuse me. Hee hee. I’ll tell you what, Mom has been a riot today. They all have. All of these women are amazing. I love them. I take back everything negative I ever said. I don’t know why I didn’t give them a chance before. I love Sunset Havens. And I love Walt Disney. What a great man. What a genius. What a—

  Hang on, I have to pee.

  Sorry. As I was saying.

  Hi.

  What? WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME?

  Oh, right. As I was saying, I love these women. Even Francine and Janice. They did this hilarious thing in Germany with a couple of bratwursts. They were standing in the fountain, and then there were these college guys, and one of them picked up Mom and swung—

  Good God it’s hot. What was I saying? I don’t remember. Something about Francine and Janice? Speaking of those two...where the heck did they go?

  GRAHAM

  29

  We make it through three more countries before Roger passes out on a bench in front of—

  Where are we?

  America. The American Adventure. That’s right. It’s hard to keep track. It’s just been country, shot, country, shot, country—

  What were we talking about?

  Roger. Right. He’s passed out on a bench in front of The American Adventure, which is just as well because ten minutes ago he got all of us kicked out of the theater for shouting profanities at an animatronic Ben Franklin. Maybe now that he’s out of the game, I can ease up on the booze, and—

  Man. Is it always this hot in Florida?

  —and pull myself together.

  If I run into Summer like this, I’m a dead man. Not that it’s my fault, per se. If anything, it’s her fault. Because...see...hang on a minute.

  Sorry, had to pee.

  It’s totally her fault. As
soon as I stepped away to use the restroom in Germany, Richard and his new best friend Roger ordered a round of Jagermeister. I barely had time to vault a bench, two flower beds, and a small child, in order to bump Richard from behind and make him spill his drink. Then I offered to buy him a new one, drank it myself—gagged, because Jagermeister is disgusting—and replaced it with a few ounces of Dr. Pepper.

  This is the most exhausting bachelor party I’ve ever been on.

  Anyway, Roger’s unconscious now, and I’ve sent Eric to the front of the park to rent him a wheelchair. I’d go myself, but I doubt they’d rent me anything in my condition. Once he gets back, we maneuver Roger into the wheelchair and start pushing him toward the parking lot and the Sunset Havens bus. I bring Richard along for safekeeping. Dad decides to come along too, since he feels partly responsible for Roger being here in the first place.

  Partly?

  Twenty minutes later, Eric and I carry Roger up the steps of the bus and lay him across the bench seat in the back. I fish the keys out of his pocket and toss them to Dad, missing him by about a mile.

  “You okay?” asks Dad, picking up the keys.

  “Fine, fine. I’m fine. Fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep. So, Dad. Who was planning on driving this thing back to Sunset Havens tonight?”

  “I assumed they had a designated driver,” says Dad, with a shrug.

  I shake my head. “Remember when I was a teenager and you and Mom would lay into me for doing stupid, spontaneous things without any thought about the consequences?”

  “And that was darn good advice. What’s your point?”

  “Never mind.”

  It’s a long, hot walk back to the World Showcase. I’m glad I have the wheelchair to hold onto, even if I have steered it into the shrubs a couple of times. We’re just walking through the gates, when Richard suddenly stumbles into the path of a woman pushing a stroller. He does a bit of a pirouette as the woman veers around him. I let go of the wheelchair and catch him before he falls. Too bad nobody caught that on video; I told Summer I’d watch out for her dad.

  He’s a lot heavier than I thought he’d be, though. So, now we’re both on the ground and my elbows might be bleeding.

  “You okay?” I ask. At least I stopped him from smacking his head on the cement. I maneuver the both of us into seated positions. I don’t think I can stand up just yet.

  “I think so,” says Richard. “I just got a little dizzy there for a minute.”

  “Here, have something to drink.” I grab a bottle of Gatorade out of the back pocket of the wheelchair.

  “Why doesn’t he just ride in that?” suggests Eric. “We rented it, we may as well use it.”

  Eric helps Richard up off the ground and into the wheelchair. I slowly stand up—fighting back a wave of nausea—and we start on our way again. As we enter the World Showcase, we take a shortcut through the countries we haven’t been to yet—the ones where Summer’s bachelorette party started out. We’re just entering Morocco, when Francine and Janice step into the path directly in front of me. I’m barely able to stop the wheelchair from plowing into them. When I do stop, Richard comes knee to knee with Francine. She gives him a wink. Slightly behind Francine and Janice, is a very familiar looking blonde in a Hooters tank top.

  It can’t be. I know that I’m drunk and dehydrated, but I don’t think I’m hallucinating. No, it’s definitely her.

  It’s Lana. Lana from the Bermuda cruise.

  You’ve probably only heard Summer’s side of that story, but I swear, nothing serious ever happened between us—just some PG-13 making out while Summer was busy trying to marry herself off to a racist hipster and a womanizing activities director. Just the same, Summer hated her guts. Especially that time we all ended up in the hot tub together.

  Anyway, it all worked out in the end, with Summer and I sailing off into the sunset, and Lana left behind like a bad plot device. But now, two days before our wedding, she’s inexplicably here.

  “Graham!” she says, stepping towards me and pulling me into a hug. “I can’t believe it’s you! Jessica and LuLu are never going to believe this!” She whips out her phone and starts texting.

  I look at Janice who’s glancing eagerly back and forth between Lana and me, and suddenly I’m feeling much more sober. Pieces are falling into place—granted, they’re falling much more slowly than they normally would—but they’re falling just the same. For years, Janice has been talking up this niece of hers. A niece who used to work at Hooters and used to be married to a no-good bum of a fry cook. A few years later, she told me that she had finally gotten a divorce. Janice was ecstatic. Her niece was single again and looking for love, and was I interested? A nice young man like myself? I told her I’d think about it. Then I started dating Summer and informed Janice that I was off the market. Only, I don’t remember the niece’s name being Lana, I think it was—

  “Svetlana!” says Dad, stepping forward and pumping her hand up and down. “It’s so nice to see you again! Graham, Eric, Richard, this is Janice’s niece, Svetlana. Now, I don’t want embarrass her, but Svetlana’s made a pretty famous video that’s been circulating all over the Internet, isn’t that right?”

  A...video?

  Lana nods her head. “No worries, Johnny. You’re such a sweetheart. I made a workout video for the mature woman! It’s huge on YouTube, and Auntie Janice says everybody is watching it down here at Sunset Havens. It’s called Perk Up Your Hooters!” She spreads her hands in the air as she says the words, then she motions to her tank top. “I wear this for the publicity. They haven’t even sued me yet!”

  A workout video...right.

  Eric pushes in front of me, staring at Lana’s chest. He sticks out his hand. “Eric Hartwell. You two have met before?” He seems to be asking the question to Lana’s left and right breasts, but I assume that he’s speaking to me.

  Eric doesn’t know Lana, since he never actually came on the cruise. The cruise that Lana/Svetlana must have come back from and told her aunt all about. The cruise on which she met this great guy named Graham, who wore vibrant clothing and slinked away into the night, never to be seen again. Not that I slinked away, exactly. Summer and I just avoided her for the rest of the cruise by eating dinner at four o’clock. We never did see her again, which was perfect because, like I said, Summer hated her guts.

  Janice would have known that was me in a heartbeat. How easy it would have been for her to invite Lana to Epcot today. How easy to innocently introduce us, and to feign surprise when it turns out that we’ve already met. How easy to stand back and watch while Summer chops off my head with an axe.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “We met on the cruise to Bermuda. Right before Summer and I got together. You remember Summer, don’t you Lana? Summer’s my fiancée. This is my bachelor party.”

  “Of course I know that,” says Lana. “That’s why I’m here. It’s a funny story. Auntie invited me today because she said it would be my last chance to—”

  Janice whacks her on the arm before she can finish. Lana gives her a look and clears her throat.

  “—my last chance to spend some time with her, before I head out on tour. I’m making appearances at every Planet Fitness in the Northeast! God, it is so good to see you again, Graham.” She gives my left bicep a squeeze. “So good.”

  “Is this true?” asks Dad. “You two have already met?” He nudges me suggestively with his elbow.

  “It’s true,” I say. “It’s a pretty crazy coincidence. Don’t you think so, Janice?”

  Janice looks up from inspecting a liver spot on the back of her hand. “What’s that, Graham?”

  “I said that it’s a pretty crazy coincidence that Lana, from the cruise, turned out to be Svetlana, your niece.”

  Janice lets out a wheeze of a laugh. “Small world, ain’t it?”

  “Did you say you were on the cruise?” asks Richard, finally joining the conversation and attempting to get out of the wheelchair. “You do loo
k a little familiar.”

  Yes, of course she looks familiar. She was suctioned to my face during karaoke night, while Richard sat about two feet away at the same table. This was the same night Summer took off with the racist hipster because she didn’t want to watch Lana hang all over me. It’s not exactly something I want my future father-in-law remembering two days before my wedding to his daughter.

  “Rich, why don’t we get you out of the sun?” I grab the handles of the wheelchair, scoop him back in, and zigzag him over to a shady spot. “And here, have some more to drink.”

  I grab the bottle of Gatorade from the back pocket of the wheelchair and hand it to him. Once he’s situated, I head back over to the group to find Francine holding her cell phone in the air. She’s pulled Lana’s video up on YouTube and has turned the volume to full blast.

  “Dad, what’s going on?” I ask. That’s when I see Lana shaking her hips in time to the music.

  “She’s putting on a demonstration,” says Dad, clapping me on the shoulder. “Too bad Roger’s unconscious. This is turning out to be quite the bachelor party.”

  SUMMER

  30

  The wedding is off.

  The wedding is off and I’m going to be single forever, and I’m actually okay with that. I mean, I used to think that Graham was the one, but now I know the truth. We’re all entitled to be wrong once in our lives. Sucks that I had to be wrong two days before my wedding, but so goes life.

  Oh, I’m overreacting, am I?

  I’ll tell you what happened and then you can decide for yourself based on the facts. (The facts being that Graham is a sneaky, no-good cheater.)

  After having a few too many drinks, Tanya decided that I needed a cup of coffee if I was going to make it through the rest of the afternoon. The two of us were heading off toward Morocco, in search of a Starbucks, when we saw Graham, Eric, and John standing by a fountain watching a stripper.

  We skidded to a halt several feet behind them, too shocked to even ask them what was going on. We just stood there, taking it all in. The stripper wasn’t topless or anything. Not yet, at least. But from the way she was gyrating, she was well on her way. She was wearing a Hooters tank top and looked, in my opinion, a lot older than someone Eric would have normally chosen. I suppose he just picked her randomly out of the phonebook, or out of a stripper-locating app that he and Graham probably invented. I should really start paying more attention when Graham talks to me about work.