Courting Carlyn

by Melissa Chambers

  He turns his head. “Wait, aren’t you going to change? Like in the bathroom over there?”

  I let my skirt drop to the ground and then snap at him to look at me. I point at my boy shorts. “Hello? This is more coverage than my bikini, you prude.”

  I peel my tank off, leaving me with my big, ugly sports bra, but who cares. I’m about to have heat stroke out here. I jump into the pool and stay under, letting the cool water seep through my veins, instantly bringing my body temperature down a dozen degrees.

  The water bursts into bubbles in front of me, and when they clear, Vaughn comes into view in all his shirtless glory. I head to the surface, and so does he.

  He shakes his head, sprinkling water all over my face. “So which is it?”

  “Which is what?”

  “Prude or perv. You’ve called me both, but I can’t be both.”

  I let my head drop to one side. “You know, in your case, I think you can.”

  He gives me this little grin I’m starting to notice he does where he sort of bunches up one side of his mouth, exposing a dimple that isn’t there with his regular smile. I turn from him. Look away from the grin.

  “So how did this camp come about? Whose idea was it?”

  He exhales a deep breath. “Once Avery’s tennis program knew I was interested, they were, too, but certain people at the school were afraid of scandal at their college. My bad test scores didn’t help matters, either. So Jeffrey and I brainstormed some ideas to present…sort of a community relations project. I wanted to work with kids.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wish I would have had something like this when I was younger…something just for fun…someone to talk to who wasn’t old. Someone closer to my age who gave a shit. I mean, Jeffrey did.” He scratches his head, furrowing his brow. “Maybe there’re some kids I’ll meet here who don’t have parents at home, either. Maybe we could talk about that.”

  I’m so touched I almost want to tear up, but I’m not putting that awkward out into this swimming pool. “That’d be really nice. I’m sorry your parents aren’t around.”

  He shrugs. “Jeffrey’s around.”

  “Mmm,” I say, splashing some water up on my arms.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Hmm?” I ask, but I realize how I might have come off a second ago. I couldn’t help it. I’m not sure he’s the best role model, definitely not when you look at Vaughn’s dating history. Like coach, like player.

  “You don’t think much of him, do you?”

  “I don’t know him,” I say, which I think is fair.

  He searches my expression. “I know you don’t like him because of what he did to your dad, and I know he’s an inconsiderate ass, but he’s stood by me since I was twelve. He’s at every tournament he can possibly be at, and he makes sure I eat right and take care of myself. He even took me to Minneapolis to spend Christmas with him and his sister’s family when there really wasn’t anywhere for me to go last year. So yeah, he sucks for stealing your dad’s girlfriend, but there’s more to him than that one stupid thing.” He goes to get out of the pool, but then turns back to me. “And by the way, I know he’d never say or even think it, but I’m sorry that happened to you and your dad.” He pushes himself up and out, grabbing his bag on the way to the gate.

  I smooth the wet hair from my face, resting my back against the side of the pool, realizing how clueless I’ve been about Vaughn all these years. I’ve been thinking he was this invincible guy with this glamorous lifestyle, but clearly, I’ve been misguided.

  Chapter Seven

  Vaughn

  Carlyn and I spend the day ushering campers into the cabins and getting them settled. I’m glad for the distraction. I’ve only really known her for two days now, but I’ve told her more about myself than I’ve told anyone in my entire lifetime. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because it kind of feels like we’re not in reality right now, out in the country and all—the two of us the only ones here our age. Or maybe it’s because she seems to genuinely like me and be interested in me for me, and not for something I can do or be for her.

  I was harsh today in the pool. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s like last night, with her questions about my parents, and her gentle, careful response, I feel close to her now for some unknown reason. But she’s not my goddamned therapist. She’s my co-worker, one who I’ve been ordered to keep my distance from, which is exactly what I need to do from now on.

  We file into the mess hall for dinner at six o’clock, and Nancy and Fred stand behind the counter handing out plates of pepperoni pizza and salads to the campers. Carlyn sits at the table with some of the younger kids, and I do the same, getting to know them. Leon is going into eighth grade and carries a small steno pad that he sketches on. Tyler will be in ninth and can’t stop talking about his older brother who plays basketball for Villanova. And Micah is the comedian, slapping down one-liners like playing cards.

  After we eat, I approach Carlyn at the table with the girls. “Can I talk to you a sec?”

  “Sure.” She tosses her napkin onto her plate. “Keisha, would you mind taking my plate to the trash when you take yours?” Keisha nods with a smile like it’s an honor. I bet these kids will be in love with Carlyn before the day’s end.

  I walk behind the mess hall for some privacy. “I’m really sorry about how I acted earlier in the pool. I don’t know why I let all that out on you. That was completely unfair.”

  She gives me a sweet smile. “You were fine. We’re just talking out here. What else are we gonna do?”

  I may be mistaken, but there feels like a little bit of innuendo there, and it’s kind of turning me on. I clear my throat. “So, are we cool?”

  “Cucumber cool,” she says. I smile, and she blushes. “Sorry. Dork talk.”

  “I like dork talk.”

  She smiles and steps backward, sort of stumbling over a stick. I grab her arm to steady her, and it’s like a jolt of energy comes through me. Not in some sort of supernatural way, but in an I think I like this girl kind of way.

  I drop her arm once she’s steady and put my attention squarely on the campers where it needs to be. “I can’t believe how quickly they’ve formed into little cliques. Are you seeing this?”

  “Yeah, that’s what they do. It’s like that at the center. I just keep my eye on them and make sure nobody’s picking on anyone. And if you see someone drifting alone a lot, try to find a way to pull them into a group or ask them to do something for you with another kid like go clean the tiles in the pool when everyone else is doing arts and crafts or something like that.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair.”

  “Oh, no. They love doing stuff like that, especially when it’s not a punishment…when they feel like they’re being asked to help with a chore as a peer. It gives them a sense of accomplishment and value.”

  “How do you know all this?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Working at the center for a couple of years.”

  I smile at her. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I came.”

  Now I’m the one a little nervous. I look down at my clipboard. “I pulled a few games off the internet. You’ve been a camper before, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you recognize any of these?” I hand her the clipboard, and she takes a minute to look over them.

  “These look good, and I’m sure we’ll play them all before the week’s over, but why don’t we start by going around the circle and have each kid tell us why they wanted to come here.”

  “Is that enough? I mean, is that too boring?”

  She smiles at groups of kids chattering so loud they’re probably scaring off the snakes. “Those games are designed for shy campers. I don’t think we’ll have that problem with this group. You got a tennis ball on you?”

  I pat my pockets, as if I’m going to magically produce a ball. “I’ll grab one.”
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  By the time I return from the barn with the ball, Carlyn has the kids sitting in folding chairs in a circle. I hand her the ball, and she looks at me expectantly. I take it back and think I know what she has in mind.

  I toss the ball to the one kid who’s paying attention to me, a thirteen-year-old boy who sort of resembles me when I was that age. Shaggy sandy-blond hair, tall and lanky, he sticks out like a sore thumb, being one of the only white kids in the bunch.

  “What’s your name?” I ask in a loud and authoritative tone, hoping to garner attention from the group.

  He glances around tentatively. “Josh.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He gives me a deer in headlights look, his mouth hanging open. Micah, the comedian, says, “Catching flies on his tongue right about now.” The group cackles at this joke. Josh looks mortified, but I have to admit, it was a decent icebreaker.

  “What I meant to ask was why did you want to come to this camp?” I say.

  “To play tennis?” Josh asks, rather than states.

  Micah says, “They do that here? I ain’t know that. I thought we were using the courts for cage fighting.”

  The group laughs again, and I see what I’ve got on my hands for the next week. Nancy and Fred sit in foldout chairs, observing. Nancy gives me an encouraging nod.

  Carlyn gazes at me with those golden-brown eyes of hers, and I forget my situation for a moment, but she doesn’t. “What we mean is are you here because you’re passionate about tennis, or are you here to get a free week away from your parents?” she asks. The group grumbles with a variety of responses, none of which are coming through clearly. Carlyn holds up both hands. “Everyone will get a turn. We’re asking Josh now.”

  I like all these we’s. We’re a team. Carlyn and me. And her take-charge attitude is kind of hot.

  Josh glances around and then swallows hard. “I’m passionate…about tennis.”

  Carlyn’s face widens in a grin. “Cool. Group, this is Josh.” She holds both hands out to her sides, palms pushing upward. “Hi, Josh,” she says. The group repeats it like a broken version of an AA meeting. “What’s your favorite food, Josh?” she asks.

  “Uh, corndogs?”

  “Fantastic. Josh is the guy who loves corndogs,” she says. “Now toss the ball to someone else.”

  Josh looks directly at the kid who gave him a hard time and throws the ball to him with more effort than necessary. I think I like Josh already. The group oohs, and Micah lifts his eyebrows in question, probably trying to figure out if he should be pissed or not.

  “Micah, right?” I ask. “What about you? You here for tennis or for a week away from your parents?”

  He shrugs. “Tennis’s all right, I guess.”

  “What’s your real sport?” I ask him.

  “Basketball.”

  “Micah’s the guy who’d rather be playing basketball,” I say, taking Carlyn’s lead. She gives me a smile in confirmation.

  “Pick somebody else,” I tell him.

  Micah lets the ball fall off the tips of his fingers to the guy sitting next to him, an older guy who stares me down like he’s sizing me up for a boxing match. Jeffrey’s assistant handled the paperwork for the applicants. I start to wonder if she did anything to verify these kids’ ages. This one looks like he could be twenty, easily. He’s taller than I am with a good fifteen pounds on his chest that I don’t have.

  “What’s your name?” I ask. He blinks lazily, keeping his mouth shut.

  “This is Lorenz,” Micah says.

  “You here for tennis, Lorenz?” I ask.

  “Can we just drop this bullshit?” Lorenz says.

  Fred holds up a hand. “First and only warning. No cussing at camp. I hear you do it again and it’s adios, kid. Everyone here got the list of rules when they checked in…signed an acceptance form. Anyone needs to refer back to those they’re posted on the bulletin board right over there in the mess hall. Got it?” The group grumbles. “I said got it?” Fred asks in a voice that would make a military sergeant wince.

  “Got it,” the group says in unison.

  “Thank you kindly. Vaughn, please accept my apologies for the interruption.”

  I nod at him, and then train my gaze on Lorenz. “I take it you’re not here for the tennis.”

  He stands, leveling the playing field with me. “Look around, man. You got a camp full of black kids. None of us is here for the tennis.”

  I glance at the kids who, for the most part, look too afraid to commit to a side.

  “Is that true?” I ask. “Anybody besides Josh here to play tennis?” A couple of kids shrug, others nudge the ground with their feet. “That’s fine,” I say. “We’re here for a lot of things. We’ve got a pool and our own big private lake, and we’re going to spend plenty of time in both of those places. But I want to make one thing clear. Every single one of you is going to walk out of here Saturday knowing the difference between a ground stroke, a volley, a lob, and a serve. You’re going to know how to hold a racquet, and you’re going to hit a ball over the net and into the singles court. You’re going to learn the terms baseline, volley, and let, which I’ll cheat and tell you now is tennis’s version of do-over.” A couple of campers smile.

  Lorenz swats his hand in the air. “We don’t need any of that sh…” He stops himself, glancing at Fred, who stares through him with lifted eyebrows. “Stuff. Just get out of our way and let us do what we want. We’re here ’cause our parents wanted to get rid of us for the week at some rich folks’ expense.”

  I nod. “Fair enough. But that’s not why Carlyn and I are here. We’re here to teach you tennis, and Jeffrey Lyons is carving a lot of time out of his busy schedule to come here and teach you. People pay hundreds of dollars for two hours with him. You’re getting him for free for three days. This is an opportunity. I urge you to take it and to make the most out of it.”

  Some of the kids nod, others still look too scared to speak. Carlyn holds her cards to her chest but gives me enough of a small smile to let me know she’s with me. Lorenz gives a dismissive snort, rolling his eyes.

  I point to the driveway. “Dude, if you’re not happy here, we’ll call your dad to come get you tomorrow morning.”

  Lorenz’s eyes widen enough to let me know that I just hit the magic button with him. “Whatever.” He sits down in his chair, dropping the ball beside him. The girl sitting next to him picks it up.

  “Do you all want to know what I love about tennis?” Carlyn asks. “It’s a sport you can play the rest of your life. Think about it. When you’re forty-five, how often do you think you’ll be out on a football field with a group of other old people playing games?”

  “I doubt any of us will live to be forty-five,” one of the boys says, which garners a few laughs from the group.

  Carlyn balls up both of her fists and holds them in front of her. “Tennis is something that is yours. You can take it with you for as long as you want. You don’t ever have to quit if you don’t want to. You can be as good as you practice to be.” She points around the group. “I’ve seen several of you at the rec center downtown. They have courts there, and they’re yours for the taking. You can play each other. It’s fun, it’s great exercise, and it’s a really cool bonding thing.”

  The group nods and mumbles.

  “But more so than any of that, when you get to the point that you’re consistently hitting the ball over the net and inside the lines, and you have the opportunity to slam one past your opponent right on the baseline, there’s no greater sense of power or accomplishment.”

  A few campers look at her with hope in their eyes, and as little as it may be, I think she may have struck a nerve here and there. She points at the girl who picked up the ball. “Keisha, where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?”

  The little girl with her hair tied up in a bun on top of her head says, “Here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Carlyn

  My girls and I ar
rive at breakfast before the guys. Fred and Nancy serve us with smiles…well, Nancy smiles, Fred just nods, but I’m learning that his serious face also doubles for his happy face. The boys head our way in a line, two by two with Vaughn bringing up the rear, the little boy Josh by his side.

  The corner of Vaughn’s lip curls up, and he gives me that cool guy quick nod in a good morning greeting. It’s like there are two different Vaughns. There’s this guy I idolized for so many years at the club, and then there’s this Vaughn. Still smooth, gorgeous, and commanding of my respect, but also this vulnerable guy with cracks in his exterior that I never could have dreamed existed. I kind of like this new version I’m seeing of him.

  After we all finish eating, and we’ve sat around about thirty minutes while everyone’s food settles, Vaughn sets his legs in a wide stance, claps his hands, and rubs them together. “All right. After you’ve thrown out all your trash, let’s head to the courts. But first, I want these tables to look as spotless as they did when you sat down at them.”

  The campers moan and groan in response but follow his instruction. I can’t help but be a little turned on by the way he wields his authority. He’s only eighteen, but he commands the attention of the room with his presence. He’s tall, so that may have something to do with it, but he also gives the air that he knows what he’s doing…that he’s in charge. Like if a swarm of aliens transcended down in spaceships ready to take us all, we’d turn to him for leadership. I can see him now, holding up both hands with a blasé nod. “Okay, listen up. Here’s the plan.”

  We head toward the courts, and I follow him to the shed to help pull out the equipment. “If you’ll roll the cart, I’ll get the racquets and cones,” he says. I back the cart out of the shed, while he reaches for one of the bags containing half the racquets. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

  I pause, wondering if this is a trick question. “Sure.”