"Joel and I came out here so he could answer some questions that were too specific for Betty and Luis to handle," Gretchen said. "I think this guy's been asking for a few minutes of Joel's time since the booth's been open." She motioned to the person Joel was talking to. "Anyway, we had to come down here for a few minutes, but Rachel said she'd text me when one of our boys is up. You guys can go on in if you want. We have a whole crew up there in the stands." Gretchen looked at Trevor before reaching out to squeeze him by the shoulders. "I'm sorry I haven't said this already, but I'm Gretchen."
"It's so nice to meet you," Trevor said, hugging her back. "I've heard so much about you, Gretchen."
"Same here," Gretchen said. "You're the one with the thumb thing, right?"
Trevor laughed. "It seems my thumb precedes me." We all hesitated for a moment before he finally said, "I guess this is the part where I satisfy your curiosity." He set down his coffee cup and proceeded to pop his thumb out of socket at a seemingly painful angle. Gretchen sucked air in through her teeth and covered her eyes with her hands.
"Oh my God, does that hurt?" she asked, squinting at his hand through her fingers.
"Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if it hurt. I really like you so far, but I'm not ready to cause myself pain for your personal entertainment."
"Aw, come on. Not even for a lady with a baby?" Gretchen asked, joking around.
We were all laughing when a deep male voice came from behind me, startling me to the point where I jumped and gasped. "Rachel tried to text you, Collin's up in a minute," the voice said.
I guessed who it was before I turned around. His voice was deep, and his tone was abrupt. It was Josh… the resident expert on everything—the guy who could always be seen with a scowl. I stepped out of the way so he could speak with Gretchen, but looked down to avoid eye contact with him.
"Collin's up in a few," he told Gretchen. He started to turn around, but stopped when he looked at me. "Funny shirt, Brit," he said, breathing a laugh. "I'll bet you get that all the time."
He stated it as a rhetorical question, but I answered it. "All the time," I said, smiling a little at the fact that he understood my shirt when I usually had to explain it (and even then, people didn't think it was all that funny).
Chapter 4
Josh
I knew that little artist hippie was standing at the table talking to Gretchen. I could see her from twenty feet away as I was crossing the lobby to tell Gretchen and Joel we had a swimmer coming up. Brit had a guy standing next to her who I assumed was her boyfriend. They might as well have been twins. They had on the same tight pants and everything. I rolled my eyes at the sight of them. I told Gretchen that Collin was about to swim, and planned on going back to my seat without even acknowledging Simon and Garfunkel, but I couldn't help but comment on her shirt when I read it. I assumed it was a play on her name, which struck me as funny. I mentioned it to her and she seemed surprised I got the joke.
She had brownish hair that stood on end in wisps of unruly curls. Everything about that girl was unruly. I took in the sight of her before scanning her sidekick who was still avoiding eye contact with me. I almost went back to my seat without a word to him, but I decided to be nice and introduce myself.
"Josh," I said, holding out a hand to him. He shook my hand with a grip that was weak, even for a girl.
"Trevor," he said.
I normally would have said more, but I was fairly certain I had absolutely nothing in common with him. I turned and headed back to the stands to catch Collin's race. I heard Gretchen call Joel's name as I walked away.
I was sitting with Ethan, Collin, and Zack's families. I knew quite a few of the athletes competing this weekend, so I made some rounds in the stands, but mainly stayed with my people. Rachel and her family were with us too, and I figured Brit and Skinny Jeans would be joining us. I wasn't worried about it. I knew it'd be easy enough to avoid them.
Collin crushed everyone in his heat and I could tell he wasn't even swimming his hardest. Watching him swim was the equivalent to watching Usane Bolt run. Collin Blake was born to be in the water. There was no denying it. I was an okay swimmer in college, and still liked to do it for exercise, but I could never compare myself to Collin. Those of us in his cheering section were trying not to be totally obnoxious. He was so good that it almost felt like you were just trying to rub it in if you cheered for him at all. Rachel apparently didn't feel that way. She yelled to her heart's content and didn't care who heard.
Brit and her boyfriend sat one row in front of me on the other side of Rachel and her family. They were having a good old' time down there on that end. I could hear them laughing and cheering as they watched the races. Gretchen sat by me, and bent over to whisper in my ear when she caught me stealing a glance in their direction. "That's not her boyfriend, you know."
"Who? Oh, her? I wasn't… I don't care who he is. They were making so much noise. I was just seeing what's going on."
"Oh, come on," Gretchen said. "They're just having fun. No one's even swimming, and it's not like we're in a library. You're just jealous because she came with another guy, but like I said, they're not together."
I couldn't help but let out a laugh. The last emotion I was feeling at that moment was jealousy. She was cute and all, but not even close to the type of girl I would think about going out with. "You got me," I said smiling. "I'm in love."
"Alright tough guy," Gretchen said, scowling. "You don't have to ask her out, but don't be mean. I know her better than you do, and she's a really great girl."
"I'm not being mean, I just wish they would shut up. I wish Collin's mom was here, she'd get onto them for us."
"You're right about that." Collin's dad turned around to look at me with a smile.
"I'm sorry Mr. Blake," I said. "Please don't tell your wife I said that." He smiled, assuring me he hadn't taken the comment personally. Mrs. Blake's intolerance for funny business was something we all got a kick out of.
"No," he said. "I was just thinking about how it's probably better she's not here because she gets so nervous at these things."
"Where is she?" I asked.
"She had some elective surgery, and she had a lot more bruising than she anticipated." Gretchen's head whipped around and she looked at me as if maybe we shouldn't be privy to such information. I knew Mrs. Blake didn't care if people knew she had plastic surgery, so the news hadn't taken me off guard at all. I just smiled and regarded Mr. Blake, who looked like he had something else to say. "She had her plane ticket and everything. It's a procedure she's had in the past, and she thought she would have recovered by now."
Just then, I heard an ear-piercing whistle from the seat on the other side of me. It was Ethan's dad, and I looked up to find Ethan lining up at poolside for a race. I put my thumb and forefinger into my mouth and gave two short, shrill whistles. Ethan looked up into the stands and gave a nod and a smile.
"You're going to have to teach me that," Ethan's dad said. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Let's go Ethan!" in that deep voice that could only belong to a dad. Ethan heard him and smiled as he lifted his chin slightly. He was on the starting block by that point, so he didn't look up into the stands.
It was the 50 Free, which is a really quick one, so within the next minute we watched the race from start to finish. Ethan finished in first, and our little cheering section erupted in screams and whistles. After we all settled down from the excitement of Ethan's victory, most of us spaced on our phones for a few minutes, waiting for the next race to begin.
"I promised Emily I'd get all of Ethan's races since she couldn't be here." Ethan's mom said, leaning over to talk to Gretchen and me.
"Oh my goodness, that is so funny," Gretchen said. "That's who I was just texting. She asked me to video Ethan's races too."
I just smiled to myself. I didn't mention that I had just done the same thing. Emily did the smart thing by asking us all. She knew she could count on at least one of us to
follow through. Apparently, we were a reliable bunch. Her phone was probably blowing up right then.
I knew at least a dozen of the guys and girls who are competing this weekend, but Collin, Ethan, and Zack were the main ones I was here to see. I watched the next seven or eight races with less enthusiasm than I had when I was watching one of my boys. This worked out, because everybody in our group used the opportunity to make dinner plans.
After a bit of deliberation, everyone in the group was able to agree on Japanese food. The ones who didn't like sushi said they'd get hibachi. That was a primo scenario for me since I could eat sushi all day long. There were twenty of us, so I knew dinner would be a fiasco, but I was excited about eating some fish.
****
Actually, I was wrong about the whole fiasco thing. We made it to the restaurant before the dinner crowd, and they seated us at two hibachi grills, ten people around each table. The tables were horseshoe shaped, and I ended up on the far edge, directly across from Brit and her sidekick. I couldn't hear anything they were saying, but they were obviously having the time of their lives.
I was sitting next to Rachel's mom, Rita. She was a nice lady, but it's not like we chatted it up the whole time. There was quite a bit of comfortable silence shared on our end of the table. That was in stark contrast to Brit's end, where she, Trevor, and Rachel were talking and laughing it up like hibachi was the coolest experience in the world. I began to wonder if I was just a grumpy person. I would have never considered myself to be one, but compared to the shenanigans happening on the other side of the table, I must come across as stiff, to say the very least. I couldn't quite tell if I was put off by how much fun they were having, or jealous of it. I decided not to overthink it, and went to the task of devouring the beautiful albacore, mackerel, and array of other fish on my plate.
"Looks like you've eaten sushi before," Rachel's dad said to me as he took in my plate.
"As often as I can," I replied.
"Us too," he said, gesturing to the huge plate of sushi that had just been put in front of him and his wife. "What's that right there?" I squinted down at one of their sushi rolls, trying to figure out what was inside it.
Jimmy knew which one I was talking about. "It's called Kampyo," he said. "It's a type of squash. We order two rolls of it every time because we both love it. Most sushi places have it, even if it's not on the menu."
"You should definitely try it for yourself," Rachel's mom said. She nudged their plate towards me indicating that I could grab one. I took her up on the offer. "I use wasabi and soy sauce, but Jimmy just uses wasabi," she said.
I set the bite size piece on the little plate in front of me and used my chopstick to put wasabi on it before I popped it into my mouth. It was really good, and I figured I'd be adding it to the list of things I order regularly. I told Rachel's parents I was officially a fan of Kampyo and that I wished I could turn them on to something cool, but it seemed as though they already knew more than me.
During the meal, I caught Brit looking at me a few times from across the table. Each time, she broke eye contact immediately and acted like she hadn't been looking in the first place. I didn't want things to be awkward between us, but she and I seemed unable to get along like normal people for some reason. After I caught Brit looking at me for about the third time, I noticed her and Rachel as they began discussing and spreading the word about something. Rachel came over to talk to her parents and me as Brit crossed to the other table.
"We're going to a cool coffee shop after this for some dessert and jazz music if any of you want to come," Rachel said. One hand was on her mom's shoulder, but her gaze swept over the whole side of the table. "It's close to our hotel so it's your choice if you want to go or not. The guys can't really stay out all night, so we're just going for a little bit."
Rachel's mom and dad were both nodding like they thought it was a great idea. Rachel looked at me as if to ask if I was going. I shrugged. I liked jazz and everything, but I wasn't so sure a hipster coffee shop was my thing. "I might check it out," I said. I wasn't quite ready to commit even though I couldn't think of anything else to do. Rachel smiled and patted me on the shoulder before heading back to her seat.
Brit had apparently finished delivering the news to the other table because by the time Rachel got back to her seat, Brit was already sitting down. They were smiling and nodding at each other as they talked, and I imagined they were saying what a successful mission they had each been on and giving each other a headcount on who all was coming. The way they both smiled constantly made me feel a bit like I very well might be living a miserable existence.
****
I ended up going to the coffee shop. Zack and Ethan's families went back to the hotel, but everyone else went for dessert and jazz. We had ten or twelve people in our group, and thankfully there was a huge sectional sofa that had just opened up when we got there. It was a great spot because we could clearly see the little stage where the band was set up. The only drawback to the sofa was that there wasn't quite enough room for all of us to sit. Collin's little brother and Brit and her friend volunteered to sit on the floor on throw pillows, and the rest of us piled onto the couch with our tiny plates full of pasteries. Several of the guys, including myself, offered to let Brit sit in our place, but she refused saying she was comfortable on the floor.
An hour later, our group had dwindled to eight people—Collin, Rachel, Joel, Gretchen, Ethan, Brit, Brit's friend, and me. Zack debated on staying to hang out a little longer, but ultimately decided to go get some rest. We all agreed that we would just hang out for another hour or so but it really was a cool place and the jazz was excellent in spite of the band only having one black guy.
Rachel and Gretchen were having a conversation with Brit about the art center when Rachel suddenly gasped and said, "You haven't heard her sing?"
I assumed she was talking to Brit about Gretchen since I knew Gretchen sang in the theater quite a bit, but Rachel was looking at Gretchen who was shaking her head in denial.
"I didn't even know she could sing," Gretchen said.
"Well, it's not something I go around telling people. Hi, I'm Brit, yes, I'm British, and I can sing."
The three girls all laughed before Rachel regained a serious expression like they should be getting down to business. She looked at Brit with wide eyes. "Would you sing? If I went up there and asked them to let you sit in for a song, would you sing?" Her expression changed to pleading, and Brit just shrugged as if to tell her she could ask the band if she wanted to.
Rachel walked up to the piano player in between songs and whispered into his ear. They had an exchange before Rachel smiled and cooked a finger at Brit, telling her to get up there. Brit stood up with a huge smile and trotted excitedly over to the little stage. She and Rachel high-fived before Rachel started back toward the couch where we were all sitting.
Chapter 5
Brit
I wanted to get on that adorable stage from the moment I stepped foot in the coffee shop earlier that afternoon, so Rachel's idea for me to sing was A-O.K. with me. Then I asked them if they could play one of my favorites called I Put a Spell on You, by Nina Simone. The sax player, a young guy with dreads, was way into the idea since the singer and sax had a bit of back and forth during the song. He and I were looking at each other like we were about to have some fun when the drummer counted off the tune and the band began to play.
My voice didn't have the same timbre as Nina Simone's, but it was low and raspy for a girl, and I had an easy time singing any of her songs. I was a little nervous but the band was great, and I quickly got over my fears and settled into the feel of the song. I loved the blues, and it showed in my stage presence. Trevor always said I'm the blackest white girl he knows.
I scanned the faces in the coffee shop as I sang. Most of the guests stopped what they were doing to look at me, which only fueled my desire to give them a show. Up until the time I took the stage, there had been no vocals at all, so the novelty of h
aving a singer up there had every eye in the house trained on me. I loved it. As I sang, I looked around the room, taking in the expressions of everyone I saw. Some of the people who'd come with us (including, but not limited to Gretchen and Josh) were slack-jawed with shock. I sent them all a smile as the sax player went into his solo and I turned away from the crowd to watch him do his thing. He was really good. He winked at me and set me up for the little exchange that the singer and sax have on Nina Simone's version of the song. I picked up his cue and began singing to him. He and I had our musical exchange as we brought the song to a close.
I faced the crowd again, hung the microphone back on the stand, and took a slight bow. The whole place started clapping, which was a little startling considering that up until then, the applause had been pretty quiet.
The sax player leaned over and put his arm around me. "You got another one in you?" he asked.
I smiled up at him. "I'll let you guys get back to it, but thanks so much for inviting me up here."
I gave a little wave to each member of the band before I started toward my seat. "You come back any time, darlin," the piano player said, and I waved and blew him a kiss at the sweet offer.
Rachel, Gretchen, and the rest of the gang (most of them, anyway) were all wearing huge smiles when I made my way toward the couch, greeting me like I'd just made an inspiring speech or something. Gretchen was the first to speak. She basically yelled across the room before I was even halfway back to our spot. "I am officially making you move to Los Angeles," she said. "I don’t care if I have to beg, borrow, or steal. You're coming to work with me at The Center."
I sat down on the couch, which now had plenty of room since some of our group had left.
"I can't believe you didn't tell her you love to sing," Rachel said looking at me. "She plays the guitar too."
Mind the Gap (In Too Deep) Page 3