“All right. I can work on my tan. But ain’t no way I’m going in the water. It’ll be freezing this time of year.”
“I prefer to think of it as refreshing,” I countered.
“Yeah, right.”
Okay, so I’d brave the waters alone. At least we’d be doing something other than staring at a movie screen. After I got on the road, I asked, “Will you be in trouble for being late?”
“Probably. But maybe not. My mom will be mad at you, not me. I’m supposed to watch Prince Ricky.”
“Your brother, I presume?”
“You can’t believe what a pain in the ass he is, and my mom thinks he’s so perfect. It’s always Ricky this and Ricky that. I don’t even exist except to watch him. You have no idea.”
When we reached a red light, I turned to her and said, “Feel the back of your head.” She looked at me as if I’d gone insane. “Go ahead, do it.” With a look that said she was simply humoring me, she reached up a hand and ran it over her head. “Notice how it’s nice and curved?” I leaned toward her, still keeping my eyes on the stoplight. “Now feel mine. See how it’s flat?”
She did and said, “Ew. It is kinda flat.” She felt hers again to compare.
“That’s because when I was a baby, my parents used to spend their time chasing my brother around. He was hell on wheels. I was an easy baby, so they left me lying in bed all day by myself. Baby’s heads are soft, so mine eventually flattened.”
Deedee thought about it. “You’re lucky you got all that hair. It covers it up. I’d never have known you had a flat head.”
“My point is, you’re not alone. I understand what it’s like to lose out because of a spoiled brother.” And I had the deformity to prove it.
THE SANTA MONICA beach near the pier was packed—I remembered too late that there was a big environmental fair and beach cleanup going on. Even though it was off-season, the beach was filled with rows of tents with booths set up on the sand. Music from the sponsoring radio station, K-JAM, blared from speakers—top forty pop and hip-hop music, which I would’ve enjoyed a lot more if I hadn’t had to pay seven bucks to park. Deedee carted a beach bag, and I carried towels and a boogie board borrowed from Susan, which I slung over my shoulder by its leash in the smooth manner of Sinatra holding a raincoat.
The day was clear but windy. Waves broke along the shore as if detonated. Although the air was warm, the water temperature in March would definitely be icy. The surfers wore wet suits (something I should have looked into), but the fact that a few swimmers braved the water in ordinary swimwear gave me hope.
Since we had to pass the fair to get to the water, I figured I could drag Deedee to check and see if there was an L.A. Rideshare booth—while I was at it, say hi to Elaine, the woman who worked weekend events for us. It occurred to me that my sudden interest in my co-worker Elaine might have had something to do with the size of those waves. I knew I’d go through with the task before me, but I sure wasn’t in any hurry.
We wandered past a couple of rows of booths until I saw the Los Angeles Rideshare banner. Brie was there alone, and she waved when she saw me trudge up with Deedee. She stood behind a table filled with various brochures as well as key chains, pens, antenna balls, and other cheap, crappy plastic items with our logo on them.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see her.
“Elaine got that flu that’s going around. I’d told her any time she wanted me to fill in for her I’d be glad to. I get paid time and a half.”
Just then, who should walk up to join Brie but Martucci—carting a box, which he set with a thud on the table. “Hey, Parker,” he said, looking me up and down. “You here to work?”
“Do I look like I’m here to work?” I wore an oversize shirt as a swimsuit cover-up and was still holding the boogie board.
“How the hell would I know? But if you’re here to work, I’ve got more boxes that need hauling. Brie here’s afraid she’ll break a nail.”
“I just got ’em done,” she explained, holding up her nails, which were each painted with tiny flowers.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said without sincerity to Martucci. “I’m just stopping by.”
When I introduced them to Deedee, Brie exclaimed, “So this is your Little Sister! We’ve heard so much about you. Hold on—” She reached into the box Martucci had brought to hand Deedee a logo pen with a tip like a lava lamp that changed colors as you clicked it. “This is for you. I’m only giving the good stuff to friends.”
“Cool,” Deedee said, clicking. “Thanks.”
Brie turned to Martucci. “How about you go get that box with the T-shirts? I’ll bet this girl would like one of those.”
“Jesus, you women think I’m a plow horse,” he groused. “You know, Elaine pulls her own weight when she’s working with me.”
“That’s because she doesn’t have my skills. My job is to attract customers,” Brie said. “I can’t do that if my nails are all nasty.”
He looked wearily at Deedee. “What size you want?”
“Large?” she replied.
He left, muttering something under his breath. When he was out of earshot, I said, “Forget time and a half. If you’re forced to work with him, they ought to pay triple your hourly rate.”
“What—you don’t like Martucci?”
“You do?”
“He’s all right.”
“I just hate the way he sucks up to Lizbeth. And that rattail braid of his is so gross. He’s always feeling it.”
“He’s probably scared it might’ve crawled away,” Brie said. “Anyway, I figure I can get him to pick up hoagie sandwiches when he gets back. All this standing here is making me starved. You want a hoagie?”
“I’ll pass.” Although it occurred to me that if I ate something big, I’d have an excuse to wait thirty minutes before going in the water.
Brie turned her attention to Deedee. “So, hon, you got yourself a boyfriend?”
I couldn’t believe she’d ask her such a prying question right off. I expected Deedee to do the clamshell imitation I knew so well, but she made a noise like pbbbbt and rolled her eyes as if to say, Boys.
“I know that face,” Brie said, nodding wisely. “Go on, tell Mama Brie all about it. Who’s the bum, and what’d he do?”
“Carlos,” she answered, as if saying “dog turd.”
“Mm-hmm…”
“And he all says he likes me, that I’m hot and all that…”
“I know that one.”
“And then I find out he’s going out with…” She paused because it was clearly too awful to say. “Theresa.”
I cut in. “Theresa from the movies?”
“Yeah. He was there that day, which she conveniently forgot to mention.”
Brie shook her head in disgust. “You don’t want Carlos anyway. He’s a fool, going for a skank like Theresa. You know what I think?” She leaned over and pulled the oversize tank top Deedee wore snug against her. “You got a cute little figure there. You oughta dress real sexy and show that Carlos what he’s missing. I got some clothes that I don’t wear anymore. They’re small on me, but I’ll bet they’d fit you real nice. How about if I give them to June to pass on to you? You can keep anything you like and throw away what you don’t.”
Deedee wearing Brie’s castoffs? Her bright and tight Lycra and spandex? That was good for a laugh! That was about as likely as—
“Sure.” Deedee beamed. “You got stuff like what you’re wearing now?”
“This old thing?” Brie wore a fuchsia tank top over matching short-shorts. “Oh, way better.”
Well, isn’t that swell? In five minutes she’d managed to do more bonding with Deedee than I had in over a month. Although it was nice to see Deedee open up, even if it wasn’t to me. At least it was in my general vicinity.
“Hey, I almost forgot,” Brie said to me. “That traffic reporter guy stopped by to see if you were here. Trey…?”
“Troy Jones?”
“Yeah, that’s it. He said he’s here with K-JAM helping with the beach cleanup. Oh, speaking of that, watch this.” She crumpled a brochure and tossed it into the sand. Within seconds, two children holding trash bags ran up and began to fight over who got there first to pick it up. “Works every time! I guess they got more people showing up to pick up trash than they got trash.”
Deedee appeared delighted, but I was busy looking for Troy Jones. Hopefully he was gone by now. I didn’t need him nosing around while I attempted to check a task off the list—especially one that required so little clothing on my part. “I hope Martucci gets back with that T-shirt soon. We should get going,” I said.
Brie eyed the boogie board. “Looks like you’ve got some fun planned. By the way, we still on for tomorrow night?”
“Yep.” Brie was going to accompany me to the Oasis bar so I could cross off another task.
“You still buying?”
“Yep.”
We chatted a bit longer until Martucci returned, chucking a box onto the sand this time. Then he rifled through it and tossed a T-shirt at Deedee. “There you go,” he said. “Wear it proudly.”
“Thanks.” She held it up to inspect it. “It’s cute.”
“You think that shirt’s cute,” Brie said, “you ought to see what I picked out for June to wear for tomorrow. Hoo-ee, it’s nice. The top’s this silvery blue, real shiny, you know? And it’s got these sparkly things right along the—”
“Okay, then!” I interrupted, not wanting Brie to elaborate in front of Martucci as to the location of those sparkly things.
Too late. “Along the what, exactly?” he asked a bit too innocently, his gaze dropping to indicate he was making a pretty good guess.
“We’ll be leaving now,” I said, trying to ignore him, but Brie, clueless, gestured across her chest as an answer.
“Nice,” Martucci said. “So what’s going on tomorrow?”
“Girls’ night out,” Brie replied. I began to worry she might start talking about the list, but she simply said, “We’re going to this bar called Oasis. That’s the name of it, right, June? Oasis?” I nodded, and she continued, “Anyway, the guys there are going to have to pick up their tongues off the floor when June here walks in. She’s definitely going to be…” She paused to give me an exaggerated wink. “The hottest girl there.”
Okay, shoot me now. I wasn’t sure who was more amused by Brie’s carrying on about me being hot, Martucci or Deedee. Luckily, an actual customer approached, preventing Brie from inflicting any further humiliation. I grabbed our beach stuff and said a quick good-bye, and Deedee and I started the trek to the water before I lost my nerve.
Although I had done a fair amount of body surfing in my day, I’d never surfed on a boogie board. I may be a California girl by birth, but I grew up in the Valley, land of air-conditioning and outdoor pools. Anyone who’s ever been in Van Nuys during an August heat wave would understand how Valley girls earned such a reputation for hanging out at the mall. It’s shop or melt. And the beach—the beautiful, breezy beach that was over the hill and a forty-five-minute drive away—may as well have been a thousand miles for my parents’ willingness to drive us there. (Although I have to admit, now living in Santa Monica, it’s embarrassing how few times I’ve made the short trip to the beach myself.)
Chase had given me pointers when I’d stopped by Susan’s to borrow their boogie board. He’d told me to paddle out to where the waves crash. Wait until one is about to break, lie on the board, then paddle like crazy and ride it gloriously into shore. “Wait for your wave,” he’d advised, as if I had any idea what that meant.
I set down our towels. I wore a blue flowered two-piece bathing suit from last season—one of the few I could find with a bottom that actually covered a bottom and an underwire on the top. If I’d known at the time how precious and rare this combination would turn out to be—as I bitterly discovered when I tried and failed to buy a new suit in the current season—I’d have bought the shop out of them. Sure, my bare stomach wasn’t perfectly flat. But big deal. I’ve seen women flaunt plenty worse on my bus ride to and from work. Whoever came up with the idea that Los Angeles was filled with tight bodies honed to perfection obviously never rode public transportation.
I grabbed the boogie board. The waves weren’t quite the size of billboards, but they appeared ominous enough to a coward like me. Deedee had made good on her promise not to go in the water, settling on her towel.
“You coming to cheer me on?” I asked.
“I’ll go up to my ankles,” she said, snatching a bag of Doritos to bring with her. “But don’t be thinking I’m going any deeper.”
Maybe the girl was on to something—the water was so cold that I got brain freeze the second I dipped my feet in. Deedee said, “This isn’t so bad.” Which, of course, was easy for her to say, not being the one about to go in full-body. It figured: The one time I didn’t put something off was the one time it would have been wise to do so. Surely the water would be warmer come summer. Too late now, though: I was committed.
It took me a while to swim out with the board, what with my limbs being numb. Plus every time a wave came, it pushed me back. Eventually—huffing and groaning and cursing the fact that I never finished that junior lifesaving course at the Y back in eighth grade—I made it out past the break, where I gave catching a wave a few tries. The technique I established was to find a wave, fall off the board, and get buried alive in the water, the boogie board attached to my wrist banging into me.
Although growing weary, I dragged my tired body out again and again. I was about to call it a day (after all, the list only said try boogie boarding; there was nothing on it about going pro) when I saw what I was sure was my wave swelling gloriously behind me. Right before it hit, I realized I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. This wasn’t a wave at all. It was the Chrysler Building. It was Mount Kilimanjaro. It was the Great Wall of China—only standing on its end a thousand miles high and about to come crashing down on me.
Which it did—pummeling me and sending me spinning and tossing so I couldn’t tell which was up or down. I hit sand hard a few times but was dragged back up…or down…or any direction but toward air. Lungs bursting, I made myself follow the instructions the lifeguards used to tell us—not to fight the wave. Just as I did that, it spat me with my board crudely and unceremoniously onto the shore.
There I lay, splayed on the sand, gasping for air, scraped and sputtering.
I heard a man’s voice say in disgust, “Watch out for the big lady, Tommy. Don’t step on the big lady.” A pair of toddler’s feet stepped neatly over my head.
Nice. I quit.
I unleashed myself from the board and was about to pull myself up when two more feet appeared. “You okay?”
That voice sounded familiar. I looked up—it was Troy Jones. I yanked myself to my feet, trying to brush the sand off me. It encrusted my face. I was human sandpaper. My swimsuit bottom felt like a full diaper. “I’m fine.”
“That was one helluva ride. A bit rough on the dismount.”
“I was hoping for style points.” Sand fell from my brow into my eye. Trying to restore my dignity, I said as breezily as I could manage, “How’s the garbage cleanup going?”
“Good. Not enough garbage to go around, though.”
Deedee walked up. “You should go under the pier. That’s where the good stuff is. My girlfriend Janelle said she once found a bag of crystal meth under there.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. More sand fell.
“Troy,” I said, attempting to change the subject and use the moment of distraction to pull the back of my swimsuit to dump some of the sand, “this is Deedee, a friend of mine. Deedee, this is Troy.”
Troy put out his hand to shake hers, and Deedee took it, giving him a slow once-over. He wore a K-JAM T-shirt and shorts, and she must have approved of what she saw because she bore the same expression she had at the movie theater—shame at her association with the likes
of me. “You know, June don’t always look this bad.”
“Thanks,” I said, sneering.
She attempted to straighten my hair, which was matted on one side and lifting like a bird in flight on the other. “Okay, so it’s not so good now. But tomorrow night she’s going out, and she’s gonna be bangin’. Go on, tell him how hot you’ll be.”
Troy grinned. “Yes…do.”
“For real!” Deedee continued. “Those guys at this Oasis place aren’t going to know what hit ’em.”
“I clean up nicely,” I said, deadpan.
“Did you say Oasis?” Troy asked.
I nodded. “It’s a little bar over on—”
“Yeah,” he said, “I know it. Used to go there with my sister once in a while. She had a crush on the bartender.”
I pulled a soggy candy bar wrapper from my hair and, disgusted, tossed it on the ground. A boy shouted, “I got it!” and ran over to pick it up and put it in his trash bag. Deedee then chucked her empty Doritos bag on the beach and watched in delight as the same thing happened. “I want to see what other garbage we got. This is fun.”
After she left, Troy said, “So, you a big fan of boogie boarding?”
“Never did it before.”
“Any reason you decided to try it today?”
Sand kept falling in my eyes, and I feared it appeared as if I were winking. “I see we’re also going fishing today.” When he gave me a curious look, I said, “As in fishing to see if this might be something from the list?”
“Was I that obvious?”
“That’s okay. And yes, it is.”
He gazed out at the ocean for a moment and then asked, “Did you catch any good waves?”
The Next Thing on My List Page 9