All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)

by Natasha Boyd

  That’s when my heart starts pounding with nerves, prickling cold sweat breaking out across my neck and forehead.

  There isn’t even a snack bar in the one room airport building. I could really use a shot or something. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

  “You got your camera?” Mom asks.

  I pat my backpack and think about Joey’s gift in there too.

  She walks me to the single metal detector that makes up the security section of the airport. I can see the small plane about two hundred yards away out the window. There are only nine or ten other passengers, and they are all sitting near the door out to the runway.

  “Okay, Mom. I guess I’ll go through and sit down for a bit.”

  “You’ll be sitting for the next thirty-six hours.”

  “I’ll be sure to walk around while I’m in transit.”

  “You do that.”

  I draw my mom into a hug, holding her close and breathing into her hair. Her sweet floral perfume invades my senses. “I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything you did for me. For getting me here.”

  She pulls back, tears filling her eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” I admonish. “We promised.”

  “I know.” She laughs and hiccups, the tears spilling over anyway. “It’s good crying. I’m so proud of you.”

  “You know what? I’m proud of you too, Mom.”

  We hug again.

  “Jazz!”

  I spin around and see Joey wrestling with a revolving door.

  “What the hell?” I whisper.

  “Is that Joseph Butler?” Mom asks.

  “Yes. But I have no idea what he’s doing here.” He gets through the door, out of breath and smiling. Smiling? He’s wearing his jeans and dirty white Vans and a grey t-shirt. His hair is all over the place. He’s dressed up for the occasion, clearly.

  He stalks toward us. “I fucking hate those doors.”

  “An airport scene, Joseph?” I greet him. “Really?”

  “Our love story needs one, don’t you think?”

  “We have a love story?” I ask.

  “Don’t we?”

  “Ma’am,” says the Butler Cove High School girl. “You need to come through security. Oh hey, you’re Joey Butler.”

  He grins at her. “Yeah, I am. Oh hey. Miss McCallister’s class. Missy, right?”

  “Yes. Missy Meyer.” She laughs. “You moved back here?”

  “Helloooo,” I interrupt. “Our love story, Joey?” Suck on that Missy Meyer.

  “Oh yeah. Okay wait. This first.” He swoops forward and kisses me. Then just as abruptly lets me go.

  “And then?” I ask bemused.

  “You have to go through security for the next part.”

  “What?”

  “Just go.”

  “Okay, but for the record that was the lamest last kiss ever.”

  “Ugh, okay.” He rolls his eyes and steps into me. In classic Jay Bird style, he slips a hand around my waist and the other along my jaw and into my hair. He tilts my face up to his. His eyes are vivid and beautiful as his gaze roams my face. Then when my heart is pounding hard, and my lips tingling, he drops his mouth to mine. Immediately his tongue slips inside and I moan. Oh wow.

  I return his kiss, winding my fingers up into his hair.

  “You mother is standing right here, Jessica,” my mom’s voice breaks through my haze.

  I reluctantly pull away.

  Joey is smiling down at me.

  “Why are you so happy? I’m leaving.”

  “Because you’re coming back.”

  “I am?”

  He nods. “Go do your thing. Find your thing that matters. Take however long you need. But we’re not done yet. I’m going to give us a different ending.”

  I close my eyes and a kiss lands on my nose.

  He releases me and turns to my mom. “Hi, Mrs. Fraser. Sorry for my rudeness. I was in a time crunch.”

  My mom pats his arm.

  I shake my head and give her one last hug. I hurry through the security procedure. It’s also given by this Missy Meyer girl. Seriously. This airport. Then she heads to the gate to be the gate attendant too.

  “Jessica Fraser!” Joey yells as soon as I’m through. He’s curved his hands around his mouth to really amplify his voice, even though we’re in, like, the smallest space ever.

  Passengers turn around.

  I glare at him, mortified. Seeing he has my attention he puts his hands around his mouth again.

  “I love you!” he yells. “Come back to me one day!”

  I hear audible swooning and sighing around me. Even from the male passengers.

  Gah.

  Then his hands drop from around his mouth, and he puts one on his chest. He just smiles. It’s blinding and beautiful and I’ll never forget it. I honestly can’t even believe this is the same cocky, distant, overbearing guy I grew up with. Who is this guy, laying his heart on the line in public?

  I wish I’d known him before.

  As I walk away, I hear my mom’s voice talking to him. “You know she’s only going for three months, right?”

  Goddammit, Mom.

  Way to fuck up my exit.

  I WAIT UNTIL I’ve changed planes in Charlotte, North Carolina, and I’m buckled into my seat in a much larger plane on the way to Amsterdam before I delve into my backpack for Joey’s gift. I’ll be in Amsterdam for the day until I have to board another overnight flight. I know he was expecting me to open it on the first flight and maybe text him from Charlotte. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  I’m glad because I’m feeling homesick already, and the thought that I might open the present and go running home was a clear and present danger.

  The flight attendant comes around taking orders for fish or chicken and handing out wine. I gratefully accept, even though when I see the size of the bottle I want to ask her for five more. Then I set the small brown box down in front of me on the tray table and pull the two ends of pink ribbon.

  Opening the box, I take out a small folded note. Underneath is a pale grey felt pouch, like the kind a jeweler might use. I open the note first.

  This was impossible to find. In the end, I had it made. This is to remind you you’re still in there somewhere. That girl you were? You’re still her. Not even an asshat like me could change that.

  Stay true to what you want, Jazzy Bear. Don’t change your plans for anyone. Including me.

  But I will always love you.

  Maybe, if you come back to me, I’ll let you know what I really said to Bethany Winters that day she tripped you outside school. It was the first day I saw you. You had hair of silk and sunlight and a laugh that moved my soul.

  I’ll never forget it.

  Jay Bird

  I don’t even know what the present is, and I have tears sliding down my face. Luckily, I’m sandwiched between an older guy snoring and half a window. And thank the baby Jesus I waited to open this when I was in a tiny metal cylinder above the Atlantic and not still on American soil in a building with an exit and only one state away from him.

  Shit.

  Turns out I am “that girl.” You know? The one who’ll change her plans for a guy.

  Except, I’m not.

  Not really.

  I want to run to the pilot and tell him to turn the plane around, but even if that was a viable option, I know I wouldn’t do it. I actually have a choice to do it or not. I feel a sense of peace knowing that.

  I’m heading to the last place I ever heard from my father. I want to see it for myself. I want to experience something new, something so different than the world I grew up in. And I plan to document my entire experience in word and picture from beginning to end. And then? Then I’ll be done. I love photography. But it doesn’t consume me like it obviously consumed my father. There’s a relief in knowing that too.

  I open my tiny bottle of wine, pour some in the plastic cup and take a sip.

  Then I open the pouch and slide
the contents into my palm.

  A thin silver chain slithers out, with a charm attached.

  It’s a boot. A pink, sparkly, enamel, cowgirl boot, set in silver.

  I huff out a breath of surprise as I stare at it.

  I can’t believe he remembered the pink sparkle cowgirl boots box I kept on the boat. The box that had held physical remnants of my relationship with my father. And of course, the memory of the little girl who’d worn pink sparkly cowgirl boots on her feet until they’d fallen apart.

  Again, I congratulate myself on my decision to wait on opening the damn gift. With shaking hands, I fumble the clasp and get it around my neck. It takes about seventeen tries and an elbow into the chin of the snoring man next to me, who weirdly doesn’t even flinch. I finally get it on. The length of the chain puts the boot next to my heart. Okay fine, it’s nestled right in my cleavage. Same thing.

  I fish out my phone and take a cleavage selfie, making sure to use my arms to pad my boobs a bit closer together and perkier looking. I also make sure to see a bit of my bra and of course to keep my blubbering tear-stained face out of it. It’ll be the one and only thing I send to Joseph for three months.

  “You need me to take the boob shot?” the guy next to me offers.

  “Jesus,” I squeak, nearly jumping out of my skin. “You were sleeping.”

  “And now, I’m awake. It’s hard to sleep with all this crying and ‘angst-ing’ going on next to me. And also, the elbow. I didn’t appreciate the elbow.”

  “You always ask girls half your age for boob shots?”

  “No. I’m gay, sweetheart.”

  “Oh. And I’m sorry about the elbowing. And the ‘angst-ing’ or whatever.”

  “No sweat. These sleeping pills are for shit anyway. My boyfriend stole the good stuff out of my travel bag for his last trip.”

  I raise my plastic cup. “We could just drink ourselves to sleep. I’m Jessica, by the way,” I add, reinventing myself on a whim.

  “I’m Allen.” He points to my cup. “It’s a plan. So where are you headed?”

  “Cape Town.”

  “No shit. Me too. Moved there last year. I’m in advertising, I own my own business. We shoot a whole ton of commercials in Cape Town. Fell in love with the place. So instead of living in Charlotte and visiting down there nine months out of twelve, now I live there and go home three months out of twelve.”

  “That’s awesome.” I’m super impressed by this. Someone just willing to move countries like that. “No offense, but there’s got to be a faster way than via Amsterdam, right?”

  He proceeds to discuss the merits of various airlines and cities. He loves Amsterdam, so loves to stop there and leave the airport to have lunch in the city and visit the Van Gogh museum.

  That sounds like a blast, so I totally wrangle an invitation to join him.

  And about midway across the Atlantic, I have the next three months of my life in Cape Town planned out, not forgetting lunch the next day. And I’m so glad I didn’t let a boy change my mind, even if my heart is still aching in my chest.

  Hopefully, Joseph will still be where I left him when I get back.

  Besides, I really do want to know what he said to Bethany Winters that day.

  THE SMALL PLANE jolts, and I bang my head on the window where I was watching the Lowcountry marshes come into view. Wincing, I pull away and rub my brow.

  Returning to Butler Cove after a whole year feels nerve-wracking. I’m changed inside by my time away. And I know my deliberate and prolonged absence means other things may have changed too.

  I’m nervous about that.

  Joseph and I have only stayed in touch sporadically with a few random texts. I was glad he hadn’t sent a bunch of ‘I’m sorry’s. I knew he was. I was too. And the regret was somehow more powerful for its silence. He sent a birthday text right after I left, and then every major holiday since then. And the minor ones. President’s Day for example. I smile and roll my eyes at the memory.

  I was out on Allen and Dave’s boat enjoying a rare day off in South Africa’s midsummer. Their boat rivaled the one we’d spent the day on with Jack Eversea when we went over to Daufuskie to ride horses. I was sunbathing on the top deck, and my WhatsApp dinged with an incoming message.

  Jay Bird: Today on President’s Day, it’s winter and it’s depressing as all hell. So to really wallow, I decided to think of the ways I was disappointed by you. You already know my best image of you. But here’s the most disappointing one: You remember the day you jumped off the top of the boat into the Calibogue Sound? I was really hoping you’d lose your bikini top that day. I was extremely disappointed you didn’t flash me. I mean, you couldn’t have even flashed one? Just one boob?

  I grinned, brought my phone up and snapped a cleavage shot, not a nipple to be seen in my bikini top. I was still wearing my pink cowgirl boot necklace, so I hoped that made up for it.

  “Why do I always catch you taking pictures of your boobs?” Allen’s head emerged up to the top deck at exactly the wrong moment. “Are you sure you don’t want to give the poor guy just a whiff of nipple this time?”

  “No. Trust me. That would be even meaner.”

  “I disagree. I dare you.”

  I looked down to my balconette type bikini top. It wouldn’t work if it had been a triangle one. Too obvious. But I could maybe scoot one of these cups down ever so slightly. It was pretty low cut anyway. I’d have to put my face in the picture though, to make it really look accidental, otherwise he’d know what I was up to.

  “Okay,” I told Allen and handed him my phone. “Let’s do this.”

  I put my sunglasses on so I didn’t squint but let my hair down into a wild untamed mess, especially in the wind. Then I put my back to the magnificent view of Table Mountain behind us and tugged down one side of by bikini top.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” said Allen. “Don’t make me squeamish.”

  I burst out laughing, and he took the shot.

  Jay Bird: That’s just mean. You just took my breath away. And who the fuck took that picture?

  I had a split second of temptation to make him jealous, but I couldn’t do it.

  Jazzy Bear: He’s gay, twice my age and my second best friend in the whole world.

  A SMILE TUGS my mouth at the memory. The plane jolts again. Ugh. I hate small planes.

  I have an assistant manager position set up and waiting for me at one of the smaller resort hotels on Hilton Head Island. It’s a position I’ve been trying to zero in on for months. My experience in Cape Town the first three months, plus Allen’s contacts, landed me in one of Cape Town’s top luxury hotels. The Cape Grace. It was hard to make the decision to stay in Cape Town after being there my allotted three months, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure I was ready to see Joey again. And I knew I’d never have an opportunity like the one being offered again.

  I worked my butt off in the luxury hotel, a more high end establishment than anything Hilton Head Island had ever seen, earning a promotion in four months. Only then did I start applying for coveted positions back home. I applied, knowing I’d only go back for the right thing, and willing to keep living in Cape Town for as long as it took. As it happened, it didn’t take long.

  I absolutely adore Cape Town. I hope I’ll go back there to visit a lot. Especially for Allen and Dave’s wedding next January. But it turns out I’m really a Lowcountry girl at heart. I miss my friends. And I miss my mom. I miss the marshes, and I miss the dark soupy ocean that’s actually warm enough to swim in. The ocean in Cape Town is blue, clear, and beautiful. But also freezing. It is close to Antarctica after all. The penguins on Boulders Beach are cute, but they smell. And I miss looking for sea turtle nests.

  The day is so clear and we’re at just the right altitude that I can see for miles. Hilton Head Island comes into view ahead, and I trace the coastline south until I find Butler Cove Island nestled in just near Savannah. I spot the Tybee Island lighthouse in the distance. My eyes come back to Butler C
ove and my heart thuds heavily with happiness. Home.

  As soon as we land, my phone beeps with an incoming message from my mom. “Can’t wait to see you.”

  Smiling, I grab my carry on bag, smooth my shorter, shoulder length hair and head down the steps and out into the soggy humid heat. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but I love it.

  Entering the small airport building, my eyes adjusting from the bright sun outside, I’m greeted by cheers and whistles from Keri Ann and my mom. They’re holding a banner with the words, “Welcome Home, Jazz.”

  I laugh at them and drop my bag so I can grab them both into a massive hug. The banner crumples between us. “Hey, I worked hard on that,” Keri Ann grumbles.

  “Dork. Can’t believe you made a banner.” I shake my head, matching her grinning face.

  Mom is smiling and crying. I wrap her up in another hug. “I’ve missed you so much,” I tell her.

  “Don’t ever go away for that long again,” she answers me and pulls back. Her hands cup my cheeks. “I missed your beautiful face.”

  Keri Ann’s gaze wanders to the left and I turn my head.

  Joey.

  My heart lurches against my ribs.

  He’s standing off to the side, I don’t know when he came in. His arms are folded, his denim-clad legs apart, his head cocked to the side, his shaggy dark blond hair flopping across his forehead. His blue eyes are burning into me, his mouth looking like he’s fighting a smile.

  He looks the same. But different.

  “We’ll go look for your bags,” Keri Ann says, and I sense rather than see her and my mom back away.

  I take a few steps toward Joey.

  And he drops his arms and takes a few steps toward me.