March Heat

by Chase Jackson

  I rolled my eyes and glanced down at Beck, who looked less than amused.

  “You two catch up,” she said, “I’m going to go grab a drink from the bar.”

  “Oh, Olivia, while you’re there, can you get me a--” Hayden tried to call after her, but she was already stomping across the astroturf lawn.

  “Yikes,” he turned back to me. “So you’re really a one woman man now?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, watching Beck as she made her way to the bar. “Yeah, I am.”

  “She must have a 24 karat gold pussy,” Hayden whistled.

  My eyes flicked to him and I glared.

  “Dude, chill,” he held up his hands. “I just mean that there must be something special about her, if she convinced Duke Williams to get wifed up.”

  She sure was fucking special. Memories from last night swam through my head. Beck was like a jungle, and there was still so much of her to explore.

  I felt my dick twitch in my chinos. I couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel room so I could push her dress up over her hips--

  “But I guess the real question is: what the hell does she see in you?”

  I snapped back into the conversation and glanced at Hayden.

  “No offence,” he added quickly, “But you’re as broke as a joke.”

  “Yeah, well Beck doesn’t give a shit about money,” I shrugged. I added silently: unlike everyone else at this party…

  “What’s in it for her?” Hayden raised an eyebrow, then he added jokingly: “Your bank account was one of your only redeeming qualities!”

  It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, and I glared directly into Hayden’s eyes.

  “Money isn’t everything,” I shrugged. “Just look at you: you’ve got a seven-figure trust fund and you’re still an insufferable little prick.”

  Hayden’s jaw slumped open and he rubbed his palm over his cheek as if I’d just slapped him. Glaring into his face, part of me still expected to see the childhood friend that I had practically grew up with. But instead, all I saw was a stranger.

  “You were never a friend to me,” I realized out loud, shaking my head with disgust. “Have a nice life, Hayden.”

  I started to walk away, then I spun back around:

  “Oh, and by the way,” I added, “If you so much as think about my girlfriend’s pussy again, I won’t be the only guy leaving this party with a black eye.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | OLIVIA

  “What can I pour for you, miss?” the bartender asked, waving his white-gloved hand towards an assortment of glass wine bottles that were arranged over oblong pellets of ice in a silver Moët & Chandon bucket on the bar.

  “Actually… you don’t happen to have beer, do you?”

  “I’m sorry, no,” he snipped with a snobby smile that wasn’t sorry at all. “This is the Southhampton tent, miss.”

  I must have looked confused, because he sighed and explained:

  “We only serve wine in the Southhampton tent. If you want beer, you can visit the Fire Island tent.”

  He pointed towards a separate white tent that was set up at the opposite end of the yard. The tent’s designation as ‘Fire Island’ was spelled out on wood-carved sign that was staked into the fake green grass.

  Oh.

  I had already picked up on the fact that each of the white tents assembled around the lawn had been named after a local beach or village. Besides the Southampton and Fire Island tents, there was also Montauk, Sag Harbor and Sagaponack. The one outlier was the main event tent; in a clear nod to Gatsby, the white fortress had been unironically dubbed ‘West Egg.’

  I hadn’t realized that the tents were segregated by drink of choice, but now, as I followed the bartender’s gesture across the yard towards Fire Island, I realized that it was actually pretty damn obvious.

  The designated ‘beer tent’ might as well have had a sign posted at the entrance that read, ‘Boys Club! No Girls Allowed!’ The whole tent was teaming with overgrown frat boys dressed in pastel polo shirts and boat shoes. Some particularly dubious looking douchebags dressed in crisp white tennis sweaters had formed a circle to shotgun beer cans, but they all stopped to stare as one of the bikini-clad models walked along the outside perimeter of the tent.

  That’s not the place for me, I decided. I turned back to the bar and scanned the selection of wines that were displayed in the ice bucket.

  Southampton must be the ‘Expensive Wines With Names That Nobody Can Pronounce’ tent… I thought darkly.

  I was still trying to locate a wine that I could order when out of nowhere a flash of pastel swooped beside me. I glanced up and saw a tall, tan blonde dressed in a slinky pastel pink dress.

  I know her from somewhere… I realized, frowning as I tried to place her face.

  She leaned her elbows forward on the bar and flicked back a curtain of platinum blonde hair, then bowed her head over iPhone.

  “Can I get a glass of rosé?” she barked to the bartender without glancing up. Her words were harsh and slurred, and when she adjusted her stance on the fake grass, she stumbled forward against the bar.

  Unperturbed, the bartender fished a bottle out of the ice bucket and began pouring pink wine into a glass.

  I was still trying to figure out why the blonde woman looked so familiar, when suddenly she glanced over her shoulder and glared at me. For a split second, she looked indifferent. Then I saw a flash of recognition light up across her face, and her lips twisted into a menacing grin.

  “Wow,” she chuckled. “I can’t fucking believe this…”

  I frowned, confused.

  “You’re the roommate, aren’t you?” she asked. “I can’t believe he actually brought you here…”

  As soon as she said the word ‘roommate,’ I realized why I recognized her. She was Duke’s ‘friend.’

  Well this is fucking awkward...

  My mind immediately jolted back to that night at the apartment, when I had found her and Duke sitting on the leather couch. Duke had been trying to confide in her, and she had shut him down.

  I remembered trying so hard to be disgusted with Duke that night. But I just… couldn’t. Instead of seeing some playboy trying to get his dick wet, I saw a vulnerable and human side of Duke; I just saw a guy who was desperate for some sort of human connection.

  The bartender glanced at me as he slid a glass across the bar. The blonde woman cradled the glass in her hand and took a giant gulp, then glared back at me.

  “What’s your name again?” she asked. “It’s a guy’s name, right? Bob? Ben? Bill--”

  “Beck.”

  “Beck,” she repeated, scrunching her nose up in a cutesy-grin, as if I was a child who had just recited my ABCs. “I’m Brie Wallace. But I’m sure you already know that…”

  Actually, I didn’t.

  I turned back to the bartender: “Can I please have a glass of anything but the rosé?”

  The bartender glared at me, but he silently reached into the ice bucket and grabbed a bottle of wine at random.

  “Well aren’t you a pistol!” the woman made a fake laugh, then the strained grin on her face faded into a sneer and her eyes trailed down, inspecting me.

  My heart hammered against my chest and my skin started to itch under my white linen sundress. Under the harsh scrutiny of her eyes, I was suddenly reminded of how strange and unfamiliar it all felt; the make up, the dress…

  “Look at you,” she wrinkled her nose in disdain. “You aren’t even his type.”

  I glanced down and suddenly saw my flaws through her eyes: I saw the loose thread on my dress. I saw my unpainted nails. I saw how flat and stupid my feet looked in a pair of plain sandals, compared her perfect pink stilettos...

  I pinched my eyes shut and I remembered how Duke had responded when he first saw me. I remembered the look on his face. He had told me that I was beautiful, and his lips hadn’t twitched at all; no poker face, just the truth.

  Duke thinks I’m beautifu
l...

  My veins flooded with fire, and heat ravaged through the knots of insecurity that had twisted in my gut. I smirked and shrugged my shoulders triumphantly:

  “But here I am.”

  Her face darkened with hatred, and I braced myself for anger. But instead, she laughed.

  “You actually think you’re something special, huh? You think you’re different?” she snorted. “Don’t get it twisted, honey. Everyone knows why you’re really here--”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said firmly.

  She had started to guzzle another sip of wine, but she nearly spat it out when she heard me.

  “Oh God!” she wiped the wine from her lips. “You’re defending him! You actually fell for his shit, didn’t you?!”

  I pursed my lips together.

  Just ignore her… I told myself. Nothing good can come from this...

  “You think you have Duke Williams all figured out, don’t you?” she shook her head in amusement. “Do you feel sorry for him? Is that it? Did he tell you all those sad little sob stories about his childhood? Duke Williams, the poor little rich boy...”

  My pulse was hammering through my temples and I saw waves of red cloud my vision. I was furious. I wanted to defend Duke; I wanted to tell her that she was wrong…

  The bartender slid a glass of wine across the bar towards me. I gripped my fingers around the stem and forced myself to take a sip.

  “He has you wrapped around his little finger,” she continued. “I bet you actually believe that he cares about you… don’t you?”

  “He does care,” I insisted. “He’s the most caring person that I know.”

  “Oh, honey…” Brie pouted her lips as if she pitied me. “Here’s the thing: Duke doesn’t care about anybody but himself. I know it. Everyone at this party knows it. Even his own fucking parents can’t stand to be in the same room as him.”

  “That’s not true,” my voice wavered.

  “Oh really?” She tried to take a sly step towards me, but she stumbled and rolled over the heel of her stilettos. Waves of pink rosé sloshed around in her glass.

  “You can lie to yourself all you want, Beck,” she said. “But the truth is, Duke doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you. And he sure as hell doesn’t love you. He’s incapable.”

  I wanted to get away. I wanted to find Duke.

  I glanced over my shoulder, looking at the place where I had left him with that creepy friend of his. But instead of Duke, I saw a pair of botox-masked rich women chattering as they sipped white wine.

  My eyes darted around the tent, searching for Duke.

  Where did he go?!

  “What’s the matter? Did you lose your little boyfriend?”

  She laughed drunkenly and took another step towards me, leering so close that I could see the fault lines in her crinkly coral-colored lip gloss.

  “He’s probably fucking someone else as we speak,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “I always knew that stupid ultimatum wouldn’t be enough to change him…”

  I froze and frowned.

  “Ultimatum?”

  Her eyes flicked down to me, and she raised one of her penciled-on eyebrows.

  “The ultimatum,” she repeated. “From his parents? Come on, you must know about that. It’s the whole reason he brought you here in the first place.”

  My pulse pounded against my hot red cheeks. She studied the confused expression on my face, then she burst out laughing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! You really don’t know about that?!” she gulped between laughs. “Wow. This is a new low, even for Duke!”

  She downed the rest of her wine, then she slammed the glass down on the bar and waved her wrist at the bartender, gesturing for a refill. I stood perfectly still, waiting. She glanced at me and rolled her eyes.

  “When his parents cut him off financially, they gave him an ultimatum,” she explained hastily. “They gave him one year to settle down and get his life on track. If he managed to get his shit together, he’d get his trust fund back. If not, he’d be disinherited permanently.”

  I wrinkled my face in confusion. Duke never mentioned any of this…

  “Duke still hasn’t cleaned up his act, and now that year is almost up,” she said, eyeing me gleefully. “You’re here as his last-ditch effort.”

  “What?”

  “He’s using you to prove to his parents that he’s a changed man.”

  She’s making this up, I tried to convince myself. Duke wouldn’t use me like that… there’s no way!

  “That’s not true…” I tried to insist, but I could hear the lack of conviction in my own voice.

  “Of course it’s true! Do you think he’s actually happy with the way he’s living now? Duke has been desperate to get that money back since the day they cut him off.”

  I shook my head. Duke had told me about his strained relationship with his parents, but the focus had never been about money. All Duke wanted was parents that cared. At least, I thought that’s what he wanted...

  “How did you not know about this?! Why did you think he brought you here?!”

  I forced myself to ignore her as I glanced around the tent again frantically, trying to locate Duke. I needed to know the truth, and he was the only person in this room that I could trust. I wanted to hear this from him…

  “You don’t need to take my word for it,” she smirked. “Just you wait and see. As soon as the money comes flowing back in, he’ll forget all about you! You’ll just be another tick-mark in his little black book…”

  I sucked in my breath when I spotted Duke across the room.

  She’s wrong about him, I decided. There’s no way he would--

  But before I could even finish that thought, I realized that Duke wasn’t alone; a man and a woman stood on either side of him. The woman looked thin and stern. She was wearing an immaculate white shift dress and her hair was pulled into a tight nub at the base of her neck. The man looked tired and pale, like an older version of Duke.

  “Speak of the devil!” Brie snickered. “There’s Duke now! And he’s with his parents!”

  Those are his parents...

  I watched Duke interact with his parents. He was explaining something, and he was using his hands to gesture enthusiastically. His mother listened with a stiff expression on her face, and his father nodded thoughtfully.

  What was he telling them? Was he telling them… about me?!

  “You should get over there,” Brie sneered. “You have a role to play, after all.”

  She tried to take another step towards me, but she was too damn drunk. She stumbled forward, and she flung her arms out to catch herself. The rosé sloshed out of her glass and soared through the air, straight towards me. Before I could jerk away, the rosé wave pelted my dress.

  My eyes flicked down to see the streak of pink wine that had stained the white linen fabric.

  I was still staring at the damage when I became acutely aware of how silent the tent had gone. I raised my head slowly, and I realized that everyone in tent had stopped to stare at Brie and I.

  My skin prickled with goosebumps, and I felt the heat of hundreds of eyes burning into me from all directions.

  “Oops!” Brie giggled, then she hiccupped dramatically. A nervous chuckle fluttered through the crowd, and it was clear that I had just been made into the butt of this joke.

  I glanced over my shoulder and I saw Duke and his parents blinking at me. His mouth was hanging open and there was a concerned expression on his face. I just shook my head slowly, then I bolted.

  As soon as I made it out of the tent, I broke into a run. I ducked and weaved my way through the crowd until I reached the edge of the fake grass lawn.

  As the yard sloped towards the beach, the terrain turned to sand. Eventually it got too difficult to run, and I had to stop to kick off my sandals. I leaned forward to pick them up, and that’s when I heard my name:

  “Beck! Wait!”

&
nbsp; I spun around and saw Duke running after me. I stood up slowly, frozen as he closed the distance between us. His white sneakers were getting filthy from running through the sand, and he was out of breath.

  “Beck…” he panted, keeling forward and clutching his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Is there an ultimatum?” I demanded.

  “What?!” His eyes flicked up to me. In the summer sun they looked honey brown.

  “Brie told me that your parents gave you an ultimatum,” I said. “One year to settle down and get your life together. Is that true?”

  He blinked up at me silently as he stood up and straightened his back, then he tried to take a step towards me. I took a step further away from him.

  “Beck--”

  “Tell me,” I demanded. “Is it true?!”

  “Yes, they gave me a stupid ultimatum,” he said. “But--”

  “Is that why you brought me here? Is that why you offered to pay me to be your date?”

  “Beck--”

  “Answer the fucking question!”

  “That was the reason at first,” he said. “But that changed, Beck! I wanted to--”

  I didn’t need to hear anything else. I shook my head and turned on my heel, and then I ran.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | DUKE

  I could tell that something wasn’t right as soon as I twisted my key into the lock and pushed open the door.

  The apartment felt so… vacant.

  There was an eerie stillness and silence that bounced between the walls. The air felt stale and unlived in.

  Something wasn’t right.

  “Beck?”

  My footsteps drummed through the wooden floor and my keys clattered loudly when I dropped them onto the kitchen countertop.

  “Beck, are you here?”

  I stood perfectly still as I waited for her voice to respond, but the only thing I heard was the dull ringing of silence.

  Where the hell are you, Beck?!

  That same question had been spinning through my head for the last twenty-four hours.

  The last time I had seen Beck was when she ran away from me on the beach. I had chased after her, but my heavy canvas sneakers couldn’t tread sand the same way her bare feet could.