by S. C. York
“The electrician is on his way to repair the faulty wiring. In the meantime, enjoy the view from Red 36 and have a fabulous lunch! When you get back… everything should be fixed,” I tell them brightly.
I’ve mastered the art of disguising my inner dialogues with pretty smiles when handling the tourists.
“It better be. Or I’ll want to speak to the manager.”
“I am the assistant manager on duty and I can assure you the problem is being taken care of.”
The man looks at me in disbelief. He clearly doubts someone my age can handle anything. I’m so tired of other adults looking at me, but still seeing a child.
They walk out angrily, slamming the lobby door behind them.
I pull up their reservation in our computer and type PITA in the notes. This code phrase will warn my co-workers on the next shift about them.
I look up from the screen as Lori, the head housekeeper, greets me. Tiny beads of sweat dot across her temples and a few wisps of hair have escaped from her bun, sticking to the side of her neck. She had just come down the stairs from the third floor. There’s no elevator here either. It’s another thing the tourists like to complain about.
She hands me the clipboard marking off the rooms that have been cleaned so I can enter the information into the computer in case we have any early check-ins.
“How’s the staff doing? I don’t want anyone to pass out washing laundry in the basement.”
She shrugs her shoulders and accepts what the wealthy couple who just left can’t.
Sometimes shit just happens.
“Here,” I tell her taking out a few bills from the petty cash box. “Go treat yourself and the rest of the housekeeping staff to some iced coffees.”
She smiles warmly at me, “Thanks Vanessa. You are the sweetest.”
I smile back.
Sometimes, it’s the small things that can make a difference in a person’s day.
Grabbing my purse, I dash out to the coffee shop that’s a block up. I’m not worried about leaving my post behind the counter for a few minutes since Anna, the new girl just punched in. I might as well let her answer the reservation lines that have been ringing non-stop. My phone buzzes in my hand. Unlocking it, I read a chain of texts from Eva and TJ.
Esker tonight! It’s finally here, TJ wrote.
I’m bringing the boxed wine, Eva replied.
Summer kick-off party starts in 5 hours baby! TJ responded.
I need a drink now! Major PITAS at the Inn!..., I type.
I’ve got you covered girlie :) Eva responds.
Smiling, I place my phone back in my bag and decide to walk down to the docks for some fresh air while I enjoy my iced coffee.
***
“I’ve waited all year for this.”
Sighing, I dig my toes into the warm sand as the scent of salt water and sunscreen hits me. My eyes track the movement of colorful sailboats bobbing up and down to the cadence of the waves.
“Nothing beats Esker Point Beach on a Thursday night,” Eva agrees, pouring more wine into my cup.
A car pulls into the lot behind us blaring Natural Mystic. Bob Marley’s classic song is a staple around here.
“Thanks—I needed this. It’s been a long day.”
“The tourists or you mother?”
“Take your pick,” I reply, downing the wine.
“She hates me.”
“Vanessa, your mother doesn’t hate you. She’s just jealous. When do you start your job in the city?”
“September.”
“You’ll survive. You just need thicker skin.” She slides her sunglasses on and scans the beach.
I’ve been dismissed.
Sitting back in my chair, I’m disappointed at how she always brushes off my feelings. I love her, but sometimes her frankness stings. I know Eva’s never been the warm and fuzzy type, but a little empathy every now and then wouldn’t hurt. Staring back out into The Long Island Sound, I sip my wine. My stress level decreases, with every cup she pours me.
***
I glance over to the swelling crowd and shake my head at the strange mix of people gathering. Families juggling children and beach chairs cross in the road. Biker gangs sporting leather and bandanas double-fist draft beer by the concession stand. Then there’s the preppy yacht club types wearing pressed plaid shirts and oxford loafers. They hang back afraid to be seen with the rest of us. Although, we are all different— we all share in the excitement that the first beach concert of the season brings. Thankfully, there are no tourists here since we’re a ten-minute drive out of town. This tiny sliver of sand tucked away behind a residential community is our sanctuary.
“We need to move soon,” Eva announces packing up our things.
I look over to the stage where the bass player strums out a few chords, finalizing his sound check. We always leave the families behind to find a spot by the band, where every Thursday at sunset, millennials like us invade the beach and turn it into an outdoor nightclub.
“Vanessa!”
“TJ!” My eyes light up seeing my oldest friend crossing the sand towards us. His real name is Tim, but he prefers the nickname that I gave him when we were kids. I’ve known TJ since before I was potty-trained. Our parents love telling us how we used to practice “going together.” Thank God neither of us remembers those days, but my mother won’t let them go. She takes out Polaroid pictures every Thanksgiving when we host him and his mom for dinner. I think our parents secretly still hope more develops from our friendship, but I’ll always see TJ as the brother that I never had.
He finally reaches us after winding through the sea of beach blankets, and sets a small cooler down in the sand and takes out the promised bottle of tequila.
“To our last summer together in Mystic—it’s going to be epic,” he says pouring the shots. I toss my head back and down mine in one swallow. I’ve never been much of a drinker but between Mom and the tourists—I’ve been on edge. Just for one night—I want to live in the moment and let loose like everyone else my age. I’m sure Mom is at home already preparing her next lecture anyway.
“Whoa—the two of you kicked an entire box of wine in thirty minutes?”
“Yep.” Eva answers him without looking up from her cooler. She grabs three Coronas and hands them out, “Are you guys ready?” Eva might be all business, but she’s fiercely loyal to me and TJ. When she moved to town in junior high school, she saved me from Wendy Smith and her posse. They picked on me relentlessly and I was reduced to hiding in the girl’s bathroom during lunch. But that all ended the day Eva found me.
I was huddled on the floor against the back wall of the bathroom, pathetically eating my sandwich. Eva took one look at me and muttered something in Spanish. She grabbed my arm, jammed a quarter into the feminine dispenser, and ordered me to follow her. And I did without question. She always was a natural leader. Eva marched right into the cafeteria holding the maxi pad high and yelled that she had a special delivery for Wendy. It took weeks before the boys stopped making fun of Wendy and I won’t lie—to this day it still makes me smile. Eva Cruz saved me from years of high school hell and she’s been my hero ever since.
She and TJ became friends shortly after, and the three of us have been inseparable ever since. Heck— we even went to Eastern Connecticut College where we just graduated together. There was no way a higher education was going to separate the three of us.
And just like I was when I was thirteen—I still follow her. As Eva leads us through the crowd, I try search for familiar faces but they are all blurry—I can’t focus.
I shouldn’t have accepted that last shot of tequila.
My sandal snags on the corner of a beach blanket causing me to stumble. Ice-cold beer spills from my bottle. The frothy foam lands on a boy playing in the sand. “Sorry!” I shriek, grabbing a towel from his blanket. I attempt to wipe him off but the mother yanks the towel from my hand. “Watch it!” She yells at me. I mumble another apology and keep going—fighting to
keep my balance as we weave through the crowd. I don’t remember ever feeling this buzzed before. I was always the safe and careful one at school. My mom scared the shit out of me when she made me watch a Lifetime Movie Special about a girl that went missing on Spring Break. It’s only because I’m with Eva and TJ in our hometown that I didn’t even think twice about how much I was drinking.
“You made it,” TJ laughs when sluggishly I catch up, but Eva’s still going. She passes the volleyball courts, just stopping short of the breaking waves.
I take a deep breath and try to regain control. Finally, I reach her and lean on TJ to slip off my sandals while praying cold water on my feet will help sober me up. There’s something about the ocean that brings me peace. The ebb and flow of the waves and the sound of them crashing on the shore is in my blood. I don’t know how I’m going to leave this behind for the concrete streets of Manhattan. But I don’t want to think about that right now, because right here in this moment— my world is perfect. Well, it would be if I wasn’t so drunk. Turning around, I face the beach and sigh in contentment at the scene playing out in front of me. The concert’s in full swing and the stage area is packed with couples dancing. Behind them, cliques are scattered across the sand. I gaze to the right where families sit on beach blankets and candles from a few tables glow like fireflies.
“Vanessa! Watch out!”
“Jesus!” I scream. My heart’s pounding out of my chest as TJ grabs my elbow; barely hauling me out of the way as a Zodiac slams up on the beach next to us. The compact boat resembles the type of military craft that you’d expect a Navy Seal to use on a covert mission. But the four guys are lounging inside drinking bottles of Red Stripe are no Navy Seals— they are the stereotypical playboys of summer.
Of course, it’s him.
Seeing my reflection in the aviator lenses of Mystic’s golden boy is surreal. I’m finally face to face with the legend and Mom is going to flip out when I tell her how he almost killed me.
“What the heck was that, Blake?” Eva asks, reaching into his boat for a beer.
“Sorry Eva. I just got the new Yamaha 8 horsepower fitted on my Zodiac today. I haven’t quite gotten used to the power this baby has,” he laughingly replies.
I haven’t moved. I’m still planted in the sand next to TJ— staring in shock at the local celebrity who almost ran me over and realizing that he couldn’t care less.
“Hey TJ— I didn’t know you knew my girl Eva,” he says stepping out of the rugged watercraft.
“I didn’t know you even knew my name.”
“My father and I know every employee who works at the yacht club,” Blake answers helping his friends move the rugged boat ashore.
I raise my eyebrows at Eva. She finally takes the hint and introduces me. Blake takes my hand and kisses it, “Pleasure to meet you…Vanessa.”
“Thanks for the apology,” I mutter.
He winks at me and just walks by— as if I’m no one important.
I guess I’m not.
My eyes follow him and it’s impossible not to miss how the crowd parts— almost as if recognizing their king has arrived.
My mouth drops open in surprise at Eva and TJ, blindly following Blake. I didn’t realize my two best friends subscribed to his fan club and after the stunt that he just pulled— I don’t want to be a member. I can’t watch this anymore; with my eyes downcast, I turn away.
All I see are feet.
I stare at them incredulously for a good fifteen seconds. They are encased in a pair of Adidas flip-flops, and look to be a size twelve with perfectly shaped toes. As the buzz from the alcohol hums through me; my eyes move up his legs and past loose khaki shorts, up to his white button-down shirt and linger on wide shoulders. When my eyes finally reach his face— a pair of dark eyes smirk down at me. While I’m tall at five feet and seven inches, the top of my head barely reaches his chest.
“If you have a thing for feet— I’ll let you rub them for a beer.”
His dark brown hair is wet from the sea spray and it curls on his neck. My God. I’m in love. I pinch myself to make sure that I’m not hallucinating. I’ve never seen anyone like him before. He’s straight out of a dream.
He raises an eyebrow at me.
I’m busted.
I’m too drunk to even attempt trying to hide what’s clearly written on my face.
“Sure. I’ll be sure to hit all the right spots for an extra tip.”
What did I just say? My God, I sound like a hooker.
Dammit, never again!
I am never drinking boxed wine and tequila again. I’ve never had such an instant and visceral attraction to a man before. It’s intense and overwhelming. For a second, I forget where I am; who I am because all I want to do is jump him right here in the sand.
I’ve lost my mind. No correction, he stole it from me and I have a bad feeling that he’s about to steal much more.
“I think I’ll pass,” he says, smiling and shaking his head. Small flecks of salt water fly off and land on my bare shoulders.
I’m mesmerized.
The man of my dreams is real. He’s right in front of me and I’m too drunk to do anything but stare dumbly at him with my mouth hanging open.
He smooths his hair back with one hand and finally tells me his name.
“Ryan Stone.”
He reaches into the Zodiac and grabs two beers. “So…I know you have a foot fetish but I don’t know your name.”
“Vanessa Lyman and I hate feet. But yours…are pretty special.” I’ve found my voice.
He looks down at them before meeting my gaze, “Well you know what they say about a man’s feet...”
As we clink bottles, I hear the music from the Grease Live with Vanessa Hudgens playing in my head. Oh yes, those…summer nights.
We both sip our beers in silence and it begins to feel awkward. I know I’m coming off like a complete ditz—so I try to think of something cool to say.
“I’ve never had this kind of beer before—it’s a bit heavy.”
“I just got back from a business trip to Jamaica,” he replies taking a swig. I stare at his lips touching the cool glass.
“What does Jamaica have to do with anything?”
“Red Stripe is a Jamaican beer, little one.”
“Jamaica? What type of business did you have there?”
“I’m an investment banker for a small firm in Boston. This week we had a meeting for our Caribbean investors at Rose Hall.”
“Where’s Rose Hall? I thought you said you were in Jamaica?”
He stares at me for a minute and then replies, “Rose Hall is an exclusive part of Montego Bay.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip and bow my head. My toes dig into the wet sand and I know that I’m way out of my league here.
“It’s alright, Vanessa. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you failed geography class.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I just graduated at the top of my class and I’m sure no one but wealthy playboys knows where Rose Hall is.”
“Point taken,” he smirks at me some more and I realize that he’s never stopped smirking at me since the moment I looked up and saw him ten minutes ago.
This guy isn’t from around here and he clearly knows it. Not only that, but he and Blake aren’t college kids. They are self-assured men. There’s an unmistakable difference between them and the rest of the local boys on the beach behind me.
“What are you doing here at Esker with Blake?”
“Blake and I met at HSB. He’s been trying to convince me for years to take a Thursday off for one of these beach concerts. I finally take him up on it and find you. So, tell me…are all the girls in this town weird?”
I cringe knowing that tonight he’s got me pegged. “I’m not weird…maybe just a little buzzed? What’s HSB?”
“Harvard School of Business.”
“Oh.”
My face is greasy and I feel dejected.
Why did I have to meet him on
a muggy summer night when I’m drunk at a beach concert?
“Tell me Vanessa… what do you do for fun when you’re not shit-faced on the beach?”
I take a few steps out of the water to stand closer to him. Nervously, I fidget with my grandfather’s signet ring, twisting it round and round on my index finger. His death hit me hard and wearing his ring gives me comfort.
I take my time answering his question. Obviously, an older sophisticated guy like him could never be interested in me. This won’t go anywhere, so I don’t see the point of being anything but real.
“I enjoy a good book. I wanted to major in English Lit, but my parents freaked and made me choose a business major instead.”
“Why? English Literature is classic. It’s a prep school curriculum must. Chaucer is one of my favorite authors. Who are you reading now?”
“Uh— I just re-read the Twilight series.”
He looks at me like I am the biggest idiot he’s ever met.
“What?”
“You know—Edward Cullen, the sexy vampire? The series was made into movies—”
He shakes his head, “I’ve never heard of it. I’m too busy making multi-million-dollar business deals to watch teen shit,” he finishes snobbishly. He breaks eye contact with me and searches the crowd, probably looking around for his friends and planning an exit strategy.
Crap, did I just say Edward Cullen to a man like Ryan Stone?
I’ve been in deep water trying to tread with him and sinking like a stone.
How am I supposed to keep up with him? I just graduated from a small state college with a degree in marketing, while he is Mr. Harvard and must be close to a decade older than me. Even sober it would be a challenge.
God—he must think that I’m a great conversationalist.
I sigh in relief, seeing Blake’s tall blonde head emerge from the crowd. I guess the king has finished his meet and greet with us peasants but at least him coming back will save me from making more of an ass out of myself.
I hope.
“Take this Vanessa.” TJ hands me a bottle of water.
“Thanks. I was wondering where you went.”
He winks and starts talking with one of Blake’s friends about yachting. I take this opportunity to disengage and let Ryan join in on TJ’s conversation. But I can’t help but hear that they are making plans to go over to Fisher’s Island. Fisher’s is considered part of New York State and the bars close later than they do in Connecticut. I guess that must be the appeal. It’s a few nautical miles off the coast of Esker and only accessible by boat making it rich man’s playground.