A Taste of Summer

by Beverly Preston

  “Apparently.” Shayla batted her lashes.

  “He has that, that…that thing he does.”

  “Breathing?”

  “He pisses me off beyond belief.” Implosion was now eminent. “Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! He exerts this…this aura of possession. He has some nerve walking straight up into my space, touching my hair, sending me flowers.”

  “Personally, I just don’t think he can help it.”

  She ignored the sappiness. “I have a hard time concentrating around him. I haven’t been laid in months and my hooha is the most disloyal bitch on the face of the earth.” Carrie Ann threw a karate chop hand signal to her crotch. “She betrays me every time I see him!”

  “You know how much I love you, right?” she questioned warily.

  Her mouth gaped open and snapped shut. “What? Are you taking his side now?”

  “No. Not at all. It’s just, you’re both two of my favorite people in the world. Maybe—”

  “Fuck me,” she growled indignantly. “You are taking his side.”

  “I am not taking his side, Carrie Ann. It’s not a contest.”

  “Then what? Maybe I should what, Shayla? Give him another chance? Is that what you were about to say?”

  Silence.

  The silence was deafening.

  “It’s just…” Her voice softened to a whisper, strumming a chord of motherly intuition. “I simply think you need to get a few things off your chest.”

  Shayla refused to take sides, staking claim to Switzerland a decade ago. Carrie Ann’s heart beat so forcefully, pressure points pulsed painfully at her wrists and neck. Her miniature melt down quickly turned to tenacity.

  “I can’t believe you think I should go on a date with him.”

  “It’s not that I think you should go on a date, but I know for a fact you both have unresolved issues.”

  “And what would that issue be, Shayla? That he broke my fucking heart! There’s not much left to say.” Raising her glass in a cheers fashion, she pounded what remained of her Cosmo.

  “Carrie Ann Lowell, you know how much I love you. I was the one sitting by your side and I know exactly how hurt you were.” Shayla squared her shoulders. Tears gathered at her lower lid, bringing a glossy shimmer to her eyes. “But as your best friend, I’m telling you…the two of you have unfinished business.”

  She blinked repeatedly, stunned by Shayla’s raised voice.

  “You’re both so stubborn—”

  “I am not stubborn.” She made a face.

  “You’re worse than he is!” Shayla’s eyes bulged in mock disagreement. “Honestly, Carrie Ann, you’re the most tenacious person I’ve ever met.”

  She grimly conceded the point with a brief nod. Dabbing at the lingering wetness beneath her lashes, Carrie Ann extended her empty martini as a truce, giving it a wiggle. “I take it back. Can we please not talk about him anymore? I don’t need him ruining another one of my birthdays.”

  Taking pity, Shayla raised to her feet and confiscated the glass. Her deep sigh confirmed the tabled subject. “You still up for going out or do you want to order in? Or are you upset with me now, too?”

  “I never get mad at you. Let’s order in. Drink Cosmos. Have a girl’s night. Wanna sleep over like old times?”

  “I’m sure Nanna and Pappa won’t mind. The boys will be asleep by the time I get home anyway.” Shayla’s voice trailed off as the mixing of the pink cure-all commenced.

  Carrie Ann’s head listed to the side, numbly inspecting the gorgeous bouquet from the safety of the corner of the sofa. The sting of emotions pricked the corner of her eyes. Her fingers wobbled a little, stealing a single rose from the bunch. She massaged the tip of a dewy petal between her fingers, daring to bring it to her nose for a whiff. So many memories. So much hurt. So many unanswered questions. All held in the solitude of single red rose.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  After an evening of Cosmos, girl talk, and a trip or two down memory lane, the morning greeted her with a fresh perspective. Carrie Ann likened Ryan Summer to her favorite dress from high school hanging in the back of her closet. The Boho chic peasant dress put a smile on her face every time she stumbled across it. It taunted her to slip the chiffon over her head, fasten a wide leather belt around the waist, and throw on her combat boots. The multi print had always been her most beloved dress and nothing she ever did could change that. Deep down, she knew she’d never wear that damn dress again, yet she held onto it thinking ‘maybe, just maybe, I’ll wear it again someday.’

  Waiting for Sara to arrive at the Villa, she settled into one of a dozen outdoor chaises. Little waves fanned across the top of her coffee as Carrie Ann blew on the rich creamy goodness. Staring out at the ocean in a trance, she debated on whether to cancel going to the premier.

  “Morning.” Sara greeted cheerfully, handing off a beautifully wrapped rectangular box. “I swung by the office to pick up my handy dandy measuring tape and this was lying on your desk.”

  “Shit,” she grumbled, giving a jiggle to the box assuming it to be chocolates.

  “Looks like Jason is working some extra sweetness.”

  “I don’t think it’s from Jason.”

  “Ooh! Who’s the mystery man?”

  Momentarily shunning the card, Carrie Ann strummed her fingers along the box. “It’s probably from Ryan.”

  “Ryan?” Sara tilted her head in a questioning manner, brown eyes wide with interest.

  “Ryan Summer.”

  “Oh my God! Are you kidding me? Open the card!” On the verge of drooling, Sara anxiously rubbed her hands together. Putting herself in a business-like check, she suggested calmly, “I mean, don’t you think you should open the card?”

  Somehow Carrie Ann’s lower lip managed to slip between her teeth. A lethal concoction of anger, irritation and pain brewed deep within. To her own disbelief a pang of interest knocked a little lower within Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! She chewed on her lip for a full thirty seconds before opening the card.

  Just a little snack for you to enjoy during your busy day

  Glad the Villa worked out perfectly

  Looking forward to seeing it decked out for the Auction

  Jason

  “Thank God.” A sigh of relief burned from her throat, handing the card off to Sara.

  “Oh, man.” Sara’s shoulders slumped in utter disappointment. “I mean, you know, Jason’s cute and all, but…Ryan! Now he’s a total hottie. Do you actually know him?”

  “We dated in college.”

  Ignoring Sara’s squeals of enthusiasm and barrage of questions, she drifted off into her own thoughts. A numbing ache of disenchantment settled heavy in her chest. She thought for sure it would be from Summer. Worse yet, somewhere hidden in the dusty corners of her heart, Carrie Ann wanted them to be from him. But just the idea of that tiny admission infuriated her.

  “Did you say you brought a measuring tape?”

  Sara stopped mid-sentence. The off-limits subject duly noted with a nod of affirmation as she handed off the yellow tape.

  The day went off with only a few minor hitches. Carrie Ann and Sara executed a minute by minute dry run of the event, creating a list, and then backtracking every task, so no detail would slip through the cracks.

  Fatigue set in at the end of the day. Walking through the front door, she was greeted with a rich floral fragrance. Ignoring the gorgeous bouquet, Carrie Ann plopped her purse and box of chocolates beside the clear crystal vase.

  Kicking out of her flats, she turned on some music, grabbed a glass of red wine, settled into her favorite overstuffed chair, and dug into her little brown bag of dinner-to-go. With each passing minute, the melody faded to background noise. Carrie Ann attempted to ignore the red roses staring her in the face. Hostility grew with each bite of lemongrass chicken. Half way through one of her favorite meals, she stood, slamming her fork and bowl on the kitchen counter.

  Her nails clicked against the cold granite. She couldn’
t decide who she was madder at, Summer or herself for allowing him to get under her skin. Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! Hormonal outburst kicked into full swing, pacing with punishing strides, stomping on the wood floor.

  Reaching for the chocolates, she tore open the box, sinking her teeth into the caramel filled square of dark chocolate. Frustration loomed over her like a black cloud…a black cloud during a Summer downpour.

  She needed an out.

  Without so much as one rational thought, she grabbed her phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey,” she choked a bit, swallowing the sweet treat. “Sorry, I was just taking a bite of chocolate.”

  “I was hoping you’d see them before the weekend.” A smile colored Jason’s voice. An unmistakable question hid within his statement.

  “Luckily, Sara spotted them on my desk this morning and brought them with her to the Villa. They’re delicious. Thank you.” She kept her tone smooth, not overly coy, but just enough of an indication.

  “It’s my pleasure. Have you had a chance to look at your schedule?” he paused. “Maybe go to dinner tomorrow night?”

  Tommy would be upset if she backed out of the premier. However, the last thing she wanted to endure was the sight of a piece of arm candy attached to Summer’s side, while she watched from the sidelines—dateless—looking like a lonely idiot.

  Desperate times lead to desperate measures.

  “Actually, I have an extra ticket to a movie premier tomorrow night.” She stumbled through her words. “I need a friend to go with me. Are you interested?”

  Jason fell quiet on the other end of the line. “Friends, huh?”

  “Friends,” she remarked casually. Glaring at the flowers, Carrie Ann added out of pure spite, “Friends…date…maybe.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Even with a warm measure of charm pouring from Jason’s voice, she didn’t feel the slightest tingle of interest. Not one zing. Guilt reared its ugly and unflattering head. Make it clear…friends only! Her typically poised date routine morphed into a ramble. “Would it be too much to ask if we just keep it simple…for right now. See how things go? I’ll be consumed for the next week, and honestly, I get so bogged down, all of my energy—”

  “Carrie Ann, I totally understand. I’d love to go. I promise to keep my hands to myself and I won’t expect you to move in with me until we’ve had at least two dates.” He chuckled. “I’ll arrange a car. What time would you like me to pick you up? I’m assuming that’s okay?”

  She had to laugh at his sarcasm. “That would be great. Six o’clock?”

  “Six it is.”

  *

  A-listers arrived by car, feeding the frenzy of flashing lights and screeches of exhilaration from fans, press and paparazzi. Carrie Ann and Jason arrived via a separate entrance and waited in a VIP holding room along with one hundred or so other attendees. The eager movie goers cared not so much about the movie, but about the irresistible sensation of channeling their inner-celebrity for an evening.

  Not wanting to draw attention to her girls, Carrie Ann opted to conceal her cleavage wearing an edgy, silver sequin cropped mini paired with blue suede peep toe ankle boots. The platform bootie with stiletto heel added some serious inches to her average five foot five height next to Jason’s broad six-foot stature.

  Their conversation flowed easily, chatting it up with other guests waiting for staff to usher them in groups down the Red Carpet, spreading out the excitement. Jason was polite, attentive, and very admiring, hitting all the fine-tuned points a date needed to make a good impression. The man had what Carrie Ann referred to as Player discipline, delving out compliments in moderation to ensure its success ratio. Starting with the traditional, “You look beautiful,” upon arrival and, “Your eyes light up when you talk about HAHF,” during the drive, followed by an intrigued, “What makes you so passionate about the Have a Heart Foundation?” while in the holding room.

  Fortunately, the Cinema staff came with impeccable timing and arrived right on cue to save her from sharing a personal story of her mother’s death, a story she rarely shared.

  Stepping into the lime light, Carrie Ann duly inspected Jason’s masculine frame. She couldn’t deny his strikingly handsome features. Dark hair layered seamlessly across his forehead, tie knotted to perfection at his throat, even his shoes exhibited a pristine shine. Caught staring, Jason smiled amiably, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on her lower back. As the corners of her lips began to turn upward, he gave another adjustment to his already perfect tie, pressing and primping with neatly manicured fingers. Her lip recoiled with a tiny flinch, bombarded with the sudden urge to muddle his hair or dislocate his tie.

  They stopped several times, managing to get in a few selfies along the Red Carpet. Carrie Ann discreetly canvased the walkway, fully prepared to run into Summer at some point during the evening. The constant feeling of distraction wore on her nerves.

  Hearing shrills of excitement erupt in the distance sent a cautionary warning ping to her chest as autograph seekers called out for Ryan and his co-star Jessy. She automatically teetered on her tip toes, stretching her neck in the direction of the strobe of photogs, but couldn’t see anything through the cluster of press.

  Once inside the Cinema, the insanity hushed to a low roar and scent of buttered popcorn permeated the air. Carrie Ann and Jason settled into their assigned seats directly behind Shayla and John.

  “Hey,” Shayla croaked, choking on her popcorn seeing Jason at her side.

  Carrie Ann purposely failed to mention bringing Jason to the premier, fearing a long lecture from Shayla that surely would’ve pointed out the fact that she’d already mentioned having no interest in dating Jason. Which undoubtedly would’ve led to topics like childish behavior or you’re using your date to make him jealous or You need to come clean with him. Or a number of other rational statements that Carrie Ann had no interest in hearing. She simply didn’t want to endure the humiliation of watching Ryan Summer parade a gorgeous woman around in front of her all night.

  “It’s a madhouse out there. You look amazing. Great dress,” Carrie Ann complimented, hoping to ease the look of dismay washing the color from Shayla’s cheeks. She leaned over the seat-back between them, passing out hugs to her favorite couple. “Hi John.”

  “The crowd is crazy!” John agreed, pressing a friendly kiss to her cheek before extending a hand to Jason. “John Mathews.”

  “Jason, Jason Calver. Nice to meet you.

  “This is my wife, Shayla.”

  Shayla squashed the bewilderment forged into the groove between her brows before greeting Jason. “Pleasure to meet you. Carrie Ann’s told me all about the Villa you found for the auction. I can’t wait to see it this weekend.”

  John’s eyes beaded and a rogue smile filled his handsome face. The man had a gift for reading people and judging by the snarky gleam in his eye, he knew exactly why Carrie Ann had a man at her side. He glanced toward a group seated several rows in front of them. She followed his lazy gaze, skimming over the crowd. An unusual sensation of butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach, spying a head of thick sandy blond hair. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t help noticing Summer’s co-star, Jessy and her husband sat to the right of him, and Drew filled the seat to his left.

  No arm candy.

  An awkward twinge fired off in the pit of her stomach. She fidgeted a bit, squaring her shoulders to adjust her posture. Why the hell am I even feeling the slightest bit of guilt for bringing Jason? The man had his chance years ago and blew it.

  “You look lovely this evening, Carrie Ann.” John’s deep voice pulled her out of a trance. Understanding lingered in his emerald eyes, whispering, “You okay?”

  His protective tone, considerate and caring, indicating Shayla had already mentioned her meltdown over the roses. The couple didn’t keep secrets and told each other everything. Truth be told, Carrie Ann had a wee bit of a crush on her best friend’s husband. It wasn’t your
typical crush of attraction or infatuation. It was more like a man-crush. John sat at the top of her Men You Admire Poll. He could build or fix anything. That alone was impressive enough, bearing in mind she grew up in a house where her dad couldn’t or wouldn’t even change a lightbulb. Plus, John was an amazing father. However, what she loved most about John was that he thought the sun rose and set inside Shayla. He was crazy in love with her and didn’t hide it.

  “I’m good.” Her tender smile acting as a thank you. “You look very debonair this evening.”

  “Ha! Debonair? I don’t think that’s a category I fall under. The boys said they made some cash off you the other day.”

  “They sure did. I was just happy not to have to endure a tarantula sighting.”

  Focus all but obliterated, Carrie Ann dared to take another look in Summer’s direction. Drew peered over his shoulder, perusing the room with wide-eyed interest. The sheer buzz of excitement was evident in his exuberant smile. They made eye contact. He raised a hand, flashing her a peace sign as he flipped a chuck of blond hair from his forehead. She couldn’t help but delight in his enthusiasm. It was probably the coolest moment of his life thus far. Tossing him a quick wink, she settled into her seat.

  The director arrived on stage, sharing his zealous passion, showing his favorite cast interviews, who gushed about the incredible life-changing experience it was to work with the best director on the planet. Feeling distracted, Carrie Ann could barely pay attention to the ongoing ramble, preoccupied by the guilt seeping in through the cracks of her conscience. It wasn’t fair to invite Jason. Even though she clearly defined her intention for the evening as friendship, she used him as a buffer and knew it. Not my finest moment.

  Theater lights dimmed giving warning that the movie was about begin.

  Carrie Ann slipped a loose strand of dark hair behind her shoulder, but in mid-motion she saw a pair of warm cognac eyes in her peripheral.