Summer Darlings

by Brooke Lea Foster

  She began examining her polished fingernails. Should she get a drink? She wished she’d asked Ruth for a cigarette. Maybe she could ask a passerby for one, perhaps strike up a debate about which brand was best. She crossed her arms over her chest, then forced them to her sides in a charade of confidence. Maybe she should turn around and drive home, get in her pajamas. At the pop of a flash bulb, she looked up. And when she did, she saw Ash.

  He was on the lower patio, near the bar, a black bow tie fitted about his neck. His blond hair, which was often windswept and loose, was styled to one side, a gloss of pomade holding his wave in place. Perhaps he sensed her staring because he looked up, and while he didn’t stop talking to the group of men surrounding him, he didn’t take his eyes off her, either.

  Heddy tilted her chin down, looking up toward the first stars of night, letting her winged eyes find him again, and when he smiled at her, she grinned broadly. She had a desire to run to him, to tell him how often she thought of him, how she hunted for his truck on the road and searched for the back of his head in town. That when she lay in bed at night she stared at his cottage, daydreaming about what he was doing, what they could be doing together. She wanted to say that she didn’t know what it was, but he made her happy, that when she was with him the sticky things lost their stickiness.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Gigi trying to get her attention, nudging her head toward the crowd, meaning something like: Get your butt down here. She remembered the lesson then, the mark.

  Count, she thought. Heddy inhaled the smell of cigars and cigarettes, citronella and salt air, and exhaled, calming the fluttering sensation in her chest. She willed herself to find him once more, waiting until he was fixed on her. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. He looked effervescent, exuberant, talking animatedly, like he believed every word he was saying with all his being. That’s how he spoke to her at Katama Beach, like she was the only one there, a genuine smile topping off whatever he said.

  She gazed at him, willing him to come to her, counting three Mississippi, four Mississippi. Heddy felt for her hair, making sure it wasn’t sticking up, the anxiety of the situation turning to panic, since he wasn’t moving, not one step, like Gigi promised he would. She considered something she hadn’t before: Maybe none of it would work. Maybe Ash wouldn’t be impressed with the movie star’s red dress, maybe he wouldn’t fall for these tricks. Maybe despite all of this, he would tell her what a sweet girl she was and seek out a more sophisticated woman. Five Mississippi.

  He wasn’t coming. She imagined a metal discus barreling down a pole, a wheelbarrow dumping bricks at her feet. She hunted for Gigi in the crowd, wanting her company desperately, but the actress was busy with her own friends. Her eyes roamed, burning with the threat of tears. Was that one of the nannies serving canapés? Heddy saw the back of Jean-Rose’s head. Perhaps she should stand beside her? No, the bathroom. She’d reapply gloss.

  When Heddy returned to the patio, she forced herself to take the stairs down to the party. Ash was nearby, and when he saw her standing there, he motioned to the dapper men circling him to wait a moment. He began pushing toward her through the other guests, using his broad shoulders to break up conversations. She imagined placing her palms on his shoulders, squeezing the muscles there, standing on tiptoe to meet his lips. Her eyes didn’t leave his as he edged closer.

  Heddy laced her fingers behind her back to keep her arms from hanging awkwardly at her sides. When he was in front of her, she could see the specks of green in his eyes. He looked wonderstruck, surprised at the girl standing before him. She shied away from him, swaying in her heels, and this time, the corners of her mouth turned up.

  “Look at you,” he said, and for a moment he couldn’t look at her, and she knew then that he was smitten. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

  She straightened his bow tie, feeling emboldened, and elation coursed down her arms. “I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

  Ash grinned, placing his hand just above the red silk bow on her back. He led her into the thicket below, snippets of small talk circling like cigarette smoke. Jean-Rose watched hawklike as they breezed by her and the pool, aglow in aquamarine.

  “Glad you finally made it,” Jean-Rose said, her eyes running up and down Heddy’s figure, red shoes to winged eyeliner.

  Ash’s grip on her was confident and full of direction, and he told Jean-Rose: “Can I have her for a minute?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. He led her to the bar, the crowd seeming to part for them, even if the chatter around them carried on without pause. Everyone was looking at them— No, at her.

  He handed her a glass of punch, the rim coated in brown sugar. “You looked like you needed saving.”

  “Was it that obvious? I don’t know anyone here.”

  He held up a shot of whiskey in a toast. “Well, you know me.”

  “Cheers.” She swigged her drink, waiting for that tingling feeling that came with it, the one that made her feel like she could do anything.

  The band was finishing an up-tempo doo-wop song people a generation older preferred. Ash leaned up against the bar sideways to face her. Smelling his aftershave—citrus and vanilla, she guessed—and gazing up at him, she nearly forgot she was at Gigi’s party, or that they weren’t the only two people there. Ash flattened the back of his hair with his hand.

  “You’re different tonight,” he said.

  Heddy matted her hair down in the back, too, mimicking him. “Possibly because I’m not chasing two little kids in a bathing suit.” She laughed. “And anyway, we didn’t stumble upon each other; I came looking for you.”

  She watched a look of understanding flash across his face. His eyes were shiny then, a boy who was told he could ride the carousel a second time around, and she smiled softly.

  “When I saw you, I thought, That dress. But it’s not the dress, it’s you. You’re so…” That he couldn’t find the right words made her blush, and she stood regally, for perhaps the first time in her life.

  Heddy did her best pirouette: “I love this dress.”

  “You’re having fun tonight, aren’t you?” His eyes twinkled; she swore it.

  Nearby, she spotted Gigi on an outdoor wicker sectional, men hawking her on all sides. Heddy searched for Cary Grant’s pretty-boy looks but didn’t see him. Gigi caught her eye, waving seductively. She cupped her hands around her full red lips and mouthed: “Boob rub.”

  Heddy worked to block Ash’s view of Gigi. “It’s a party, isn’t it? Besides, only four weeks until I leave the island.”

  “Summer is flying by.” Ash tapped his hand to Chubby Checker’s “Let’s Twist Again.”

  Heddy took another swig of punch, then tapped her hand, too, while sneaking a look at his watch: Peugeot. Gold-toned rectangular face, weathered brown leather strap, two dials (one for the hour hand, one to count seconds). Ash leaned his elbow on the bar, gazing at her.

  “Every so often you get a summer you don’t want to let go of.”

  “This is one of them,” she said. Heddy’s eyes followed a girl in a tailored lavender sheath as she sauntered by. Then she copied Ash’s position, leaning against the bar with her elbow resting on the bar top.

  He looked at her like she was up to something. “Why are you doing that?”

  She pooled her eyes with innocence. “What?” She turned her head, grinning.

  He hooked his thumb in his trouser pocket, the muscles in his eyes pulling back a smile. “Nothing.”

  “Maybe I’m just a little starstruck.”

  “Bartender, another whiskey, please.” Ash stared into the shot glass for a moment, shaking his head. A whiff of pineapple chicken drifted by, and she moistened her lips, the reassuring flavor of strawberry gloss on her tongue.

  “You took my breath away tonight. Did I say that? I don’t want the night to end without you knowing that,” he said. The liquor sloshed in her stomach, giving her courage, too.

  “I think about you…” The b
artender dropped a martini glass, the shatter pausing conversations.

  Ash pushed off the bar with his fists. “There’s something I need to do. But… will you dance with me, first?”

  Hypnotized, she let him lead her to the dance floor, where a few other couples held each other at arm’s length, slow dancing to “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

  Heddy locked her arms around his neck, his hands resting on her back, his warmth enveloping her. Theirs would be a Cape Cod house, sweet yellow shutters with a paved drive. He would do the yardwork and she would bake the cookies. At night, they’d snuggle on a couch they picked from the Montgomery Ward catalog. They’d watch I Love Lucy and have two children, a boy and a girl, and she’d dress them in coordinating outfits on Christmas, and they’d drink a little too much spiked eggnog and make love after putting out the children’s presents. She would kiss him goodbye in the morning and again when he got home. He’d never cheat on her, and they’d never be pressed for money.

  The song drifted to an end, and he pulled away. “I need to go now, but I’ll find you.”

  She looked away from him, her cheeks hot. “Oh, of course.” Did Ash see the beautiful blonde standing near them, the woman she’d seen get out of the car earlier? She seemed to be watching them. Heddy ran her tongue along her lips, tilting her head to the side, like Gigi had the other day.

  “I’ll be right where you left me,” she said, as sultry as her voice would go. Once he disappeared into the party, she tried to hide her disappointment that he’d gone off. She inched her way closer to where Gigi was, thankful when the actress noticed.

  “Ohhhh, Miss Heddy.” Gigi hollered from the outdoor sectional. The actress swatted away the harem of men who surrounded her and reached her hands out to Heddy’s. “Look at you.”

  Heddy put her arms up, posing like she’d won an Academy Award of her own. “I feel like a million bucks.”

  “Because of the dress—or because of the boy?” Gigi gestured to the spot where she and Ash had danced.

  Heddy shrugged. “He had to talk to other people.”

  Gigi’s eyes were luminous. “And so did you.” She planted her hands on her thighs, twisting her hips ever so slightly. “You look stunning. If I wasn’t here, no one would be able to take their eyes off you.” Gigi twirled a tousled lock of auburn hair around her finger. For a moment, Heddy was lost in a daze staring at the movie star. She snapped back. I’m supposed to compliment her.

  “That dress is unlike anything I’ve ever seen—what material is that?” said Heddy, pinching at the knit.

  “A designer in LA specializes in crochet. Isn’t it incredible?” The dress clung to Gigi, an elaborate white crocheted mini that fell to the mid-thigh, and lacked lining in parts, giving guests small peeks at the skin on her hips, her cleavage, even her thighs. “These ladies won’t wear anything like this in their lives—I feel sexy as hell in it.”

  “You look sexy as hell in it.”

  Gigi laughed wickedly, then kicked at Heddy’s stilettos.

  Heddy nearly forgot her manners. “Thank you for these!” She pointed her foot like a ballerina to show off the heels, and Gigi’s grin spread from ear to ear. “They’re so gorgeous I may display them as art after this.”

  “Her face must have been priceless.” Gigi smirked.

  Heddy searched for Jean-Rose; she was talking to Ash, and he held a drink at his chest, his stance triumphant. That’s who he had to talk to?

  “I’m sure Jean-Rose could afford them, if she wanted them,” Heddy said. Ash and Jean-Rose toasted, then he began chatting with a few well-dressed men.

  Gigi jutted out her chin, sarcasm in her snicker. “The Williamses have money, sugar pie, but these heels are limited edition from Paris, something you get only if Coco Chanel is your dear friend.” Gigi cackled, like she and Heddy were in on the same joke.

  Time stopped. The cacophony quieted, the dancers slowed their footwork, the music trailed off. Of course. That’s why Gigi was being so nice to her. Heddy was a pawn in a drama that had nothing to do with her. Gigi wasn’t interested in studying Heddy’s mannerisms for a role. The actress wanted to drive Jean-Rose to the brink of madness, showing her that even her own babysitter, who she paid to respect her, would rather emulate Gigi. That getting an invite to a party wasn’t so special if the babysitter got one, too.

  “Heddy.” Gigi snapped her fingers in her face, but she stared at Gigi’s face, like she was seeing it for the first time. Gigi in her skimpy dress, her face flushed with liquor, drunk with ambition and ego. Even with all her beauty and the bloated bank accounts, she was just another girl trying to prove she was worth something. Maybe Heddy had known that all along. Maybe it’s why she asked her for help. However different they were, they had that in common. Two girls from the wrong side of the tracks working to right their ships.

  Ted rested his hand on Gigi’s shoulder, and she turned to Heddy first, secretly rolling her eyes, then facing him with a phony smile.

  “Nice job, Gigi. You turned our Heddy into a swan,” Ted said, sitting beside the actress.

  But even as she considered Gigi’s intentions, she didn’t care if the actress had used her. Because in the end they’d helped each other. Heddy was here, wasn’t she? She knew Gigi wouldn’t forget her, and she had a feeling they’d remain friends, as unlikely as that seemed.

  Gigi bent toward Ted, allowing the tops of her breasts to fall out of the ornately crocheted bosom. “I heard you’re running for state senate?”

  “Oh, sit up.” He chuckled, but they couldn’t miss his stern tone. He sipped his champagne. “I’ve decided not to run.”

  Gigi threw a crumpled napkin toward Edison Mule, his arm around his wife, a petite woman in a plum-colored sleeveless shift dress. “Too many skeletons in the closet?”

  A waiter came by to refill Ted’s champagne glass, tiny bubbles popping at the surface. “Where is your date, Gigi?”

  Gigi blew a kiss to the men gathering nearby, waiting for a turn to meet her. “I have enough to keep me busy. Where is that opportunist you call a wife?”

  “Even after all this, she gets to you. Do what I do: pleasant ignoring.” Ted snorted, and Heddy stared at her hands. She didn’t like Jean-Rose, either, but still, she wanted to clock him.

  Gigi pushed the barrel of his chest. “You always were a little cruel.” She wondered then if Gigi knew what he did to Jean-Rose sometimes.

  When he was gone, Gigi put her arm around Heddy’s shoulders. “Did you see his wristwatch? Audemars Piguet. Stainless steel. One of the finest men’s watches—extremely expensive. He’s always trying to prove something, probably to make up for those awful eyebrows.”

  Heddy spit her olive back in her martini. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, composing herself, then breaking into laughter. “What do you know about Peugeot watches?”

  Gigi found Ash, deep in the same conversation. “Is that what he wears?”

  Heddy nodded.

  “Affordable luxury. Moneyed, but practical. Waiter, I want one of those chicken thingies.” A man in a red jacket swooped in, handing her a plateful.

  “So he’s not going to blow his savings on diamonds,” Heddy said. “Good, I don’t need diamonds.”

  Gigi blew the stink of liquor into Heddy’s face. “Oh, Heddy the babysitter. Didn’t I teach you anything?”

  “I thought he wasn’t going to come. I kept staring, and he wasn’t, and then.”

  “I saw it. A perfect scene. You did good, little girl.” Gigi sipped the last of her martini, slamming the glass on the table, something else clearly on her mind. “Do you know that you’re the only one on this island I can trust? You and my agent. But you’re the only one I don’t pay. Everyone else just wants bragging rights. You like me, don’t you?”

  Heddy pressed her hand over the actress’s slender fingers. “I love you, in fact.”

  Gigi squeezed Heddy’s hand, smiling seductively, like the cameras were on her. They were. “Cary broke my heart not
showing up tonight. We’re done.”

  “He must have good reason.” Heddy ogled a plate of shrimp cocktail whizzing by, and Gigi whistled to the waiter, handing her a tower of them.

  “He didn’t even call.” Gigi pushed a cascade of hair across her shoulder, posing for a clicking camera. How often did Gigi smile for the wrong reasons? “See, sugar pie, you can’t make assumptions about people. On-screen, I get to control the ending. Real life is so much more disappointing.”

  Heddy tugged a shrimp off a skewer. “Maybe that’s why I want to be a writer. Then things can only be as bad as I make them.”

  Gigi slapped her on the back. Rough, the shrimp cocktail sauce splattering her face. Heddy wiped her cheek with a cocktail napkin. “Why are you smacking me?”

  Gigi pushed Heddy’s shoulders back. “Because you’re fretting. Look how wrinkled your brows are!”

  Heddy put down the plate of shrimp. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “Easy. Then you move on.” Gigi scooted closer, pointing at the partygoers. “These people come here. They don’t care about me. They don’t care about you. You know who they care about?” She held up one finger, wagged it in Heddy’s face. “Numero uno.”

  Heddy fiddled with her gold-post earring.

  “That’s our problem, me and you. We don’t put ourselves first. We think that finding love is about making someone else happy.”

  Heddy stared at the couples on the dance floor. If she didn’t find someone to love her, what future could she have, except one like her mother’s? A life full of lonely. “With all due respect, I’m not sure you and I play by the same rules. You could spend your life unmarried. But me. I’m out of options.”

  “All I’m saying is don’t squander your degree.” Gigi tilted her head toward a group of men in dinner jackets talking to Ash. “He’s just the first. Give yourself time.”