Lovestruck Summer (8 page)

115 movie theater who went to New York and became a famous model,”I say. “I once got to play guitar while Daniel Johnston sang,”he says. “No way!”I gasp. “Yes way,”he says. “He was at this caféwhere I was hanging out and strumming, and he just came up and sang a little while I leaned back and played. It was very cool.”“That’s amazing,”I say. “Better than my model story.”“It’s not a competition,”says Russ, splash- ing me. “Keep going.”“My favorite book-to-movie adaptation is The Last Picture Show,”I say, trying to sound smart and fi lm-knowledgeable by referencing this old seventies movie, set in small-town Texas. “Cybill Shepherd rules,”he says, showing that he knows the movie too. I laugh, and Russ cocks his head sideways at me. “You know, when you smile I just want to kiss you,”he says. My eyes widen in surprise and I hurriedly turn around, swimming for the other side.

116 Russ laughs. “Are we racing again?!”he shouts after me. But I don’t answer, I just free- style like my life depends on it. I hightail it out of the spring and back up to land, afraid to look at Russ. How weird of him to say that to me! I’m half mad and half scared and half—I don’t know—confused. That’s three halves, but you get what I’m saying. Just as I lay down and put on my iPod to calm my emotions, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pull out an earbud and look up to see Russ lean- ing over me. “I’m sorry I said that,”he says, “about the kiss.”“Okay,”I say, not sure how to respond. “I meant it,”he says softly, his face hovering just inches above mine. He pauses for a moment there and I stare up at his big blue eyes. Two beats later, he pulls back, sits up, and says, “But I’m sorry I said it.”I force my lips into a tight grin as I sit up on my elbows. “It’s okay,”I say. “No big deal.”He looks over his right shoulder at me, studying my face. “It’s just that I’m kind of with someone

117 already this summer,”I say. I did not think I’d have to be having this conversation with a Texas frat cowboy. Can’t he see how different we are? “The skinny-ass DJ,”says Russ. “Sebastian,”I say. “Whatever,”he says, shrugging, and then he stands up and heads back to the water. I feel bad, but what am I supposed to tell him? An hour later, I’m sitting in the shade under the tree, safely on my towel, when Russ comes back out of the water after more major lap swim- mage. He smiles brightly, looking totally over everything. “You ready?”he asks. “For what?”I ask. “The bats!”he says, shaking his head out so droplets of water rain down on me. “Huh?”I ask. I’m really not in the mood for baseball in this heat. Russ shakes his head, laughing. “Priscilla, you have a lot left to see in Austin that your one-track DJ isn’t going to show you,”he says. “Let’s go.”When Russ parks the truck in the parking lot of the Four Seasons Hotel, I give him a skeptical

118 eye. He grabs an old umbrella out of the back cab, confusing me further. The sky is crystal clear. “Trust me,”he says. We walk into the hotel, and I feel sheepish in my wet-spotted T-shirt and shorts, but Russ just strolls through as if he owns the place. He points out a fl ag in the lobby that was fl own in 1835 in the town of Gonzales, Texas, as a warning to the Mexican forces who had instructions to confi scate the cannon, according to the plaque. It has a cannon on it, and it reads, COME AND TAKE IT. “Yikes,”I say. “Baddest-ass fl ag ever,”says Russ. Then he keeps walking through the hotel doors and we head down a sloping lawn to an area with a few chairs that face the water. “This is Town Lake,”says Russ. “And that’s the Congress Avenue Bridge.”He points to our right. Then he starts to say the weirdest things. “So, there are probably a million bats under that bridge right now,”says Russ. “You mean like fl ying minions of Dracula?”I ask. “That kind of bat?”“I wouldn’t bring vampires into this,”says

119 Russ. “But yes, that kind of bat.”“I’m intrigued,”I admit. “Go on.”“Well, at sunset, they all come out to look for food,”he says. “They stream over the water and fi ll the sky with black wings. It’s incredible! It’s like this giant cloud of creatures hovering over you.”Russ’s eyes are lit up like he’s telling me we’re about to win the lottery. His smile is wide open and his enthusiasm is infectious. “That sounds amazing,”I say, sitting down in a chair next to him. “This is happening tonight?”“Summer sunsets,”he says. “That’s when they’re here. The bats are up from Mexico.”“Ooh, murciélagos,”I say. For some reason the Spanish word for bat is one of the only things that has stuck in my head since eighth grade Spanish II. “Sí, dork,”says Russ. “And the umbrella?”I ask, ignoring his jab. “Well, it’s not for rain,”he says. “The sky is about to fi ll with mammals, Priscilla! You do the math.”“Ewww!”I wail, tucking my feet underneath

120 me in my wide wooden chair. A waiter comes by to get us drinks from the bar, and Russ orders a root beer. It sounds so good, I get one too. When they come, they’re extra cold and frothy. “Good choice,”I say. “Cheers,”says Russ, clinking his mug with mine. An older couple wanders down the lawn and joins us, sitting on the bench to our left. They’re holding hands, I notice, which I always think is really annoying among people my age, but somehow sweet between couples like my par- ents’age and older. Maybe that’s because my parents never hold hands. They love each other and all, but they just don’t show it that way. This couple, though, is more like my grandpar- ents’age. “You two waiting for the bats?”asks the husband. “Yes, sir,”says Russ. “It’ll be the fi rst time for Priscilla here.”“We watched last night, but they didn’t show,”says the wife, looking at me.

121 I glance over at Russ. “It’s not a sure thing,”he says. “But I thought it’d be fun to try.”“I guess bats are fi ckle,”I say, looking back at the old couple. “The concierge at the hotel says the bats are still pregnant and might not be ready to come out and feed yet,”says the husband. The way he says “feed”sounds a little gross to me, but I’m curious to see this bat phenom- enon. We sit silently for a few more minutes, and Russ and I sip our root beers. Even without the bats fl ying, this time around day’s end is stunning. There is a brief golden moment that seems like it comes straight out of a cinematographer’s fi lmic dream—the sparkling glow on the water, the bright green of the grass under the rose-hued sky. And Russ’s hair with a shimmer of sundown in it. It’s like a song. “Are you disappointed?”he asks me, when the sun sets and we’re left in the blue glow of twilight, sans fl ying rodents. “No,”I say. “It was lovely.”

122 Chapter 12 On Friday night, I have plans to meet Jade and Sebastian at Dirty’s. I go to Jade’s house first to pick her up—she doesn’t live too far from the Drag, which is this main strip near campus, and it’s definitely my turn to drive. When she gets in the Festiva, Jade instantly comments on the music. I realize I’ve been play- ing Russ’s dusty-ass tape for days. I’m kind of into it. “Old-school!”she says, when some insanely ancient Green Day song comes on. “I think this is Russ’s older brother’s high school mix tape or something,”I say. “The family can’t be all bad if he was into Billy Joe back in the day,”says Jade. By the time we get to Dirty’s, Sebastian

123 is already spinning, and Jade and I grab two sodas and settle into our regular booth. “I tried to see the bats this week,”I say. “It’s early,”she says. “They’re probably still pregnant.”Funny how the bats are this normal thing to talk about in Austin. It’s like I just said, “Oh, I went to the supermarket today.”But I’m talking about fl ying mice here. “Yeah, Russ took me down to the lawn by the Four Seasons and we were just—”I start. “Wait,”interrupts Jade. “You went on a date with your fratty neighbor? And you have his mix tape playing in your car . . . ?”“It was not a date,”I say fi rmly. “More like I was looking for something to do. That’s all.”“You must have been really bored,”says Jade, taking a sip of her drink and looking back toward Sebastian. “Russ isn’t that bad,”I say. “He’s not?”she asks. “You’re always acting like he’s the biggest a-hole on the planet with the way he won’t call you ‘Quinn’and how he

124 hangs around all the time.”“Yeah,”I say. “That’s true. He does irritate me.”“Good thing you have Sebastian to focus on,”says Jade, smiling. I look over and see his fast hands replac- ing the Fretless Coma album that just played. Sebastian really is hot. I hear the bells over the door jingle. “Hey, there’s Rick,”I say to Jade, whose back is to the entrance. She doesn’t turn around. “Rick!”I shout, waving at him. He looks at me for a minute, like he’s trying to decide whether to come over. Does he think he’s too cool to sit at a table with interns? He’s always so nice at the Amalgam offi ce. “Hey, Quinn,”he says, when he fi nally graces us with his presence. “Hey there, Jade.”She gives a barely audible “hi,”still not look- ing up. “Sit down,”I say to Rick, scooting over in the booth. It’s bizarre to see your boss out. It’s kind of like seeing a teacher in the drugstore, when you realize that he is a person who has a life outside of your classroom, and maybe he’s

125 even wearing normal clothes or laughing with his wife or something. It’s all very humanizing. And seeing Rick out is, of course, way cooler than seeing a teacher, because he’s an amazing indie- record-label boss. So I really hope he sits down. But he doesn’t. “I’m here to check out a band that’s on after Sebastian,”says Rick, looking only at me and not at Jade, I notice. She has her eyes down slightly. “I’ve got friends coming, so I’m just gonna wait at the bar.”And then, even though I know he’s my boss and I really shouldn’t talk back or question him or whatever, it has to be said: “You guys are being weird,”I say. “Did Jade get fi red or something?”I’m just joking but my comment is met with Silence. Jade’s head lowers like the top of the table is the most interesting thing she’s ever seen in her life. “You guys have a good night, okay?”says Rick, backing away. “I see my friends over there, so . . .”“Dude, what the eff?”I ask Jade after Rick

126 is out of earshot. I smile inwardly at the fact that I self-censored my language, just like Russ did the other day. But when I see Jade raise her head, I real- ize this is something serious. Her mascara is streaked in canals down her cheeks, and her bright red mouth is curved into an unnatural shape of angst. “Oh my God,”I say. “You did get fi red.”“It’s not that,”says Jade, reaching for a tissue in her black canvas bag. Her voice is one of those jagged whispers that only crying people do well. She puts the tissue over her nose and blows. “I looked up to Pitt,”she says. “Huh?”I ask. “Looked up to Pitt? You mean Brad? I guess he’s kind of a role model, but I don’t think he’s anyone to get obsessed with. He’s old, and he cheated on Jennifer Aniston.”Why do I know this stuff? Jade lowers the tissue and looks me dead in the eye. “I hooked up with Rick,”she says, slowly and clearly. “Oh,”I say. Ooooooh. This is bad. “Is that legal?”I ask.

127 “Yes!”she snaps. “I’m eighteen.”Okay, okay, I guess that wasn’t the best question I could have asked. But I’m not sure what to say here. “Do you guys like each other?”I ask, trying again. “Well, I like him!”she says, shredding, piece by piece, the poor, wet tissue as she stares down at the table. “Is he looking at us?”I glance over her shoulder at the bar, where Rick is sitting on a stool and slapping the back of some overweight guy with a leather jacket and a buzz cut. “No,”I say, not sure if that’s what Jade wants to hear. She rips the tissue in half violently. Over the next twenty minutes, I’m able to glean through sniffl ing tones that Jade has always had a crush on Rick, and that being in the offi ce together this summer was part of her seduction plan. They had been fl irting con- stantly and hanging out sometimes after work. Which explains why Jade never wanted to talk about her own love life, and never called me to do anything during the week. And then last

128 night it came to a head. She and Rick hooked up in the demo closet. “That actually sounds kind of amazing,”I say. I’m picturing me with a guy in the Amalgam closet, listening to the Walters’still-unreleased album over the stereo while I prop my leg up on a mid-level shelf and get hot and heavy among the indie rock. “It was,”says Jade, looking at me with intense eyes and bringing me out of my fantasy. “Until he broke away from me and told me he thinks I’m hot but that I’m just a kid.”“Ouch,”I say. “He said ‘just a kid’? Those words? That’s like a lame sitcom diss.”“Yeah,”says Jade. “It’s the worst. I called in sick today and I don’t know if I can go back.”“I’ll be there for you Monday,”I say. “You have to show him that you don’t care. That you’re young and smoking and can get anyone you want.”“You think?”she asks. “Of course!”I say. “He’s lucky you turned those sexy brown eyes his way for a moment, but if he isn’t smitten, he’s forgotten.”

129 I sound like one of Penny’s self-help rela- tionship books. But it seems like the right thing to say, because Jade is perking up. “That’s pretty harsh,”says Jade, her voice fi nally losing that crying edge. “I don’t know if I can turn my feelings around like that. I just always thought he was my ideal. I mean, he’s the head of Amalgam Records, the guy who knows everyone in town, who has so much power and is still such a great person.”“It also doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty hot for a near-thirty-year-old,”I say. She smiles. “That’s true too.”“You don’t have to turn off your feelings,”I say. “You just have to be the intern. Go to work, be your professional self, then leave. You’ll fi nd another guy—a much more ideal summer fl ing fi t.”“Like you and Sebastian?”she asks. “Yeah,”I say. But when I look over at him, although I know he’s so beautiful and all, I don’t feel totally excited. And then I realize that when I imagined the Amalgam closet make-out ses- sion, I didn’t picture myself with Sebastian. I shake my head to clear my weird thoughts.

130 Sebastian is exactly the guy I am looking for this summer. Then I refocus on Jade. “Bright side?”I ask. “Please,”she says. “Your mascara is streaked in this really great way that makes you look like a hardcore eighties album-cover girl,”I say. Jade sticks out her tongue and gives me the hard-rock hand sign. “Thanks, Quinn,”she says. “Anytime,”I say. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”“Yeah,”she says. “But you stay—I know you want to meet up with Sebastian after his set. I can take the bus or something.”“It’s okay,”I say. “I kind of feel like going home myself.”When I get back to the condo, I call Raina but she doesn’t pick up. Penny’s not around, which would normally be a good thing, but I kind of feel like talking to someone right now. I walk out onto the back deck to get some air, and I smell a delicious burger cooking. I look over at Russ and Chrissy’s deck, which is