Mai Tai'd Up (21 page)

As the evening arrived under a cloudless sky, we wandered with everyone else toward the bandstand. The Fourth of July in Monterey concluded not just with fireworks and music, but with the crowning of Little Miss Stars and Stripes, a local pageant. My mother had kept me out of local pageants, saving me for the ones she felt could lead to bigger and better things. But the truth is, sometimes these local pageants can be the most fun. This one was loaded with sparkle and glamour, small-town pride, and just enough camp to make it fun.

Sophia huffed, “I still can’t believe you were engaged to a former Little Miss Stars and Stripes. A beauty queen—that should have told you something right there.”

Lucas was looking very uncomfortable.

“Was that Julie?” I asked.

As he nodded, Sophia told me, “She was a total twat.”

Lucas said, “For your information, Chloe was a beauty queen. Miss Golden State, right?”

Now I was the one blushing and looking uncomfortable.

“Seriously? Miss Golden State?” she asked, and I nodded. “Well,
you
don’t seem to be a twat.”

“I’m oddly flattered by that,” I replied, and she offered a smile.

Then someone tapped the microphone on stage, and we all turned to see a parade of cute little girls dressed up in their finest red, white, and blue dresses. As the crowd oohed and aahed, an official-looking man introduced the beginning of the annual Little Miss Stars and Stripes pageant, and asked us to please welcome the judges for this evening. The high school cheerleading coach, the owner of the local supermarket, and a former Little Miss Stars and Stripes.

“Speaking of twats,” Sophie muttered under her breath, and Lucas suddenly went as still as stone beside me.

“Please welcome back to town, all the way from Hollywood, where she can currently be seen in commercials for Mattress Giant, Julie Owens!”

General applause. Hissing from Sophia. Lucas had gone mute.

Oh, boy.

“W
hat the hell is
she
doing here?” Sophia whisper-yelled.

The announcer said, “Former Little Miss Stars and Stripes Julie Owens is back in town to help us crown our next winner. As you know, we usually have our current Little Miss crown the new winner, but Becky Whippleson is recovering after a nasty accident involving a skateboard and Vespa scooter. We wish Becky a very speedy recovery.”

“So, she’s back just for this?” Sophia asked.

“She came back home just for this. Isn’t that wonderful, ladies and gentlemen? Leaving behind her booming career in Hollywood, she rushed back home to help us out,” the announcer said, sounding more and more like a game show host by the minute.

I looked onstage to see Julie, clad in a red sequin gown and a crown, waving to the appreciative crowd. Then I chanced a look up at Lucas, still frozen but taking it all in.

“I can’t believe she’s here. She better not stay for the fireworks, or I’ll have a bottle rocket with her name on it,” Sophia said, a little louder this time.

“Tell me, Miss Owens, will you be staying for the fireworks tonight? Helping us celebrate the Fourth?” the announcer asked, and handed her the mike.

“I sure will, Mr. Wilson. I can’t wait to celebrate our nation’s birthday with my family, and hopefully some old friends, here in my hometown!” Julie crowed, and the crowd cheered along with her and the rest of the Little Miss minions.

“Oh, for the love of—” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to leave?” I asked in a low voice, leaning in so the rest of his family couldn’t hear.

He gave me a tight smile, then shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Besides, I promised you fireworks.”

When he tucked me tight into his side, I let him. And we watched his ex-fiancée crown Little Miss Ah, Forget It.

And then came the fireworks. But the ones in the sky were dwarfed by what I now refer to as Big Dumb Mean Julie Fudging with My Fourth of July.

If I’d left my fiancé standing at the altar, which technically I did
not
do, and then came back into town unexpectedly, I would
not
deliberately seek out said fiancé and try to explain why I did what I did
in front of his family
.

If I ever ran into Charles and the rest of the Sappington clan, I’d be gracious, keep the chitchat to a minimum, and be on my way as fast as possible to minimize the emotional damage on either side. But you’re darn tootin’ that the first time I
see Charles, it will
not
be in public. I’ll make sure it’s on our own terms, with us both coming to the table to talk and yell and scream in privacy.

Not how Little Miss Mattress Giant rolls. No, she made eye contact with Lucas during the pageant, and it was all she could do to stay on the stage, practically foaming at the mouth to get to him.

After she placed a crown on the new Little Miss, she thanked the crowd, did a weird little curtsy-wave, and practically steamrolled through the crowd to get to Lucas. He kept his arm firmly around my shoulders. For not dating, our shoulders sure seemed to be getting some play. Nevertheless, I stayed.

“Lucas!” she cried out, running through the crowd like she was auditioning for a Nicholas Sparks movie. And for the record, Julie Owens was beautiful. Tall and curvy, with long blond hair and bouncing boobs. She was your All-American California Girl. I’d been told I was the All-American California Girl. But where I got comparisons to Christie Brinkley, she’d be better compared to Pamela Anderson.

I hated her on sight. She might be the nicest person in the world, but she’d hurt him, so I hated her. And she was now hugging Lucas, with her bouncing boobies, so I hated her.

There were so many other sets of angry eyes on her I almost felt bad for the girl. But, bouncing boobies. So, yeah, no.

The incredulity continued when she flung herself, actually flung herself, into his arms, catching Lucas so off guard that he damn near fell over, recovering only at the last second. “Um,” he managed, his arms full of bouncing.

“Pretty sure you meant to say
what the fuck
,” Sophia said, her mouth, along with everyone else’s, hanging open.

“I’m so glad to see you! I’m sorry I didn’t call and let you
know I was coming home, but it happened so fast, I thought I’d surprise you!” She giggled, still trying to snuggle into his arms as he began to pry off the bouncing.

“It’s a surprise, all right,” he muttered, finally getting her off of him. “Julie, what did you think I’d—”

“Dr. and Mrs. Campbell, good to see you! How are you?” she cooed, turning to them.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding me,” his mother said, and I smothered a laugh. “Chloe, dear, we’ll see you later, okay? Call me; we’ll have lunch and talk about getting this therapy program set up.” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, shot her son a clear warning look, and tugged her husband away.

“Good luck, son. Chloe, so glad you could join us tonight,” he called out.

Which caused Julie to finally look at me. I tried to stifle the insane bubble of laughter that threatened to erupt.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, tilting her head to the side and studying me carefully. “You are . . .?”

I looked to Lucas to make the introduction, but he was too flummoxed. I couldn’t blame him. “I’m Chloe Patterson.” I did not offer my hand.

“I’m Julie, but you probably know that already. I saw you all watching the crowning, wasn’t it fun? When they asked me to come, I just couldn’t say no. I’ve done pageants all my life, and even though I haven’t held a title or worn a crown in ages, it’s just something I can never quite leave behind, you know?” she rambled.

I arched an eyebrow exactly as my mother might and said wryly, “I can imagine.”

“Chloe was Miss Golden State.” Sophia came next to me, slipping her arm through mine. “Sort of makes your Little Miss Crap Show look a little ridiculous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Here we go,” Neil said.

“Sophia, nice to see you. Slumming it in our little hometown, are we? I thought you never left San Fran?” Julie asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Slumming it? Yeah, this”—Sophia gestured to the beautiful bay, covered in sailboats bobbing in the moonlight, the bandstand covered in red, white, and blue bunting, the carnival midway glowing with thousands of twinkling lights—“is really slumming it.”

Julie shrugged her shoulders, dismissing her. Dismissing everyone, in fact, stepping back to Lucas and gazing adoringly up at him. “I came to see
you
, silly. Think we could talk? Besides, I need a ride home.”

Lucas was seriously smart—not just with books, but with actual street brains. He knew better; he’d never fall for—

“Uh. Sure. Yeah. I . . . yeah. Chlo?” Lucas said, looking over her shoulder at me.

“What! I mean—wait, what?” I asked, trying to cross my arms. I couldn’t actually manage it, because I was holding an enormous pink teddy bear.

“C’mere a minute,” he asked, backing away from his family a bit.

I did, leaving Sophia and Julie discussing which part of Julie’s ass Sophia should kick, and how far Julie could shove a cello bow up Sophia’s nose. I was betting on Sophia. We headed a little ways away, to the edge of the sandy beach. I could feel the grains spilling into my sandals as I sank a bit. Chilly. I shivered—not totally because of the chilly sand.

“Chloe, how pissed would you be if I took her home?”

Loads. Tons. Truckfuls of pissed.

But we were just friends, right? So trucks full or not, I couldn’t really tell him ‘No, don’t go.’ Could I?

He looked into my eyes, his so full of . . . something. And as I looked up at him, the fireworks began. Big, and bright, loud and sparkly, over the ocean and over our heads. But he didn’t look away, just looked into my eyes. Did he want me to tell him, ‘No, don’t go’?

No, don’t go,
I thought. But I said, “I can’t answer that, Lucas.”

“I think you just did.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I replied.

“What?” he asked, leaning down to hear me over the high school band, now playing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” as loud as it was off-key.

“I said, I just don’t want you to get hurt!” I yelled, putting my mouth right next to his ear.

“I won’t!” he yelled back, our faces right next to each other now, the space between us filled with tension, a sudden sense of urgency, and John Philip Sousa.

“Do you want—I mean, are you sure about that?” I stammered, trying to say what I wanted to know without actually tipping my hand.

Stay with me.

His gaze settled on my lips. Which I licked.

“Maybe I should—”

Say it! Yes, say it!
I thought.

“Lucas! Come on!” I heard from behind me.

And as the cymbals crashed, he made his decision. “Call you tomorrow?” he asked, and I nodded. He kissed my cheek, which burned like icy fire, and then he was gone. With Little Miss Mattress Giant. And I was still on the beach, holding a pink bear, with cold feet, whispering,
No, don’t go.

When the last starbursts had left the sky, I realized now
I
was the one without a ride home. Sophia and Neil were kind
enough to drive me home, and during the ride I got to hear all about how often Lucas and Julie used to fight and break up, only to make up again. I also had to listen to Sophia plot the demise of Julie, if indeed she was back to stay. And I further had to listen to Sophia tell me how much she now liked me, and felt like I would be a great choice for her cousin. If, in fact, he was still available.

Neil tried to keep the conversation away from Sophia’s plotting ways. He asked questions about Our Gang, and mentioned that they had some friends in San Francisco who were getting married and were thinking about adopting a shelter dog. I told him that when they were ready, I’d be glad to have them come down and meet my dogs.

When they dropped me off and it was just me and the quiet mountains, I was glad to be alone.

Alone. This is what I’d wanted, right? To be on my own, doing it my way, just like Frank said. Tied to no one, answering only to myself, depending on no one. Just me and Sammy Davis Jr. I got ready for bed alone, I turned out the lights alone, I plodded in circles alone, restless. Not ready to end this day. Alone.

I was still alone on the back patio, Sinatra on the hi-fi, hastily made mai tai in hand, a little teary and a little bleary, when I got a text from Lucas.

If you’re awake, can you come to the front door?

I
stood in the doorway, hiding my lower half behind the door, as my lower half was currently clad in nothing but panties and air. He was standing on the porch leaning against the post, looking
weary and beautiful. His eyes seemed bluer than normal, perhaps due to the contrasting red that lingered there. Caused by whiskey, or tears?

“Hi,” he said, sounding exhausted.

“What are you doing here, Lucas?” I asked, resting my temple against the door.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

“I’ll risk it,” he replied, the left corner of his mouth lifting. I opened the door further, and his eyes roamed over my choice of pajamas. “Is that my—”

“Shirt, yes, it is.” I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “You left it here one day after we were out kayaking, and I never got it back to you.”

It would be hard to get it back to him, since I’d been sleeping in it most nights since. An old chambray work shirt, it was soft and broken in, smelling of salt and sun and . . . oh, hell . . . Lucas. If I cared to examine what it meant, that I chose to surround myself with his scent every night, one might draw a conclusion that I was unwilling to face quite yet. Especially since that conclusion left me on a beach, without a ride home, while he went off with his ex.

But, yeah, it was just a shirt.

He let his eyes linger on my bare legs.

“Can I come in?” he asked when his eyes finally met mine again.

“Sure,” I replied, holding the door open.

He heard the Sinatra and let “That Old Black Magic” pull him out to the patio, where he knew I’d been.

“Cocktails? This late?”