The Shore (39 page)

“Nah. Guess he didn't think it was worth it,” said Jodi. She bent over and knocked on the cabinet door, then opened it.

The rabbit—the guy the other three had been chasing—unfolded himself and stood up. His Bob-fisted eye seemed to grow more purple as he stood there, swaying slightly.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I didn't do anything—forget my name and you're on your own now,” Jodi advised him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I'll go have a drink. Since they're on the house.”

“Do that,” said Jodi.

As he walked by, he tucked something into Jodi's apron pocket. “Thanks again.”

Jodi pulled out a hundred-dollar bill wrapped around a small glassine envelope.

“Anytime,” she said.

“Whoa,”
said Claire, doing early, middle,
and
late Keanu.

Holding up the hundred, Jodi said, “I'm going to save this.” She tucked it away. Then she held up the tiny envelope. “This,” she said. “I'm going to spend. You want?”

“What is it?” Claire asked.

“Given the source, I'd say something to speed me through the night. And pretty unstepped on, by the look of it. Sweet,
sweet
boy.”

“He's a drug dealer,” Claire said.

“Low end of the merchandise chain. Not to worry,” said Jodi. She began tapping out perfect white lines on the countertop. With a grin, she rolled the hundred-dollar bill into a tube. “I've always wanted to use a hundred-dollar bill this way.”

“LADIES!” Eric thundered.

“Coming,” Jodi sang, and snorted up two lines. She offered the bill to Claire.

Virginity,
thought Claire.
My first guy, my first surf ride, my first shark
. . . Aloud, she said, “Okay. But tomorrow, I'm just going to say no.”

“Do that,” said Jodi. “It's gonna give you a wicked nose-burn rush.”

“Okay,” said Claire, deciding not to tell Jodi that the most she'd ever done was a few tokes on occasion, which hadn't done anything for her. Boring, really, perhaps explaining why perpetually stoned people were so frequently boring.

She inhaled. Once.

Her head felt as if the top were going to come off. Passages inside her head she didn't know she had cleared. Her eyes watered and she began to cough. The room reeled.

“LADIES, DON'T MAKE ME COME BACK THERE.”

Jodi grinned, folded the bill into her pocket, tucked the glassine envelope into another, hidden pocket, and hurtled through the door.

The room righted itself. Color blossomed along the edges of every object in the dingy, cramped space. She could see everything so clearly. She could
do
anything.

Claire pushed back the swinging door like a gunslinger stepping into a saloon in an Old West movie, raised her order pad, took aim, and stepped into the fray.

Fifteen

“If I were a rich girl,” Claire sang in the back of the car. She leaned over and pounded on the dash. “Faster.
Faster
.”

“You
are
a rich girl,” Jodi retorted, and jammed her foot down on the pedal.

That seemed so funny to Claire. She fell back as the car accelerated, laughing hard.

“Ha. Ha.” Linley, who had managed to get in the back with Max. She sounded annoyed. “Did I miss something?”

In answer, Jodi jammed on the brakes.

“A yellow light. You stopped for a yellow light!” Claire burst out laughing again as she was thrown back against the seat. Jodi laughed too. They looked at each other and Claire said, “Dumpster,” and they laughed harder.

Claire was in the death seat. With Jodi driving. She had a pocketful of money and a head full of white powder, and everything was
so
funny.

And thirst-making. Claire twisted, reached over the seat,
and grabbed the go cup Max held. She took a long swallow and gasped. “It's ginger ale!”

“You're welcome,” said Max mildly.

“I thought it was at least beer,” said Claire.

“You hate beer,” said Linley. “What's going on?” She sounded suspicious, almost peevish.

Claire noticed how close Linley was sitting to Max, one hand on his thigh. But Max didn't seem to be sitting close to Linley, somehow.

“Max! Do you like Linley?” Claire blurted out.

“Claire . . . ,” Linley began in a low, threatening voice that would have been a warning growl if she had been a dog.

“Yes,” said Max, simply.

Linley jerked around to look at Max.

“Max likes Lin-ley, Max likes Lin-ley,” sang Jodi and the light must have changed, because they were flying again.

“Are you sleeping with Linley?” Claire asked. “You know, having sex?”

Linley came out of the backseat like a great white shark and grabbed Claire's arm. “Shut up! I've had it. What're you on?”

“I'm guessing some kind of flight powder,” said Max.

Linley's grip tightened. She gave Claire's arm a shake. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Because I am,” Claire went on. “Having sex. With Finn. I wanted to keep it a big secret, but now I'm wondering why? It's no big deal, right?”

“Secret sex lives in the big house by the ocean,” intoned Jodi, sounding like a talking head. “Details at eleven.”

“No secret,” Claire repeated stubbornly. “I'm a girl, he's a boy, it's natural. We had sex.”

“Where'd you get it?” asked Max.

“From Finn. The boy,” Claire explained patiently. “Boy. Girl. Sex.”

“The speed,” said Max patiently. “Jodi. Where?”

“Tip,” said Jodi, who'd suddenly gone from garrulous to word miser.

“For outstanding life-saving service,” added Claire and laughed.

“Whatever,” said Jodi. She didn't laugh.

“What?” said Claire. “What did I say? I'm not supposed to talk about sex? When you and Linley talk about it, like, all the time? Where's the rule written, huh, Jodi? Claire can't talk about sex, Claire can't have sex? Well, it's a free country and I can have sex with any guy I want—”

“Or girl,” Jodi interjected, almost sulkily.

“Please. I'm not
that
kind of girl,” chortled Claire.

“I want some,” demanded Linley.

“Sex?” asked Claire. “But maybe Linley is that kind of girl, Jodi.” She was brilliant. Witty. Funny.

“Why don't you let them finish their trip alone,” said Max.

“Why? What's in it for me?” Linley turned to Max.

“We're here,” said Jodi, and slid out of the car. She slammed the door and headed for the house.

Claire frowned. Moody Jodi.

“Jodi, wait,” Linley called.

“Come on, Linley,” said Max softly.

Finn,
thought Claire. Or maybe she said it aloud. But Finn had said he had to get up early. He wouldn't be as happy to see her as she would to see him.

Linley had stopped and turned to face Max as he got out of the car. He put one hand on each arm. They faced each other in the half-light from the house. Max's face looked serious.

And Linley, thought Claire, looked like one of those pictures of the goddesses from the art history books: cold and still and very beautiful.

Her smile made her more beautiful still as she slid her hands up Max's arms.

“Yes, Max, what can I do for you?” she said, and Claire wondered why she had thought Linley looked cold.

“We could talk,” said Max, catching Linley's hands and holding them.

“Talk?” she said, and Claire, thought, no, not cold. Frozen.

Claire must have made some sound, because Linley's head turned.

“Claire,” she said, as if she'd forgotten about Claire. “There's Claire. There's always Claire. Always there. Always there Claire.”

Claire took a step back at the sudden venom in Linley's voice. She'd clearly stayed too long at this party.

“Claire likes to listen, don't you Claire? It's so much safer than living, isn't it Claire? Wait! I know! You don't need me! Why don't you just talk to Claire—”

“Linley,” interrupted Max. “It's you I want to talk to. We need to talk.”

“Talk!” Linley spat. “What about? Talk to Claire. She'll say, ‘Oh, poor Max. Oh that awful Linley. You had to leave her. You had to treat her like leftover meat. Poor,
poor
Max.'”

“You don't really believe that,” he said.

Her face hot, her mind whirling, Claire turned to go. She had to get away. Linley's voice was so full of anger, of contempt. What had she done to make Linley hate her so much?

Linley's voice followed her. “Claire the good, Claire the perfect, slumming in California for the summer. Ask her to listen to you. She'll say the right thing. She'll do the right thing. She always does, don't you, Claire? Everybody loves Claire, don't they, Claire?

Claire whirled around. “Stop it, Linley. You don't know what you're saying!”

But Linley wouldn't stop. “Helping Jodi out, Jodi's new best friend, planning biiiig parties, moving into my life and my house . . .”

“You asked me! You talked me into it!” Claire gasped.

“Linley, you don't want to do this,” Max said.

“And now Max. You want Max, too, don't you!”

“No . . .”

“You'd think Finn would be enough for Miss Good and Perfect. I let you have Finn . . .”

“Oh!” Claire gasped. “You let me? You
let
me? You think Finn wants you?”

“Given the choice between me and you?” Linley laughed angrily.

“He might want to get lucky with you,” said Claire, “although from what I've seen, it doesn't take much luck or anything else to have it off with you. But he knows he can do a lot better than you. Hell, anybody can.”

“Is that what you think?” Linley screamed. “Like you'd know.”

“It's what Max thinks,” said Claire, coldly and cruelly. “That's probably why he left you the way he did. And probably why he doesn't want you now.”

Linley lunged toward Claire and if Max hadn't been holding her, they might have been at each other like a bad movie. But he held on tight and before Linley could say anything else, Claire turned and ran into the house.

She was shaking. She'd never been so angry in her life, so coldly, clearly angry.

Behind her, she heard Linley shouting something. She heard Max's voice, loud and stern. Moving like a cartoon robot, she went up the stairs.

She passed Jodi's room and stopped. Claire wanted to talk to somebody, she needed to talk to somebody.

But although the door was open and the light was on, Jodi wasn't inside.

Claire kept going, past her own room and all the way to Finn's door. She knocked.

After a moment, he said, “Hello?”

“It's me,” said Claire, pushing open the door.

She'd learned a lot about herself that summer, and that night in the bar, and now she learned one more thing. A guy was almost always glad to see you get into his bed.

Claire was glad to know that, too. Because it meant that Max saying no all summer to Linley had to hurt even worse.

And Claire wanted Linley to hurt.

Sixteen

“Want to go surfing?” Claire asked Jodi one morning. She'd found her standing in the middle of the deck, staring at nothing.

Jodi blinked, found Claire's name, and said, “Claire.”

“Yes, that's me. Going surfing.” Claire found herself making the wave motion that was Finn's description of everything from surfing to the living is easy. Jodi went from moody to spacey to just plain literally absent these days. And she'd taken to locking the door of her room, which Claire had discovered by accident earlier when she'd tried to go in to leave change from the grocery money. She'd ended up taping it to the door in an envelope.

Not that she was going to mention the locked-door thing, because it wasn't any of her business. She would respect Jodi's privacy, unless of course Jodi was locking her door because she was keeping a truly frightening amount of stash in her room, in which case Claire
was
going to mention it.

She just hadn't figured out how. Now wasn't the time. Now she was going surfing.

“I don't know . . . ,” Jodi said.

“We could make more end-of-summer party plans,” Claire offered. She was going ahead with the party plans in spite of the deep and icy distance that had opened between her and Linley.

“You're going alone? You should never surf alone.”

“I'm not going alone if you're coming with me. And if you do come with me, you have to show me a new set. I've been going over to the hotel beach every day after work, so technically, I'm not surfing alone.”

“Finn's beach,” said Jodi, her mood changing. She singsonged, “Finn and Claire, sitting in the sea, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

“Good to know your IQ matches your age,” said Claire. “Are you coming, or not?”

“Coming,” said Jodi, reverting to her normal hyper mode. “Give me five.”

An hour later, as Claire completed a ride and paddled back out with Jodi, Jodi said, “You're becoming decent.”

“Practice,” said Claire.

“And love,” added Jodi slyly.

“Finn, you mean?” Claire thought about Finn and couldn't help smiling.

“So it's been Finn and the surfboard these last few weeks,” Jodi went on.

“Can't have one without the other,” Claire said lightly. She knew he had a private lesson that afternoon. With the same girl who'd been buying his time for the past two weeks. She tried not to be jealous, but it was hard.

Of course, Finn wasn't interested. He loved her, even if he'd never said the words. Not exactly.

They coasted up a swell and down again. “I mean, you haven't been around much,” Jodi went on.

Claire was surprised Jodi had noticed. She wondered what else Jodi had picked up on. Had she noticed the cool distance Linley and Claire were keeping from each other?