“Here, let me buzz you in," she says, slurring her words just a little.
We drive down a large circular driveway with magnificent oaks lining the road. This is probably the biggest house that I've seen the whole time I've been here and it blows my mind away.
Allison comes out in a short summer dress over a white bathing suit. Her hair is drenched and her skin is deeply tanned, something that she could always do after just a few days in the sun.
"Hey, sweetie," she says, holding a cocktail and wrapping her arms around my neck. "How did you find me?"
"We tracked your phone. Where have you been?"
"Oh, Lincoln," she says, seeing him get out of the car. The expression on her face immediately changes.
"I thought something happened to you."
"How do you know each other?" she asks.
"This is Dante's brother."
"Oh," she mumbles, looking down at her feet. The pedicure is new and so is the manicure.
"What happened?" I pull her away to one side. "What are you doing here? What is this place?"
"Well, after a fabulous time last night, Lincoln dropped me off. I slept a little bit and then I went to get some food since you have practically abandoned me living with Dante this whole weekend."
"That's not what I'm doing."
"Okay, whatever. Anyway, out on Main Street, I got my nails done, got some coffee, and ran into this guy."
"What guy?"
"Richard," she says and almost on cue he emerges out of the house.
32
Jacqueline
The man standing in the doorway is broad shouldered with peppered gray hair a little long around the ears. He has a nice warm tan that stands out against his loose fitting dress shirt and L.L. Bean shorts paired with flip-flops.
His attire is casual, but in that way where you know that he is incredibly wealthy. He looks like he is at least twenty years older than Allison, but has a nice juvenile look on his face, easygoing and casual.
He smiles broadly and without any sort of discomfort and welcomes all of us into his home after shaking our hands.
"Richard and I just met at The Latte," Jacqueline says, referring to the coffee shop back in town.
"Just a few hours ago?" I ask under my breath as the guys walk slightly ahead of me.
"Yeah. He invited me over for some lunch, showed me a nice view of his home, nice view of the ocean."
As we enter through the great room, my mouth nearly drops open as I stare at least twenty feet of glass facing the Atlantic Ocean. The sand right outside is white and clear, and there's a large piano in the corner, sleek and spotless.
"We can't stay long," I protest, but Dante and Lincoln are already swerving around a picture of some exotic car hanging in the foyer.
"I have the real thing here if you want to see," Richard offers and the two of them practically start to drool.
He invites us as well, but I pull Allison aside to have a moment of some private time.
"What is going on here?" I ask her when the men disappear, headed toward the garage on the other side of the building.
"Nothing. He's nice, right? A real gentleman."
"But you just met for coffee."
"I know."
"And you were just with Lincoln," I say, somewhat under my breath.
"I know. I feel terrible about that. But it was a party. He was there. I had no idea who he was."
The lack of awkwardness between the two of them makes me incredibly uneasy. "Why are you here? Is this like a romantic thing?"
"Well, I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that we have this insane chemistry, but I'm taking my time."
"What does that mean, that you haven't slept with him yet?"
"I'm entitled to be with whoever I want whenever I want."
"I know. I'm sorry." I throw my hands up and I am.
It’s judgmental and a shitty thing to say.
“It's not that I care about that in particular. I was really worried about you, okay? I thought something happened at the club. I thought that maybe Lincoln had something to do with it after he denied being with you."
"No, Lincoln was a gentlemen. A married gentleman. And of course, he only revealed that fact when he dropped me off so I was a little annoyed."
"You didn't expect anything to happen?”
"No, of course not," she snaps at me and walks toward the kitchen with the two giant quartz kitchen islands, parallel to each other.
The way she moves around the place makes me feel like she's already at home here, and it's only been a few hours.
She opens the fridge, reaches inside, grabs a bottle of water, and offers it to me. I look at the label.
"It's from Iceland," she says when she sees me peering.
"Okay.” I nod, knowing that I should clearly be impressed, God knows how much that costs.
She pours me a glass and one for herself, tapping her nails on the counter.
Her heels make a light clicking sound as she walks on the marble floors. They are so pristine and expertly waxed, that I feel like I might slip and fall with any wrong move.
"Look, last night, I was really mad at you," Allison says, tossing her hair.
She's definitely hungover, but she's holding everything in quite well. That's probably why she sounded so tired and a little bit slurred in her speech earlier.
"I had a good time. I went to the party and I met Lincoln and we had a good time. I didn't expect him to call me or anything like that, but I also didn't expect him to be married, which is something that he just happened to announce when he dropped me off: happily married and expecting a child, so you know how that is."
I shake my head.
"And then I was, of course, mad at you."
Her eyes laser-focus on mine.
"I'm sorry," I say after a pause. "I know this weekend is nothing like it should have been. It should have been a girls’ trip. I ran into Dante and his whole family's here, so it's been unfair. How can I make this up to you?"
"I don't know," Allison says, propping her head up with one hand, tapping her index finger on her cheek, "but I'll think about it."
She's back to her joking self, easygoing, casual. It’s my favorite kind of Allison.
Dante, Lincoln, and Richard emerge from the other side of the house with placid and entranced looks on their faces. Richard looks just as unbothered as he was earlier, clearly used to making impressions on impressionable people.
"You should see this guy's garage," Dante gushes. "I mean, the cars that he has in there? 1964 Ferrari 250 LM, 1994 McLaren F1 LM, 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spider. I'm just blown away."
"You know, you get old enough, you start to collect things."
"I want to grow up to be just like you," Dante says, and we all laugh.
Richard offers to make us a round of drinks and pulls out a pre-made charcuterie board filled with fruit, hummus, pita chips, crab legs, caviar, and an assortment of other delicacies.
"Let's go out on the patio," he says. "We can get to know each other a little bit."