“No deal,” I respond, but the last word tries to catch in my throat.
“See, I told you.” Noah throws a regulator at Tyler, and I have to stop myself from shouting at them not to fuck with the equipment. If one of those regulators breaks, there’s no dive and I’m out the tank money and likely a job. I need to play this carefully.
Noah’s eyes come back to me. “But you’ve hit that, right?”
My grip on the dive weights tightens, and I’m probably lucky they’re made of lead or they’d likely be cracked in half. I want to chuck one of them at Noah’s head and yell that Jill is sixteen years old and he shouldn’t even be looking at her. He’s got to be in his mid-twenties, for Christ’s sake. And since I can’t yell that, I don’t say anything at all in response, instead letting my molars grind together.
“Ouch,” Tyler joins in. “Better luck next time, dog.” Then he goes for the vodka bottle and extends it to me. “A shot always dulls the pain, right?”
Bran, being a much better friend than I deserve, pipes up at that. “Yo! I’ve been known to get my drink on a time or twelve, but it ain’t a good idea to dive when you’re drunk.”
“We’re not drunk. Just getting a nice little buzz on, right, Ty?” Noah nods at his buddy, but neither of them takes another shot.
I brush by Bran and lower my voice. “I’m dropping the cart off at the truck before I drown these assholes myself.” He pats my back, and I hop onto the pier and grab the cart. I need to calm the hell down and get this dive going. When it’s over, I’ll draw up a contract that includes no drinking and no talking shit about underage girls. Well, I doubt the last part will make it in there, but the drinking part will for sure. Who knows, maybe they started the bottle another night and they’ve only had one or two shots.
By the time I get back, my pulse has evened out, and I’m no longer in danger of separating someone’s head from their shoulders. I step onto the swim platform and start making my way toward the cabin where Noah and Tyler have moved. I’m about to announce that we’re good to go when my body freezes at something Noah says.
“Come on, man. I get to hit that first. The L.A. bullshit was my idea, so you get sloppy seconds. She’s primed.”
“Or I could spill that you’re playin’ her and work the friend card for my thank-you fuck. And, besides, dog, we’ve both seen the way she looks at me. Sweet little J.J.’s got a thing for big Greek cock.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, I’ll be over in the corner with those pink lips wrapped around my dick and an easy exit strategy when this shit wraps next week.”
When I’ve heard people recount memories, saying everything happened in slow motion, I’ve always thought that was bullshit, that they were dramatizing for effect. But now I can honestly say it’s true. I’d like to think my accident taught me my lesson about staying on the straight and narrow and not going looking for trouble. But this time, trouble came looking for me in the form of two vile fuckwads with zero respect for women or common decency.
By the time their asses hit the water, though, they’ve managed to develop a little bit of respect for the hard heel of my left boot as well as Bran’s right fist. Suffice it to say, I’m out the tank money and I couldn’t possibly care less.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JILL
This pseudo truce with Milo is a weight off my shoulders. It’s also weird as hell. But I think we’ve figured out the complicated recipe for household peace. I pretend I don’t notice his “creaky noises,” as I’ve come to call them, and never help him with anything unless he asks first. I also let him have the remote, be sure to park on the far side of the drive, and never eat the last Oreo. He, in turn, makes my coffee in the morning so I don’t accidentally pour in salt instead of sugar and disturb his post-swim zen with my subsequent cursing. He also knows never to ask what I’m watching on my phone when I randomly laugh out loud, and to respond with an affirmative to any questions about fashion, hair, or wine. I’ve gotta say it’s working quite well if the last three days of peace are anything to go by.
The morning after my confession about my Mike-ness and the mess my life has become, I felt more than a little self-conscious. But by the time breakfast was over, any embarrassment had lifted, and it felt good to have shared my troubles with someone. It didn’t hurt that I had the memory of Milo’s sweet words tucked away somewhere in the region of my heart. I wasn’t lying when I said it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I’m just not a hundred percent sure I can believe he really meant it. We’d both had a few drinks and, I don’t know, maybe he was just trying to make me feel better. Or not. I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy!
Either way, though, my mind is way more at ease now, and I’m settling into a new routine with Milo, with work, and with life on the beach.
“Hey, Louisa! Heads up!” Andie raises her tray of bread baskets over my head as she passes, and I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the kitchen like a zombie.
“Sorry!” I duck and shift to the side.
Last week, she would have plowed me over without a word, so it seems Rayna was right and Andie is indeed starting to warm to me.
“You will be!” she yells back. Okay, so we still have a little ways to go.
Camille walks into the kitchen, stopping to say something to Rayna before zeroing in on me. “Oh, Louisa. Just the person I was looking for.” I smile back at her out of reflex because it’s hard not to. “Do you have a minute?”
Since we just opened and nobody has been seated in my section yet, I nod and follow her to her office. When we’re both seated, I glance around the room. I’ve been in here a couple times but never for more than a few seconds, so I haven’t taken stock of the space until now. The walls are covered in framed photographs, some black and white, some color. There are wedding photos, landscapes, and lots of candids. I recognize a younger Camille in several, most of them with a round, smiling man who must be her late husband. Others are of people I’ve never seen before, but they all embody a sense of joy and love. It strikes me how different this all is from Milo’s bare walls. But it’s familiar too, in a way, because my parents’ house feels like this and so does Jenna’s. I’d like to think that by the time I leave, I can manage to surprise Milo with some photos to keep him company.
“So, I’ve come to the decision that you and Louisa are not the right fit.”
My stomach drops. Is she firing me?
I must be awful at hiding my fears because she immediately covers my hand with hers. “Oh, no, dear. I think you’re a wonderful server. The customers adore you, you’re a quick learner, and you rarely make a single error.”
My relieved exhale fills the room. “Well, that’s good to hear. Thanks. I really like working here.” And I do.
“What I meant was you have too much heart and spirit for Louisa. She’s… how do I put this? A kill-joy.”
I cough out a laugh. “A kill-joy?”
“Yes, you know what I mean. A buzz-kill. A goody-two-shoes. A mega-prude. A narc.”