Eight Days in the Sun Page 4

  “Welcome.”

  “You didn’t have to leave your little party over there.” She waves a hand toward the three girls, who have their eyes fixed on me as if they are lining me up in their crosshairs. “Like I said, the shot was just my way of saying thanks.” She doesn’t look at me. She looks straight ahead like I’m not even there. There is an edge to her voice. Her mouth is tight. Is it jealousy from what she saw or annoyance because I’m in her space again? Kiran is one book I cannot read no matter how hard I try.

  You’re sending me mixed shots and mixed signals, Shenoy. I’m here and I’m gonna stay for a minute or ten. I wedge myself into the small gap between her and the person next to her. We’re close…almost touching, but not touching at all. The narrow gap feels as wide as the Mexican Gulf. “I’m exactly where I want to be, Kiran.”

  Her straw stops in mid-twirl. She turns toward me. I desperately want to move a lock of hair so I can see her whole face. “Don’t tell me you weren’t having fun being mauled by three girls at once.”

  “Yeah, funny story. I thought it would be fun. Even figured it would make my very own personal greatest hits album. You know, something I can throw on the turntable in my head when I’m alone and in need of some good material. But in the end, it’s just not for me. Besides, it’s gotta be tricky to have an orgy.” I lift up my hands like a sad surrender. “I mean the logistics alone…all those limbs and positions. When I have sex, I’d rather be an actor than a director.”

  She bursts out laughing. “You didn’t look like you were too comfortable.”

  I wonder how long she’s been sitting here.

  She props her elbow on the bar top and leans her head against her open palm. “Before I came down, I was watching Animal Planet in my room and you had an uncanny resemblance to the baby gazelle.”

  “I look like a baby gazelle?”

  “You do. Or at least you did right there.” She tilts her chin in the direction of my previous location. “Right before a pack of hungry lions attacked it. Poor, poor baby gazelle.”

  I can’t stop my smirk. “Baby gazelles are damn adorable, don’t you think?”

  “Adorable is a stretch. I’d say cute.” She twirls a strand of hair. “Yeah, cute sounds right.”

  “I’ll take it. But Shenoy, truth time, you sure you’re not disappointed in me?”

  “Because you were about to have mindless sex with three gorgeous girls?”

  “Because I didn’t have mindless sex with three gorgeous girls. When you put it in perspective, you just witnessed a man walk away from his dream. It kinda makes me weak on some level.”

  She shakes her head, but she does grace me with a smile that makes it clear she picks up on my sarcastic sense of humor. That is one beautiful mouth. “Maybe you’re just not ready for it yet. I bet if you work real hard and it’s meant to be, it’ll happen for you one day.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes. Dreams do come true.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You learned a very important lesson about yourself today, Cutler.” The statement comes out like the closing scene of a family sitcom.

  “I did. Growing up is not easy.”

  “Never is.” She looks down at the shot still sitting on the polished bar top. “You didn’t drink it.”

  “Of all the thousands of shots in all the bars in all the world, why would you order this one for me?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” She asks it so innocently.

  I hold it up. “Do you even know what this is?”

  “No. I told the bartender to get you a specialty shot. Something you might like.”

  “Well, it’s definitely special. It’s a Blow Job.”

  She chokes on her own drink. “No wonder he started laughing. Shit. I suck at ordering drinks.”

  “Actually sucking is a very important part of a blow job.”

  She elbows me. “You have such a dirty mouth.”

  And an even dirtier mind.

  I tip back my beer and swallow the last few dregs.

  “Want another round?” I ask her, setting my empty beer next to her almost empty glass.

  “No thanks. I should go. It’s late.”

  I check my watch. “Shenoy, it’s nine-thirty. Are you on grandma bedtime or something? Do you also have dinner at four PM?”

  She laughs. “I want to get to bed early because I was planning to watch the sunrise tomorrow.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go to bed at all?”

  Her deep brown eyes widen. “What are you saying?”

  God, what am I saying? “Why not just wait up for the sun to show?”

  “Stay up all night?”

  “Yeah. I’ll stay up with you. It’ll be easier to keep each other awake. Look here, you’re on a beach vacation. Plans are for the real world.”

  “This isn’t the real world?”

  “No, Kiran, this… This is a reprieve from reality. This is a time to be spontaneous in a place where you don’t have to set an alarm.”

  Either she’s going to tell me off or dismiss the idea in a polite way. “What will we do all night?”

  Don’t ask me what I want to do with you all night, girl.

  “You up for a walk?” I manage to spit out.

  Chapter 4

  Mason

  We both decide our all-nighter should start with coffee. So we head north out of the hotel parking lot, away from the beach, staying on the sidewalk, in search of caffeine. We pass row after row of hotels lining the Gulf. She points out a few places of interest.

  “The Hilton has a rooftop cigar lounge. The Sandmeridian has canopy beds on the beach and offers hula lessons. The Wilshire has a five-star rotating restaurant complete with a forties era dance floor.”

  “Ever been to any of these places?”

  “Nope. Being a local means you know all about the tourist stuff, but you never do any of it. Although my prom was held at the Wilshire.”

  “How was it?”

  “I didn’t go.”

  “No date?”

  “I had a date.”

  “Don’t tell me the asshole stood you up.”

  She stops walking. We stand still for a moment. She tilts her head and stares up at the top of the Wilshire. There is something in her expression that spells regret in capital letters. “I stood him up.”

  “Why?”

  “Just didn’t want to go. He found another date anyway, so it’s all good.”

  I doubt it was all good for Kiran. Although there is a story there, I can read the big red sign she’s holding up: Proceed with Caution. I should heed it. I really should. “There is a lot of freedom between us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we leave here, you’ll never see me again. You can say anything to me. Who am I except a stranger you met on vacation? I’ll never hold it against you. I won’t judge you. We don’t have to play any games. I really suck at games, anyway.”

  She crosses her arms. “I’ll keep that in mind. Can we talk about something else please?”

  “Yeah.” I say that, but I can’t let go of the conversation. It feels unfinished. “I didn’t go to my prom either.”

  She cocks her head. “You didn’t have a date?”

  “I had offers. As a matter of fact, Sheila McGovern asked me. That was a little too tempting to pass up so I agreed.” Brilliant, Cutler. Inject another girl’s name into the conversation. Nothing says I’m hot for you like talking about girlfriends past.

  Kiran doesn’t appear offended, though. “Oooh, Sheila McGovern.” She arches an eyebrow. “And what makes her so special?”

  “Besides the double cup size?”

  Disappointment flickers on her face. “Misogyny doesn’t suit you.”

  I jut my chin toward her. “What does?”

  “Honesty. I think you’re really honest. I like that about you. Besides, I have a feeling there was something really special about her because it�
�s obvious you wanted to go.”

  She calls me out like a ref on home plate, and rightly so. I inhale a deep breath. “Sheila McGovern was very pretty and really sweet. I had a mad crush on her since freshman year.”

  “Then why didn’t you take her?” She says it as if she feels sorry for Sheila… Or maybe she’s sorry for me.

  “Prom is lame. Anyway, I’m not a total dick. Sheila went with a buddy of mine when I bowed out. They got married last year, so you see it all worked out. In a way, I am somewhat responsible for bringing them together.”

  “Yes, you’re a regular Cupid.”

  “Funny, smartass.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  “Why didn’t you take her?”

  “I told you, prom is lame.”

  “I would have believed you except you already committed to it. Maybe I’m reading you wrong, but you don’t seem like the type of fellow to bail on a commitment.”

  I’m not sure how to answer or if I even want to answer.

  She gestures between the two of us. “Or doesn’t freedom work both ways?”

  “Damn girl, if you gonna serve up some crow, at least sauté it in butter first.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “The only way to serve crow is raw. Now spill it, Cutler. Why didn’t you take pretty, sweet Sheila?”

  “It wasn’t about her as much as it was about me. I hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong. I did bail on her. The whole thing was too overrated and expensive.”

  “Is that what you thought at the time, or what you think now?”

  “At the time. Why do you ask?”

  She wraps the shawl tighter, even though it is an exceptionally warm night. “No reason.”

  “You had a reason for asking. What is it?”

  “It’s an oddball thought for a high school senior. That’s all.”

  “I have always leaned toward odd.”

  Her lips purse, her expression skeptical. “I doubt there is anything odd about you.”

  “It’s time you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “I’m the President of the Oddball Club, Shenoy.”

  She laughs and pats my chest. God, I want to hold her hand right there against my heart for a beat or two longer.

  “That’s my title, buddy.”

  “We’ll have to share the title then. But prom? That was all about money. I’ve always been really careful with money. Not cheap, you understand, but responsible…maybe even frugal in a way.”

  “Money was a problem for you growing up?” She closes her eyes tight and clamps her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. That’s crossing a line. It’s none of my business.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Cross lines all you want.” I shrug it off, although a part of me wants to put up my own red sign with flashing lights to warn her to tread lightly. Why the hell I pried open this can of twisted worms, I have no idea. But I decide to share a part of me anyway because how can I ask it of her without reciprocating? “A year after my father died, my sister and I moved in with my grandma. It became apparent to both of us she was having some major memory problems and health issues.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. She was still herself in the end. Just confused sometimes. I know Alzheimer’s isn’t like that for everyone, so in that sense, we were lucky. The woman still beat my ass in Jeopardy every night. Funny, what the mind remembers. Anyway, I had to become head of the house. When I was sixteen, I got a job after school. I took over the bills and the groceries and the cooking.”

  “You cook?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Impressive.”

  “But doing that stuff makes you realize how little a dollar can stretch. Don’t get me wrong. We weren’t destitute or anything, but we didn’t have a lot of surplus either. When it came to things like prom, I made another choice where to spend the money.”

  “What choice?”

  “A few weeks after Sheila asked me, my sister had an opportunity to visit the Georgia Aquarium for a three-day trip. It’s rated one of the best in the country. Only six students were chosen from the whole school district, and Dana was one of them. We couldn’t swing both things. There was no way I would have stolen the experience from her so I could dress up in a rented tux worn by a hundred other guys before me. Sheila was upset, but she understood. She forgave me.”

  Kiran rubs her eyes and looks away from me.

  “What’s going on with you, girl? Don’t tell me you’re getting weepy on me?”

  “No.” Her voice cracks betraying her answer.

  “Making you cry was definitely not in the plans.”

  She wipes a hand across her cheeks and sniffles. “I’m really not this sappy. It’s just so…freaking sweet. I either had to cry it out or go into a diabetic coma. I chose tears.”

  I struggle to find a joke because the last thing I’m aiming to do is add to Kiran Shenoy’s sad. She’s has a huge surplus of sad. “It’s not a big deal at all.”

  I wish I had a handkerchief for her. But since I’m a dude and this isn’t the eighteenth century, I have nothing to offer her.

  She’s almost in control again except for the slight tremble of her lower lip. “I disagree. It is a very big deal.” She wags her finger at me. “Do me a favor and don’t make me cry again.”

  “Do me a favor and stop asking me probing questions, Barbara Walters.”

  Like a tornado changing course, she laughs. “Deal.” As we pass the Wilshire, she takes another glance back.

  “Hey, it’s too late to go to prom, but we can still check out the revolving restaurant if you want.” I twirl my finger.

  She gives me a puzzled look. Yes, Kiran, I’m asking you on a date. Do I need to send you a formal invitation? Or maybe after all that money talk she thinks I can’t afford it. I really hope it’s the former and she’s confused about my intentions. I rock back and forth on my feet, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

  “It’s overrated and expensive.” Well, that was a decline if I ever heard one.

  Rejection stings like a swarm of pissed-off bees. “Are you trying to be funny? Because I wasn’t joking.”

  “I’m not either.”

  “Do you think I can’t afford it? Is that pity I’m sensing?”

  She shakes her head rapidly. “That thought never crossed my mind.”

  For whatever reason, I believe her. What’s more, I feel relief in her answer. “Then what?”

  “How long are you here for, Cutler?”

  “Eight days in total. Seven days in counting.”

  “Me too. You’re the one who said plans are for the real world. We’re both on vacation so let’s not make any.”

  “Agreed,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.

  We resume our stroll, heading toward the downtown area. The stores are all closed save for a few restaurants and bars. We pass an ice cream shop with its lights still burning. A large neon sign in the window flashes Kirby’s Ice cream. Kiran pauses and looks inside. They have it decorated like a fifties joint, or maybe they never redecorated. The floors are black and white checkers and the walls are a sky blue. There is a long, flecked Formica counter with red swivel stools.

  “Want ice cream?” she asks. “This place is the best. They make it here themselves.”

  “Who would pass up ice cream?”

  “People who suffer from lactose intolerance.”

  I chuckle. “No worries there.”

  I open the door for her. The bells chime above the door signaling our entry. A blast of cold air hits us both. The temperature’s almost frigid compared to the Florida heat.

  The girl behind the counter grimaces. “We’re closing in ten minutes.”

  “Sorry,” Kiran says. She turns back toward the door as if we’ve been caught trespassing. I reach for her arm. She stops instantly, her eyes scanning my hand. Not
that I’m touching any skin. The shawl is thin and soft, but it’s a barrier just the same.

  “We’ll take it to go,” I say to the clerk.

  I turn to Kiran so she can give her order first. She isn’t like me. She checks out every carton inside the display case before making her decision.

  She settles for some crazy chocolate concoction called Chocolate Overdrive. It’s got chunks of fudge and threads of darker chocolate woven into the base. All my plans to kiss her go up in smoke. Fuck you, chocolate. I order a scoop of Blue Moon on a sugar cone. She opens the small purse she carries, but I hold my hand out.

  “It’s on me.” I give her a look that says do not argue. She doesn’t.

  She grabs a few napkins for us. “Thank you, Mason.”

  “Welcome.”

  As soon as we’re on the street again, I regret stopping for ice cream. Her fucking tongue is driving me crazy. I focus on my Blue Moon and try not to stare. Try being the keyword.

  She holds her cone toward me. “Wanna taste?”

  She must think I want some ’cause I keep staring, but it’s not her scoop I’m interested in. “I can’t.”

  “Oh, you’re a germa-phobe.” She turns back toward the store. “I can get a plastic spoon or something.”

  I reach for her wrist. The beat of her pulse rises in the few seconds before I let go. “No Kiran, it’s not that. I’m allergic to chocolate.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”

  “No lie.”

  “Is that a real thing?”

  “For me it is. I’ve never officially been tested, but every time I have chocolate I end up with a migraine.” If I wasn’t staring at her so intently, I would have missed the slight tremble of her lower lip.

  “You really are going to make me cry again, aren’t you? That’s got to be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. You asked me if I pitied you earlier. I swear I didn’t, but I sure do now.” She takes a bite from her scoop. “You’re missing out on so much.”

  “Yeah, it’s…tragic.”

  “It is.” She closes her eyes and licks her lips as if she’s having a divine experience all by herself. The craving hits me in twenty places. I want a taste. And I’m not talking about the damn ice cream either. “Besides the fact you can’t indulge in the awesomeness of chocolate, isn’t this the best ice cream you’ve ever had?”