Asa breeze began to dry her skin, she tried to reflect on herself. Is it me? There are lots of assholes in the world. I can't get this bent out of shape every time one crosses my path. Maybe this was why she'd chosen an academic-based career instead of something more socially connected.
And she knew she had to consider something else, too.
Deep down, in her most hidden subconscious fibers, was she actually jealous of the more attractive woman?
Hell no, she decided. And what was she talking about with Trent? Like now that she's "had" him first, it's okay for me…
The notion just infuriated her more. Trent was a dullard.
She took a few more minutes to shake it off. She was sitting right in front of a vinyl beach bag…
That's Annabelle's bag, she realized. It contained towels, flip-flops, sunglasses, and the like. And right next to it lay a tube of sunblock.
What was Nora thinking?
She looked to the water. Annabelle and Loren had already gone under. So she picked up the tube of sunblock and without even much forethought, scooped a hole in the sand, emptied the lotion into the hole, and covered it. The tube read SPF 45.
Nora refilled it with her own SPF 2.
She looked up to the blazing sun and nearly giggled. Now the bitch can go back to New York barbecued!
She felt like a juvenile delinquent pulling such a prank, but she figured she deserved it. It had been the comment regarding Trent that bothered her most, Like he's her property that she's giving me PERMISSION to use! Yeah, she thinks she's the queen of the hive, all right. Like she's on some horse's ass reality show. Annabelle Island. And Trent's one of her puppy dog grunts.
Nora was discovering her very own Peyton Place.
She pulled off her flippers and mask, then lay back on her towel. The sand beat heat into her back. In spite of the sour mood, she admitted, the water was perfect-clear as gin and just a degree above cooland she did enjoy snorkeling. She was trying to motivate herself to do something-go back on the worm hunt, catch some lobsters, anything. Or she could return to their makeshift examination lab and make some more notes on the strange yellow ovum they'd found in the shower stall. But a sudden fatigue hauled her down. Not enough sleep last night, she realized, eyelids drooping in the sun. She began to nod in and out, the mildest surf-sounds rocking back and forth in her ears…
When she roused herself, it seemed like she'd been sleeping about fifteen minutes. Then she looked at her watch.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
The sun had moved halfway across the sky. It was past noon. Annabelle, lying belly-down on a towel, turned her head to look at Nora. Loren knelt at her side, slowly applying more suntan lotion on the photographer's back.
"Look who's awake," Annabelle said.
"Hey, Nora. You slept the morning away." Loren looked over at her quite sheepishly, while his hands tended Annabelle's back.
"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your associate, Professor Craig. Loren, if you ever decide you don't want to study worms anymore, you'll make a great masseur."
Nora frowned, watching Loren spread more lotion on Annabelle. Look at him. He's getting his jollies being her personal cabana boy. At least there was a tiny satisfaction, though. She thinks he's using heavy sunscreen but it's really only SPF 2. She'll look like a fire truck by the end of the day. The bitch.
Annabelle and Loren suddenly seemed to be squinting over.
"Nora, did you forget to put on sunblock?" Loren asked.
Then Annabelle: "You're looking pretty pink, come to think of it."
An alarm shrieked in Nora's brain. She'd been too busy sabotaging Annabelle, she'd forgotten about herself. She looked with dread to her arms, then her legs, and found herself pink as deli ham. Oh my God! How could I have let this happen?
"I did," she finally admitted. "I forgot to use my block." Then she held up the empty tube, disgusted with her secret.
"You know better than that," Loren told her. "We're marine zoologists, Nora. We're out in the sun ten times more than other people. You've been lying out here for three hours with no block? Of course you'll get burned."
When Nora rubbed her face, even her cheeks hurt. Now I'M the fire truck…
She had a feeling this wasn't going to be one of her better days.
"Loren found a really big nest of the scarlet bristleworms, right in front of an underwater trench and the most fascinating coral configurations," Annabelle informed her next. She spoke with her eyes closed as Loren continued to massage her back. "I got great pictures!"
"Actually it was Nora who found the nest," he at least had the presence of mind to say. "She told us where it was. Thanks, Nora. You were right. We hit the jackpot."
Who gives a shit? Nora glanced, embarrassed, at her pink arms. "That's wonderful. So we can go now?"
"Oh no," Annabelle piped up. "We'll be here a few more days at least. I need pictures of every aspect of the worm's life and its environment. The sun hits the water perfectly at midafternoon. Loren and I need to dive again tomorrow."
It didn't even anger Nora anymore: the way Annabelle excluded her from everything.
"I'm even going to have Loren in a few of the underwater pictures, so his name can go in the article, too."
The only reason I don't bury you, Nora replied in thought, is because I'm too tired to dig the hole.
"And I got plenty more samples for us to catalog for the college," Loren added, "plus some pretty interesting echinoderm fossils that look like they go back to the Cambrian Period."
"The what period?" Annabelle asked.
"Cambrian," Nora answered with no interest. "About sixty million years ago, when invertebrate life was just beginning to soar."
Annabelle was careful not to acknowledge Nora at all. "You also found some other weird things, didn't you, Loren?"
"Couple of translucent megalodae, some multicolored Clitellatas, oh, and a sea potato."
"A sea potato?" the blonde asked, amused. "It's not like a potato we eat, is it?"
Nora smiled. "Yeah, Annabelle. Loren will cook you up some fries in a jiffy."
Loren intervened. "No, it's just called a sea potato. It's actually a sediment-dwelling sea squirt." – -- – -- – -- – - -
Annabelle looked right at Nora and silently mouthed, Kiss my ass. Then she winked.
What gall! For each hour that passed, it occurred to Nora that a conflict would erupt eventually. I guess I shouldn't be getting in any catfights, she realized. The bitch would probably beat me up.
Annabelle rose to her feet and did a long stretch, giving Loren an eyeful. "Thanks for the back rub, Loren. You're a master. But after all that swimming, I think I'll go take a nap." She glanced down to Nora again. "You might want to put some sunblock on Professor Craig, though. She's turning as red as a fire truck."
You would say fire truck. She even steals my analogies.
"Oh, and, Professor? What time will you be cooking that lobster dinner you promised?"
About five minutes after I put my foot up your ass, Nora thought. Instead she just said, "About seven, if that doesn't cramp your sophisticated itinerary."
"Oh, don't worry, it doesn't. See you later!"
A lot later, I hope.
Annabelle traipsed off to the woods.
"What's with all this friction between you and Annabelle?" Loren asked.
"She's just a bossy, arrogant, territorial bitch, that's all. No friction. Women mark their turf, Loren, especially women with implants."
"Oh no, she's natural, she told me."
Nora smiled to herself.
"And there's no reason for the two of you to not get along," he added, fishing in his bag for more sunblock. "We're all in this together, you know."
"Not if you ask her. She treats me like I'm not here."