He returned with two jugs of cold water and an anxious expression.
“Are we cool?” he asked.
“Not yet, but we will be.”
“Yeah, I deserved that. And… I know it’s a lot to ask, but please don’t tell the girls.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. It was nice and shiny, since he hadn’t been loading debris by hand all day. “You wanna knock off early?”
“Not really. I need to learn how to do this. You need to put the bucket on the Bobcat. You can load this mess while I break up the bigger pieces.” Like the section of roof that slid down the hill. “I’ll move around the pile and work from the other side. Then you’ll have room to load up here.”
“Want me to show you how to move it?”
“No.”
“Are you su—? Never mind. You’ll figure it out.”
I nodded.
“Okay. Then I’ll get to work.”
“You do that.”
* * *
My temper had cooled for real by the time we finished for the day. I was cooler in general, which helped immensely. The cab of the backhoe wasn’t a tropical paradise with an ocean breeze, but it was better than working in the heat, grit, and danger at ground level.
“That was a good idea with the Bobcat,” Trip said as we drove back to the Retreat. “I should’ve thought of it myself.”
“It’s why you have a partner.”
“Yeah, but you’re the design guy.”
“I can still come up with practical ideas.” Especially when I’m roasting in my own juices while you sit on your butt and listen to the radio. I hid it behind a bland smile, and Trip didn’t suspect a thing. He looked like he wanted to change the subject anyway. I knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth, and he didn’t disappoint.
“So… what’s up with Brooke?”
I decided to have a little fun at his expense. “What do you mean?”
“Does she want to try swinging?”
“No clue.”
“What? But… I thought—?”
“We haven’t talked about it,” I lied with a shrug.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Who me?”
“Yes, you.”
“At least I’m not trying to kill you.”
He grimaced. “I said I’m sorry.”
“I know. But I’m going to borrow a line from Joska. You’ll have to do better, Mr. Whitman.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. I will. I swear.” He waited long enough for me to nod. “You still didn’t answer my question,” he said. “What’s up with Brooke?”
“And I thought I was a horndog?”
“Dude! She’s major league! Her tits… her ass… her face… a total babe. I wish she’d left a little grass on the field, but I’m not complaining.” He thought about it. “Hold on, does the carpet match the drapes?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. A red bush is sexy.”
I shrugged indifferently.
“Maybe not to you, but I’m not a weirdo. Whoa, sorry! Let me rephrase. I’m not… um… as picky as you.”
“Better.”
“But I guess you’re right. It’s all pink on the inside.”
I sighed. He wasn’t a jerk, even though he kept using sexist clichés. It wouldn’t help to explain, either. He was a product of his upbringing and society. Besides, he was the normal one, while I stood out for being different. I was more enlightened, but it didn’t matter. The world wasn’t likely to change any time soon.
“Dude, you’re killin’ me!”
I blinked and suffered a moment of panic when I thought I’d spoken aloud.
“Does she or doesn’t she?” Trip insisted.
“Does she what?”
“Want to try swinging!”
“Seriously? What do you think? She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.”
“That’s what Wren said, but—”
“Relax,” I told him. “She’ll do it when she’s ready.”
“All right, Carnac, O Great Sage, when will that be?”
“When she’s ready. Until then, chill out.”
“Easy for you to say,” he shot back. “You’re already sleeping with her. What’s it like?”
“You know I’m not going to tell you.”
He huffed in annoyance and sounded exactly like Wren.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I said. “She thinks you’re cute—”
“She does?”
“—and funny. And she likes when you talk to her instead of her tits. So talk about baseball. Or bring out your guitar. That’ll make Christy happy too.”
“And when she’s happy, everyone’s happy.” He snorted. “She’s a little diva, isn’t she? Whoa, sorry! I keep sticking my foot in my mouth.”
You keep talking.
“I meant she likes to be in control.”
“And that bugs you.”
“No, of course not,” he lied. Then he tried to make it a joke instead. “But it doesn’t bode well for you.”
“Oh, it bodes just fine. We want the same things.”
“Whatever. So… have you decided when you’re going to pop the question?”
“Not yet,” I snapped. “You’ll be the first to know when I do.”
Why did everyone keep pestering me about it? It wasn’t any of their business! They all had good intentions, but it was between Christy and me. I inhaled through my nose and tried to relax.
“Hey, I’m just asking,” Trip said. “No pressure, but… Wren wants to plan a party.”
“I know. She told me.”
He nodded and fell silent. Then he grinned at me sideways. “So… baseball, huh?”
I could always count on him to think with his dick.
“Okay. Batter up!”
* * *
The sun eventually disappeared behind hazy clouds in the west, although the earth held on to its heat like a jealous mistress. We opted for climate control over poolside ambiance, and Wren served dinner in the clubhouse.
In my personal world, I felt better after a shower but was still wrung out. And I’d probably lost several pounds, just in water weight. My headache had faded, but my appetite hadn’t returned. Christy touched my knee.
Are you okay?
Yeah. Just worn out. Long day.
She nodded, and I read her as easily as if she’d spoken aloud. We hadn’t been alone together in two days, and she needed some attention. I pushed back from the table.
“Have dessert without us,” I told the others. “We’re gonna go for a swim instead.”
“Are you sure?” Wren asked. “Never mind. I’ll save you a piece of cake.”
Christy thanked her with a smile.
“None for me,” I said.
“That’s okay,” Christy said, “I’ll eat his.”
Wren and I had the same thought, and we shared a smirk as I pulled out Christy’s chair.
Then Trip caught my eye. I turned serious at his unspoken question and answered with a nod. Yes, I was feeling better. And yes, we were still friends. He relaxed and gave Wren an “I’ll tell you later” look. Brooke watched the silent exchanges and shifted uncomfortably.
Wren noticed and asked, “Is there a game on the radio tonight?”
“Probably,” Trip said. “Dodgers at the Braves.”
“We can listen if you want. Brooke… do you mind?”
“What? No! Not at all.” She stood to leave.
“No,” Wren laughed, “I didn’t mean go. I meant, do you mind if we listen? You included.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought…”
“I’m not that much of a bitch, am I?”
“No, of course not!”
“I’m kidding.” Wren smiled and added, “Help me clear the table and then I’ll clean the kitchen while you and Trip listen to the game.”
“I can help in the kitchen,” Brooke said.
“No, I’ll do it. You and Trip relax and enjoy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I wondered if Trip understood what Wren was doing. Christy certainly did, although she seemed resigned more than happy. I thought I understood why. I couldn’t do anything about it, so I opened the door and followed her out.