Summer of Seventeen Read online

  “Is it always like that?” I asked Marcus.

  He grinned at me.

  “If you can’t handle the heat…”

  I was kind of afraid to go near their end of the bar for the rest of the evening.

  “Look at those legs,” said Frank, scanning up and down the one who’d grabbed me. “I wonder how far up they go. I wonder how far up them I could go.”

  Frank’s buddy shook his head. “No chance, bro. They’re a bunch of stuck up princesses. I fuckin’ hate this time of year.”

  Frank shook his head in amazement.

  “Are you kidding? It’s when all the talent arrives! Long legs and short skirts. Gotta love summer.”

  The older guy snorted. “Vacationers from the city or flying in from NYC, looking down their noses at us, like we’re a bunch of hicks. Prices go up, everywhere is busy, and I can’t park outside my building.”

  Then Steve, the Sandbar’s owner joined in.

  “Yeah, well summer is the only time most of us make any money. Without visitors this place would be screwed.”

  I hadn’t thought about it like that before. But especially since the Shuttle program had wound down, a lot of people had lost their jobs. Transient workers always came to this part of Florida, but more kids than usual had left during Junior year because their parents went to look for work in other towns.

  The funny thing about living in a place where people come for their vacation is that you always somehow sort of feel like you’re missing out. Vacationers come with their spending money, all excited because they’re seeing the ocean or the beach, or renting a boogie board for the first time, and it’s stuff that you’ve known your whole life. And they always tell you that you’re lucky to live here. And I guess it’s true, because even though I was brought up in Cocoa Beach, I love to look at the ocean. I love to watch and work out what sort of mood it’s in today.

  Is it going to be an easy paddle-out day, or is it going to be a gnarly bitch that chews you up and spits you out? Or is it going to be mirror flat, only the faintest pulse telling you that the waves aren’t dead, they’re just resting.

  On the crappy days—what they’d call crappy because there’s no sun, even if there are awesome waves—vacationers head to the city or Disney World or Universal Studios; but on the good days, they all come back to the beach, so all the best days of the year, there’s a bunch of strangers everywhere, and the locals get the leftovers. It makes some people mean, and if they get the chance to piss off a tourist, they will. But all the businesses want tourists because it’s money.

  Then there’s all the part-time, seasonal work; not much full-time or even that well paid. Me, I’d be happy working in a surf shop forever, renting out boards or teaching people to catch their first wave. I think that would be a pretty cool. But if you want the kind of job that needs a college degree, you have to quit the beach and head for the city. Mostly.

  Or you can be a teacher.

  But how many people like school so much they want to spend the rest of their lives in a place that smells of disinfectant and guys who haven’t learned that deodorant is their friend?

  Maybe a few jocks and some of the princesses love high school, but it’s hard work being popular.

  I get along with most people. I hang with the jocks, smoke with the stoners, and get invited to all the cool parties as well as the slacker parties. I’m kinda second rung popular—maybe because I don’t care about any of it.

  Sean’s brothers were all popular, playing on the football team or going out for baseball. I think that’s why his parents give him such a hard time because he only ever wanted to surf or party. But to be first rung popular, you gotta always be ‘on’, like happy, so people want to be around you. You’ve gotta go to all the parties, and make them cool just because you’re there. If you’re a dude, you’ve gotta get Bs or you’ll get kicked off the teams, and you’ve got to sleep with the cheerleaders, even if you think a girl is dumber than dirt. And if you’re a girl, you’ve got to have the looks and the right clothes and sleep with the right guys. Or you gotta be real smart and hot—like Yansi.

  God, I missed her.

  I’d sent her 23 text messages, seven emails, and had tried to call her twice—one time going straight to voicemail, and the other she cut me off before I could do more than breathe.

  The difference between me and my sister: I already knew what I’d lost—I’d never needed or wanted any time to think about it.

  But it was kind of cool talking to Julia. More like she thought of me as an adult for a change. I mean, not always: she still nagged me about leaving dirty dishes in my room, but she didn’t seem pissed at me all the time like she used to. Yeah, I liked it.

  I was just getting to the end of my shift when Steve, the manager, walked into the kitchen, a harassed look on his face.

  “Hey kid! Nick! Can you stay a couple more hours? The dishwasher’s broken again and I need to get all this shit cleaned up before we open in the morning. You’re good, right?”

  Ah hell. I really didn’t need this. It was already nearly eleven, which meant if I did two more hours I’d have less than five hours sleep before Mr. Alfaro tried to slave-drive me to death.

  He frowned. “You want the work or not, kid?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

  He nodded curtly. I sighed as he walked away, throwing an evil stare at the stack of dirty dishes and glasses.

  Marcus dropped into the kitchen on his way home and looked at me sympathetically.

  “Rough break, kid. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, sure. Night, Marcus.”

  He winked and left me with my arms covered in suds up to my elbows. Sometimes my life really sucked.

  Two hours later, with my hands red raw, I headed home. By the time I dragged myself up to the house, I was too exhausted to think straight. I felt in my pocket for my keys, and then remembered that I hadn’t picked them up after my shower because I was supposed to be riding with Marcus.

  Fucking great.

  The lamps were still on in his room, a crack of light visible between the curtains. I peered in to check he was still awake, then froze.

  Marcus was sitting back on his bed, resting on his elbows, while the woman who’d worn the bride’s veil in the bar was on her knees, obviously giving him a blowjob. I recognized her because she was still wearing the tiara.

  I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t; I was mesmerized as her head bobbed up and down between his legs.

  Suddenly, Marcus opened his eyes and stared straight at me. I stumbled back, tripping over the uneven paving stones, and landing on my ass.

  Shit! Did he just see me watching him getting blown like I was some freakin’ perv?

  Hot embarrassment flooded through me. I slunk away in the dark, heading for the back door, hoping Julia still kept a spare key hidden in an old beer bottle.

  I snuck into the house feeling like a creepy stalker.

  They were making other noises by the time I climbed the stairs, and I knew that Marcus was fucking her. Was that a normal thing for a bride at her bachelorette party? I didn’t think so. At least I hoped not.

  With that thought, I collapsed face down on the bed, still wearing my beer-smelling clothes, my hands stinking of cigarettes from the ashtrays that I’d cleaned.

  I was asleep in seconds.

  Even so, the next day was rough. I worked through it in a haze, twice slicing my arms on pampas grass, and once tripping over the hose that I was using to water the borders, and faceplanting in the dirt.

  Mr. Alfaro didn’t say much but I could tell he was pissed, because at the end of the day he made me sit in the back of the truck again. I didn’t know if it was because of Yansi or because I’d worn on his last nerve at work by fucking up again. I didn’t really care, so long as he didn’t lecture me.

  I was looking forward to a lot of sleeping when he dropped me off, but Sean was sitting on the doorstep drinking one of my Dr. Peppers.
/>   “Come on, Nick! I’ve been waiting for you, man!”

  He made it sound like it had really put him out.

  “Fuck you, I’ve been working.”

  I’m not even sure he heard me because he just carried on talking.

  “The swell’s three foot and clean—best surf we’ve had in weeks. Julia let me in, so I’ve got your thruster.

  I peered up to see that he’d secured my longboard to his roof-rack already. Good thing I’d fixed the ding a couple of days ago. Then he pushed open the passenger door and yelled at me to sit my ass down. I waved tiredly at Rob who was grinning at me from the back seat.

  I closed my eyes while Sean drove, listening to him and Rob describe some party that they’d been at the night before and all the verbal vomit telling me that I should have been there, and that he and Sean had been so wasted, he’d slept till mid afternoon.

  Lucky bastard.

  A few miles north of the pier, Sean slowed down.

  “Hey, isn’t that Jonno’s truck?”

  I looked up and saw a blue Silverado parked at the side of the road. Behind it, I could see a good swell running up the shore.

  It seemed like a whole bunch of people had the same idea, because several other cars and vans were parked on the shoulder.

  Rob jumped out and unstrapped our boards, while I tried not to fall asleep standing up.

  “Wake up, loser!” Sean laughed, slamming my board into my chest.

  I grunted and then tucked it under my arm while we headed down to the beach.

  Jonno was propped against a large rock when we arrived, sucking on a blunt like his life depended on it.

  “’Sup?”

  “Not much. Offshore. Clean rides. Three to six knots.”

  Sean nodded. “Cool. You seen Marcus?”

  Jonno laughed. “Nah, man. Last known whereabouts leaving the Sandbar with some chick.”

  I remembered what I’d seen the night before and turned away, feeling uncomfortable. Then I heard the engine of a vee-dub, and saw Marcus’ van pull up next to Sean’s car.

  “Speak of the devil,” said Jonno, passing the blunt to Sean.

  When he tried to pass it to me, I shook my head. I’d be out cold if I tried to smoke anything right now.

  Marcus jogged toward us, his surfboard under his arm.

  “Hey, guys! ‘Sup?”

  “Nothing. As usual,” Sean answered, yawning widely.

  “Yeah, just another lousy day in paradise,” laughed Rob.

  “Fuck, you’re cheerful,” Jonno chuckled, shaking his head.

  Rob grinned. “We’re trying to cheer up this miserable fuck,” and he pointed at me.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “His girlfriend dumped his ass when she found out he’d been screwing around.”

  I was majorly pissed. It wasn’t even true, and he knew it. And he said it in front of the guys we were hanging with. They all laughed their asses off when Rob started to tell them what had happened with Erin, and I must have looked like I wanted to smash his face in, because he backed off. But by then, the word was out and it was too late.

  Then Jonno said I was learning from the master, meaning Marcus, and they all acted like I’d done something cool. And the dumb thing was, if it had happened to anyone else, I’d have been laughing too, and think it was the funniest damn thing I’d ever heard.

  But it wasn’t a joke and it had cost me.

  “You’re in the best place for breaking in fresh pussy!” laughed Jonno. “Paradise has got nothing on that.”

  And he pointed to three girls in bikinis who’d arrived in a jeep. Chicks always hung out where guys surfed. I don’t know why, because any guy who’s serious about surfing will always pick a good surf over a girl, no matter how hot she is.

  Well, maybe not, if it was Yansi. Not that she’d give me the time of day now.

  Marcus glanced at the girls then looked away. “So is anyone else going in?”

  “Yeah, I’m in,” said Rob.

  “Me, too,” nodded Sean. “Jonno?”

  Jonno grinned. “I think I’ll just watch the scenery a bit longer. What about you, Nick?”

  Marcus looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Little brother likes to watch, too. Don’t you, Nick?”

  I was so fucking embarrassed, I didn’t know where to look. I could feel my cheeks flushing, so before he could say anything else, I tugged off my t-shirt and picked up my board, ignoring the girls and Marcus.

  No one seemed to think anything of what he said, but I knew what he meant.

  I paddled out through the small breakers to the line-up, sitting there on my board, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

  It was only a few minutes before a set started rising up.

  “That wave’s got my name on it!” yelled Sean, and four of us started racing to catch it.

  Only two of us made it, and I leapt to my feet as I shot down the face of the wave, carving twice and whipping the tail around, before the energy ran out and I bailed.

  I surfed for nearly an hour before my body began to protest. I was beyond tired, and all I could think about was sleeping.

  Marcus had already finished by the time I walked out. I noticed he was talking to one of the girls from the jeep.

  She was cute, different from the usual blonde beach bunnies. For a start, she had real short hair—shorter than mine—and it was a rich dark brown, and very shiny. She wore huge sunglasses and was slim with small breasts. Classy. Not the kind of girl who usually looked interested in Marcus. Or maybe I just didn’t know shit.

  The two other women were sitting in the jeep looking bored.

  “So, Mr. Surfer,” she said, “you surf and you bartend. What else can you do?”

  Her accent was sexy and I guessed that she was Italian or maybe French.

  Marcus looked surprised by her question, but answered quickly.

  “I can cook. Have dinner with me?”

  “But you are American. Americans can’t cook.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t say I cooked well.”

  The woman shook her head, clearly puzzled. “Then why would I have dinner with you?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. This chick wasn’t going to make it easy. For once Marcus would have to work for it.

  He paused, thoughtful. “Don’t you like a challenge?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t like badly cooked food.”

  “I can make coffee.”

  Jeez, the guy was practically begging, but the woman sneered at him.

  “My little sister can make coffee.”

  Marcus looked totally frustrated, running his hands through his hair.

  Then she said, “You can teach me to surf.”

  He looked surprised at that. “Oh, okay, sure. When…?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She smiled for the first time, and I could see why Marcus was interested: her smile was stunning. I found myself smiling back at her, even though I don’t think she’d noticed me.

  “Ciao!” she said, then turned around and jumped into the jeep.

  “I’m Marcus!” he yelled after.

  “Camille!” came her answering cry as the jeep roared away.

  After that, she started showing up at the Sandbar in the evenings. A couple of times with a girlfriend, but mostly by herself. She’d sit at the end of the bar and talk to Marcus when he wasn’t busy. It didn’t stop him flirting with the other customers, because he said that was how he made such great tips, but I never saw him do anything more than flirt. Even when he’d been given a girl’s phone number, he tossed it when she wasn’t looking.

  Julia asked me why Marcus wasn’t home so much anymore, so I told her about Camille. I thought she’d be pleased, but she just shook her head and said that she felt sorry for the girl. I don’t think anyone else felt sorry for her; other girls looked annoyed and jealous. Julia also said that guys like him didn’t change.

  I wasn’t sure she was righ
t about that because life changes you whether you want it to or not. I didn’t feel like the same person I was at the beginning of the summer.

  Julia had changed, too. She seemed … older. I was beginning to understand why she was such a miserable bitch most of the time; having no money was like a constant toothache that you couldn’t do anything about. When you tried to ignore it, it just throbbed like a bastard.

  None of my friends had to worry about shit like if there’d be enough money to pay the next bill that came in. Julia did most of the worrying, and I knew that giving her a hundred bucks a week toward groceries helped, but the rest of my money wasn’t going to last long if I spent it on take-out pizza and getting wasted, like my friends. I hated that I had to think about this stuff. It wasn’t fair. And I hated that it made me feel like a whiny pussy. So I didn’t say anything. Sean knew and he tried to help by throwing in a few extra bucks when we were with the guys. But I didn’t want him paying for me either, so I didn’t hang out as much as I used to.

  I was miserable. And I missed Yansi the way I’d miss an arm or a leg.

  I spent my downtime with Sean and Rob, and Marcus when he wasn’t seeing Camille. We surfed, hung out, smoked some shit, drank beers, and talked trash. Normal stuff.

  The next day, instead of heading straight for the shower and a nap after work before I hauled ass to the Sandbar for job number two, I snagged one of Ben’s beers and sat out on Mom’s old lounge chair in the back yard. I was hidden from the kitchen window, which was deliberate. I didn’t need a lecture from Julia about drinking again.

  I heard her car pull up outside and the front door slam. Ben was with her, and they were talking about me. Again. Oh joy.

  “I don’t like him spending so much time with Marcus.”

  “As long as you’re not spending time with that fucker,” Ben growled.

  There was a long silence before Julia spoke again.

  “He makes everything look too easy. It’s not good for Nicky. He needs to know that life isn’t always going to be a breeze just because he’s good-looking.”

  “Babe, your mom died and Nicky is working his ass off during his summer vacation. He already knows that life isn’t easy. I’m just glad he’s got Yansi. She’s a real nice girl. She’ll keep him grounded.”