Such a Rush(34)
Author: Jennifer Echols

After calling good-bye to Alec (but not Grayson), I stopped in at the airport office to give the phone back to Leon, then hiked back to my trailer. Took another shower and stood on the toilet again, leaning way over to glimpse the only clubbing dress I owned in the mirror. I wanted Grayson to know I was trying to look cute for Alec.

As I examined my smoky makeup and cheap dress, jealousy of Molly came creeping back. She would be wearing a sexy clubbing dress her mother had bought her at a boutique on a shopping trip to Atlanta. It would not be the worst thing in the world if Grayson fell for her. I loved Molly, and although I was very angry with Grayson all over again for the way he’d treated me about cashing the check, something about him made me watch him, keep track of his whereabouts, wish the best for him. Maybe I should wish for him to be with Molly.

But my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten since lunch and twisted in knots at the thought of Grayson unexpectedly falling for Molly tonight. No matter how well I wished them, I didn’t want them together.

My gaze drifted from my makeup to my hair hanging in wet ringlets. Drying it curly with a diffuser, as usual, would take ten minutes. Blowing it out and straightening it with my thrift store flat-iron would take forty-five—which is why I never did this, though straight was the style at school.

But I had forty-five minutes before the boys picked me up. Picturing Grayson’s first glance at Molly with her long, sleek auburn hair shining in the sun, I fished underneath the sink for my fat round brush.

Arms aching from holding the brush and the dryer over my head, I was sitting in one of the plastic chairs outside the trailer when Alec pulled up in his car. I hadn’t wanted to get all dusty, or to sit listening to the pit bull while I waited. But waiting outside was better than having him climb the cement blocks and knock on the door. I crossed my legs and let my skirt ride way up my thighs, hoping this would prove a distraction from the lichen-covered trailer. Then I hopped up and skipped across the gravel before he could turn the car off.

Grayson, looking down and thumbing his phone, climbed out of the passenger side. He glanced up at me—and squared his shoulders, taking a longer look at me than he’d intended.

Though I’d obviously gotten his attention, he didn’t comment on my hair. He said nothing at all. He left the car door open for me and slid into the backseat.

Fine. I eased onto the front seat he’d vacated and told Alec, “Hi!”

“Hey!” Alec exclaimed with a brilliant smile. “Wow, your hair is so different! You look beautiful.”

“Thank you!” I didn’t want him to look too closely at his surroundings as he turned the car around, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. After spending all day at the same risky job, we still didn’t seem to have much in common. I settled for tugging my skirt down—just a little—drawing attention to my thighs. Then I pulled my strangely smooth hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t hide my cle**age. I flipped down the sunshade and checked my perfect makeup in the mirror, like an idiot. I watched myself grin, and I glanced over at him.

He was staring at my cle**age. Score! Then, pulling to a stop at the highway and waiting for traffic to pass, he looked around us and made the only comment he could think of. “Hey, a real washateria! I didn’t know those still existed. Maybe I’ll walk over from the airport and wash clothes sometime.”

You lame-ass. I interrupted his pitiful attempt to make conversation with the trailer park girl before he embarrassed himself further. “It’s broken. All the dryers have been broken for a while. The last washer broke last week.”

“Why don’t you ask the owner to fix it?” he asked in the logical tone of someone who’d never had a landlord.

“The owner doesn’t care,” I explained patiently. “I’m the only one still doing laundry here. Everybody else goes to the washateria closer to town, by the library.”

“Why don’t you go there too?”

“Because I don’t have a car.”

He tilted his head back, half of a nod, considering. He lowered his chin again as he asked, “But why do they go there, when this one is so much closer?”

“Because all of the washers and dryers are broken.” I wasn’t sure why I found this discussion so annoying. I had discussions like this with guidance counselors sometimes, and with Molly more frequently, and my explanation of why I did things a certain way always came out bitter. Rich people didn’t want to hear bitter.

Alec pulled onto the highway. I looked out the window at Heaven Beach passing by. I saw it so rarely that I never got tired of looking, even on the flophouse side of town. The hour was late for beachgoers and early for partygoers. But it was spring break, so the sidewalks were crowded with sunburned, tattooed, half-naked people sipping frozen cocktails from huge plastic cups. The scent of frying food drifted through the windows, and the smell of coconut tanning oil that only people who’d never heard of cancer would use.

Grayson’s phone made a sound directly behind me. He probably had a message from a girl he wasn’t blackmailing.

Alec made a comment occasionally. Unlike Grayson, he knew how not to be rude. But when we were halfway to Molly’s, even he was running out of words. He reached forward and turned up the volume on the car radio, which was tuned to a country station.

Soon we reached the nice end of the beach. I’d been here before, mostly eating at the café with Molly or crashing at her house for a few hours. I hadn’t gotten used to it. It looked like beach towns on TV, not real life. If I hadn’t just ridden in the car for twenty minutes, I would have thought we’d arrived in a different country. The palms were the same species, but spaced out, aligned, planted on purpose. The buildings weren’t made of corrugated metal. They were rock and stucco with thick foundations, built to withstand hurricanes. There was grass and it was green. The sprinklers were on at several condo complexes we passed. The sprinkler streams weren’t always directed correctly. Water sprayed across the wide sidewalks and into the street.

The sound of water beating on the hood startled Grayson. A thunk sounded behind Alec’s seat. Grayson bent over, his T-shirt riding up his tanned back, feeling around for his phone.

“Is that your friend?” Alec asked me as he pulled into the parking lot of Molly’s café. Her long, sleek hair was not as long and sleek as mine. But her dress was low-cut and obviously expensive. It’s hard to explain the look of expensive, but there was something about the way the fabric fell exactly right. She wasn’t model pretty, but she looked like a model in her glam dress, standing outside the expensive new café built to resemble an old beach shack. At least, she looked like a model while she wore a pensive expression, shading her eyes to gaze down the road for us. Then she recognized me in the car, and she waved frantically, like I might not see her standing there. Her boobs jiggled.