Page 38 of The End of Summer

If I had to venture a guess, I would say about 30 seconds pass. Of course, when certain things happen, they appear as though they’re occurring in slow motion, so itfeelsmore like entire minutes – but before I can registerthe next series of events, Miranda has pushed my temporary dance partner aside. “I need to talk to him,” she says. Her words are dizzier than before. The blonde shrugs and two steps over behind Billy, who’s eyeballing me with an expression that silently asks if I’m okay.

“I never said I’m sorry,” Miranda says, leaning in to make sure I can hear her.

“It was a long time ago,” I reply. I place my hands on her hips to create distance, but she smacks them away and takes a step in closer to me. Uncomfortably, I continue. “Water under the bridge.”

“I felt bad. It wasn’t what you thought. Come outside, Brady. Come and talk to me.”

“I’m working,” I say. It’s code forleave me alone, although the fact that I’m currently not wearing a shirt maybe sends mixed signals.

“So, you can work on me,” she replies, and before I can stop her, she’s got her lips on mine and she is forcing her tongue into my mouth like a serpent.

I put my hands on Miranda’s shoulders and remove her from my face. Next thing I know, Billy’s beside me. “Yo – you can’t do that, bro,” he whispers in my ear. “You could get fired. Don’t kiss anyone.”

I nod, unable to say anything because the music jacks back up and the first few beats indicate that it’s time for our flash mob hip hop dance to begin. We step out – one, two, three, four – slide to the left, put up one bicep, two, then kiss each one, grab the front of our pants on our upper thighs and pop, pop, pop, rip them off. The ladies squeal with delight, and Miranda’s eyes grow so wide I think they mightjust fall out onto the floor. In matching thongs, we shake our asses, lean back, hip thrust our junk into the eager crowd of ladies and then me and Dex head to the back of the makeshift stage to grab our confetti cannons while Billy and Jay grab the Gatorade cooler. It’s only a little bit full, just enough to create the illusion of water splashing everywhere. Once we hear the beat drop – boom, boom, boom, boom – and DJ Khaled shouts his own name, Dex and me pull back the cannons and then –pow!– confetti rains down everywhere and Max stands in the middle of the stage with his arms up to the sky, relishing the water being spilled all over him. It’s a fucking spectacle, to say the least. But the dollars rain down too, and I know that the rehearsing was worth it. The ground is littered with tens and twenties, none of the amateur hour situation from yesterday with all the singles.

It issomuch money.

Gretchen and the girls finally come down from the poles and each of them grabs a tray of shots to distribute. Now that the show is coming to its finale, the goal is to get the ladies as lit as possible without making anyone sick. I watch her as she smiles while doling a tray of shots out to the girls nearest my side of the stage, which is perfect because the song ends, and I’m finally able to get close enough to talk to her.

“Got an extra?” I ask, nodding at the shots.

She hands one to me, but I can tell something’s off.

Of course.I can smell the Chanel permeating off her skin before I even see Miranda standing beside me.

“I’ll take a shot,” she slurs, slidingher arm around me.

Gretchen’s brows knit together. “Um, here,” she says, handing off another shot to Miranda. “How do you two know each other?” she asks.

Miranda looks at me with an intoxicated blank stare. Her body leans into me. “Brady and I used to be inlove,” she swoons.

I try to stand her upright and offer my two cents, but Gretchen shoots me a death scowl and says, “How nice for you.” Without another word, she turns and glides off.

CHAPTER TEN

GRETCHEN

Iguess that explains it,I think.

That explains the way he was making out with her on the dance floor in front of me.

Here I thought we had some – I don’t know,chemistryor something! But I was obviously wrong because not only did he show up here on the worst night ever for me, where I’m out here humiliating myself pretending to be some kind of dancer, but he brought along somegroupiechick who obviously is totally familiar with everysexy as fuckdance move the guy can throw down.

The guys are all down on the dance floor so I storm away from Brady and his long-lost lover in the only direction that’s wide open – the stage area. I walk as quickly as I can given my choice of footwear, holding the few remaining shots I have on the tray out in front of me. The shot tray, coupled with the darkness, seems to create a blind spot for me because the next thing I know I’m flat on my ass in a puddle of water in the middle of the stage.

Dumbfounded, I sit there for what feels like an eternity despite realistically being only a moment or two. I feel the tears sting my eyes and Arrow yell, “Seriously?” My ass and my left elbow hurt, and pink Jell-O in tinyplastic cups is strewn about amidst the wet dead presidents on the stage floor. But, before I can even collect myself to stand up, I’m being lifted up and swiftly carried off like a groom carries his bride over the threshold of their new home.

I know it’s Brady without even looking at him.

First of all, I can feel it in his grip – he’s firm but not rough.

Secondly, I can smell it. It’s the same smell from last night when he danced with me – a particular combination of Irish Spring soap, Old Spice deodorant, and coconut oil.

A tear slides down my cheek, and he leans his face down to mine and whispers, “I got you.” The smooth sound of his voice puts me over the edge.

More tears fall, and all I can think is that I can’t stand to lose a second job on account of not being able to walk in high heels.

Brady carries me into the back office and sits me down on the desk. I move my hand to wipe my eyes but he stops me. “Wait,” he says. “Let me do it. You’ll smudge.” He grabs a paper towel from the roll on the desk and dabs under my eyes gently, saving me from destroying my face but also from inadvertently pulling off my fake eyelashes. It’s very sweet, and if it weren’t for the fact thatthe love of his life or whateverwas just steps away, I might have found myself insanely attracted to him in this moment.

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