Page 23 of Bad Summer People
“I know, I’m sorry,” said Paul.
She was right. He’d just been floundering for conversation at that point and was trying to engage with Sam.
“Something is definitely going on with Lauren,” said Emily. “The way she looks at Robert… I don’t know. I wonder if she’d cheat on Jason.”
“I would cheat on Jason,” said Paul. “He’s a dick.”
Emily laughed. “He is such a dick, it’s true.”
She got up and went over to Paul, standing behind him and massaging his neck. It felt incredible. He loved his wife.
“Honey, let’s go to bed,” he said, standing up and taking her hand. He caught his reflection in the sliding doors as they went in. He remembered that he really liked his Hawaiian shirt. It was Valentino.
12Jen Weinstein
Jen Weinstein was a cheat. She’d cheated on tests in school, writing the answers on her hands; she cheated in tennis, calling shots out that were in; she cheated at cards, glancing at opponents’ hands when they weren’t looking. And she cheated on men, every single one she’d ever dated, including her husband, Sam, who wouldn’t in a million years have suspected her of doing any of it.
She was currently cheating on Sam with his best friend, Jason Parker, though Jason was just one in a long line of affairs. She even cheated on people she was cheating with. She’d been sleeping with Jason since last summer, but this winter, she’d had a one-off fuck with Tyler Brand, the husband of her friend Natalie Brand. She’d slept with him in his car, a BMW SUV, outside the Scarsdale Tennis Club, where their kids took lessons. Then she got out and went into the club to fetch Lilly.
Both Sam and Jason would be devastated to know that she’d done that, a fact that amused her. How were men so gullible? She’d married the most gullible of all. She loved Sam, she did. He was warm and funny, and he spoiled her, both with money and attention. He was lovely to look at, was great at parties, and was a fantastic, hands-on dad. They still had sex, maybe once or twice a week, and Sam was nicely forceful and interesting in bed. In short, he was an ideal husband, and all Jen’s friends always told her so. But that didn’t mean she could be faithful to him. Oh, no, that had nothing to do with him.
The cheating thing was her own thing. As a psychologist, Jen knew shewas addicted to the novelty of it, that she thrived on the adrenaline of the secret. It wasn’t about the sex, though she did like the sex. It allowed her, as a mother of three small children, to not go insane. She didn’t want to leave Sam and start over; the idea gave her hives. She just wanted to feel alive.
And so this thing with Jason was starting to become a problem. Jason was the first person she’d cheated on Sam with, a million years ago. She’d been faithful to Sam for the first couple of months, a record for her, but then she’d met Jason on Fire Island, and he’d seemed to want her so badly, she just couldn’t resist. That he was Sam’s best friend added to the titillation (in fact, Sam adored Jason, and Jason barely tolerated Sam, which she’d quickly picked up on). It was a onetime thing for her, but she knew Jason was smitten, to the point that he couldn’t stop staring at her at his own wedding to Lauren. Through the years, he’d dropped hints that he was in love—longing looks, finding excuses to be near her—but she’d coolly brushed him off, feeling it would be too complicated and thinking he might be too clingy. Then last summer, she’d turned forty and had an internal meltdown, not that anyone would have known—Jen was always calm and collected. She started to feel suffocated in her own life, suffocated by her children and her beautiful house and perfect husband. Even the affairs didn’t help (at the time, she’d been sleeping with her dentist, Dr. Ada).
So, when Jason drunkenly touched her leg at Rachel’s cocktail party, she let herself lean in instead of pulling away. It’d now been a year, and their affair had only picked up steam, on Jason’s side, at least. He was fully in love with her, which was a dangerous spot to be in. She was worried he was going to do something crazy, like tell Sam or Lauren, and then everything would be ruined. She didn’t want tobewith Jason. This was all getting too messy, particularly because they were now coexisting in such a small town.
For example, this afternoon, July 4, they’d had a quickie at Jen and Sam’s house. Jason had been desperate to see her alone, and they’d not really had the chance other than one late-night meetup at the beach after a party at Rachel’s the first night everyone was in town. But the amount of coordinating, and the attendant risk, made Jen jumpy.
Jason had agreed to play tennis with Sam at noon, when the kids would be at the field for the July 4 games with their babysitter, Luana. Jason texted Sam to cancel tennis at 12:01, when Sam was already there and waiting, while racing down to see Jen at her house. The hope was that Sam would either head to the field, or the store, or perhaps find someone else to play with while Jason and Jen had a scant ten minutes to have sex. They did, in Jen’s son Ross’s room, on hisPAW Patrolbedding. Jason snuck out through the back door, not that anyone would have been suspicious if they’d seen him—he was Sam’s best friend, after all. The whole thing had been unsatisfying and, even for Jen, too close of a call. What if one of the children had come home to pee? What if Sam had decided to come directly back to the house and had run into Jason on his way out?
Jen considered ways to extricate herself from her relationship with Jason. She was lounging on the blue-and-white-striped couch on her gorgeous front porch, sipping an iced tea. Many women, or rather, the kind of women Jen knew, would have balked at inheriting her in-laws’ house instead of buying something of her own. But Jen loved Sam’s parents’ house. It was the perfect mix of shabby chic, seaside décor—sailboat paintings, pillows with anchors—with upscale touches like Viking appliances and customized closets. It was airy and sun-filled and homey. Perhaps Sam’s mom had been trying to create the kind of environment she desired for her son, as opposed to the chaotic mess he’d lived through. Sam, who’d suffered some major anxiety in his youth, was happiest here. Jen, too, loved being on Fire Island. Before Jason, she hadn’t fucked anyone but Sam in this town. It would have felt like too big of a betrayal. This was Sam’s place.
And there he was, standing before her in his damp tennis clothes, curly hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead, a strange look on his face. It was 2:00 p.m., way after he’d been set to play with Jason, but Jen had to act dumb about that.
“How was your game? Did you win?” she asked breezily. She was wearing a tasteful black bikini with an oversize white button-down over it; she’d put it on after Jason had left. Sam swayed but didn’t say anything. He seemed drunk.
“Jason didn’t show,” said Sam, weirdly staccato. “I played with Rachel instead.”
Jen felt her body tense, though she knew there wasn’t yet reason to panic. “Oh, nice, how was that?”
Jen knew Rachel had always been in love with Sam. They’d had a summer-long fling twenty years ago, which Sam had told her all about and which Rachel couldn’t seem to let go. Jen didn’t care. Everyone loved Sam. Women were constantly throwing themselves at him, sometimes right in front of her. He was a flirt, for sure, and Jen assumed he had slept with one or two other women over the course of their marriage. Who hadn’t? But she was never worried about the possibility of him leaving her.
“It was okay; it was Rachel. What have you been up to?” He stared at her, but she refused to acknowledge his gaze.
“Just reading and relaxing. Luana has the kids through dinner and bedtime—remember we have the cocktail party at the club tonight.”
“That’sallyou’ve been doing? Reading?” His voice had an edge that Jen didn’t like. Had he somehow seen her with Jason? Had someone else?
“No, I also went to the store to get milk.” At that, Jen got up and walked through the living room, past the stone fireplace, to the country kitchen in the back of the house. She wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible. Sam took the cue. She heard his footsteps creak up the wooden stairs, and then the door to their room shut. Jen picked up her phone and opened the Signal app, which she used to communicate with Jason, among many, many others.
Jen Weinstein: Have you heard from Sam? He’s acting strange.
Jason Parker: No, he didn’t even respond to me when I canceled tennis. I’ve been at the beach since leaving your house.
Jen Weinstein: Okay, let me know if he contacts you. Something is up.
Sam didn’t emerge from their room until later that afternoon, during the dinnertime ruckus. The kids were shouting and fighting, and Jen was desperate to get out of the house. She didn’t know where Sam’s attitude was coming from, but she didn’t like that he’d been with Rachel beforehand. That woman loved to spin tales, and Jen was worried Rachel had somehow gotten into Sam’s head. Jen had already showered and gotten ready for the party in the guest room—putting on the blue dress that Sam liked, which had been hanging in the wrong closet. Sam came down shaven and handsome in a green button-down. He still wouldn’t look at her.Fuck,thought Jen.Is this it?Sam never got cold with her like this.
