Page 46 of Bad Summer People
“Yes, I’m aware,” said Micah. He turned on his phone flashlight and navigated to the fuse box, right near where Larry Higgins was drunkenly parked. Larry was half-asleep, half–passed out. He was muttering to himself, nonsense that Micah couldn’t understand. Micah banged on the rusty box, which opened with a clang (he must remember to speak to Steve Pond, the yacht club commodore, about fixing the electrical for next summer). He flipped a few switches back and forth, but nothing happened.
“It’s not working,” he called to Willa.
“I can see that!” she called back, laughing.
“I’ll go into the other room and look for some candles,” Micah said. He walked toward the back of the club, careful not to bump into any tables or chairs, and made his way to the supply closet near the doors. He looked up at the big windows that faced the tennis courts, and noticed two beams of light sweeping over the green clay.
He went closer, hidden by the darkness, nearly pressing up against the glass to get a better look. He saw Jen Weinstein and Lauren Parker,both wearing ridiculously large yellow raincoats, hoods pulled up over their heads. They had flashlights in their hands and were looking for… something. Or someone. On the tennis courts? He stepped back into the black, making sure they didn’t spot him through the window. And good thing he did, because not a second later, the lights went back on in the club, illuminating the scuffed wooden walls and floor, the bright green felt of the pool table assaulting Micah’s eyes. He quickly turned and ran back to the bar area. What were Lauren and Jen doing out in the storm together? And what were they searching for?
Willa was still in her seat, scrolling through her phone.
“Can we get out of here now?Please?” she said, not looking up.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” said Micah, frazzled and a bit freaked out. “But you need to help me with Mr. Higgins here.”
Willa sighed and nodded, and the two friends went to work, rousing Larry. Micah put his arm around him and lifted him to his feet. They had a long, wet walk ahead of them.
Rachel Woolf
Rachel Woolf had been drinking at the Anchor Inn, the dive bar in Kismet, the next town over from Salcombe, since earlier that afternoon. When she saw Lauren and Jen heading over to confront her, she’d fled without a destination, turning right on Lighthouse and riding the fifteen minutes over to Kismet on the sandy road that connected the two towns.
She’d now been at the Anchor Inn for hours, who knew how long, and it was dark out and pouring, and she didn’t know where to go or who to call. She was drunk. She didn’t have an umbrella. The bartender, a grizzled Fire Island lifer with a weathered sailor’s face, kept giving her the “get the fuck out of here” look. But Rachel wasn’t budging. She looked at her phone—8:38. No calls or texts. She was the only one left in the bar.
The door crashed open, and Rachel turned fearfully. She hoped it wasn’t Lauren or Jen or Sam or Jason—she’d thrown a bomb, and she didn’t want anything to do with the consequences. She exhaled when she saw it was Robert, soaked through, still in his tennis clothes. He spotted her immediately and collapsed onto the stool next to her. The bartendercame over and silently handed him a dish towel, which Robert used to dry his face and hair.
“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” Robert said as he handed it back.
“There he is, the man of the moment,” said Rachel, patting his back in what she felt was a sisterly manner. “What are you doing in Kismet? Lauren not answering her phone?” Rachel could feel the words slur out of her mouth. She hadn’t meant to be aggressive with him. She was just in a state.
“Very funny,” said Robert. “I told you nothing was happening between us.” He sounded stressed, and his tan forehead looked pinched. “Why areyouhere? Where have you been all day?”
Rachel figured she might as well tell him. Who was he in the scheme of things, anyway? He wouldn’t be back next year. Also, she felt very, very drunk.
“Remember when I mentioned that I knew who Jen was having an affair with?” Robert nodded warily. “Well, it was Jason. As in, Sam’s best friend, Jason. Can you believe it? I saw them together at the beach in the beginning of the summer, and I’d been keeping it to myself this whole time. The entire summer! I still can’t believe she’d do that to Sam. It’sSam.”
Rachel felt like she deserved some praise for this. Robert nodded but didn’t say anything. Rachel went on.
“So, then, when I lost to Jen this morning…” She trailed off, knowing how the rest would sound.
“You mean to tell me that because you were so upset about losing to Jen and Lauren, youtoldSam about Jen and Jason!” Robert let out a big, loud laugh. “You people are all insane,” he said, taking a big sip of his drink. “Fucking lunatics. All of you.”
Rachel looked down at her hands. They looked like her mom’s hands. How had she gotten so old with nothing to show for it? She motioned for the bartender to bring her another vodka soda, but he shook his shaggy head. Fuck him.
“You haven’t told me why you’re here,” said Rachel. “Out in the storm alone. It’s odd, Robert, I have to say.”
“Oh, I was just looking for someone, that’s all,” he said.
Rachel assumed he meant Lauren. She wondered where Lauren and Jen were now. And Sam and Jason, for that matter. She worried that Sam was going to do something dramatic. He was unpredictable lately. What would he do to Jason? Robert swigged the rest of his whiskey and put a twenty down on the bar.
“Let’s go. You have to go home, and so do I. You think you can hide from your friends forever?”
She did, in fact, want to stay hidden for good. It hadn’t been her mess, but she’d made it even bigger. What would happen to them after the summer was over? Would Salcombe ever be the same for her? The thought of heading back to the city gave her a stomachache. Back to her normal, sad life.
She slid off the stool, and the two of them walked out into the gale. It was so windy and rainy she could barely pedal her bike—Robert led the way on his, down a narrow, unkempt boardwalk that opened to the dirt road back home.
Rachel was wobbly; drunk-riding through a huge storm was a difficult task. Twice, she ran into the bushes off the side of the walk, one time scraping her wet face on a branch, yelling for Robert to come help her. She could hardly see a foot in front of her. After nearly thirty minutes of struggling, they spotted the streetlamp on West Walk, which marked the beginning of Salcombe.
Robert continued ahead of her, the outline of his strong back showing through his T-shirt. She followed him on Lighthouse. At Marine, her walk, he stopped. She did, too, and he pointed her down the walk in the right direction, waving goodbye. Then he took off again. She knew she should go straight home, but she wasn’t ready. Where was he going? She waited a few seconds and then followed him past Broadway, and continued toward Neptune. She passed the Mulders’ house and, closely after, the Brauns’. She’d been on a few group texts congratulating Vicky and Janet on their win, including some snide remarks about Jen’s terrible line calls. Rachelalmostwished she hadn’t skipped the finals. Almost. Because she knew seeingJen and Lauren lose would have been sweet. She wondered how Vicky and Janet were celebrating their victory.
