Page 52 of Bad Summer People
Her phone buzzed. Maybe Lauren had written her back. Sam’s name popped up. Rachel sucked in her breath and opened the message.
Hey, I’m on my way. We need to talk.
She got up in a panic, limping to the bathroom to check her makeup. She quickly applied blush, curled her eyelashes, and swiped a gloss over her lips. She looked old. There were lines on her forehead and dark circles under her eyes.
She sat back down on her couch and tried to remain calm. What did Sam want? He didn’t know she’d seen him that night. Maybe he just missed her? Maybe he wanted to thank her for telling him the truth about Jen?
A few minutes passed, and Sam knocked lightly, letting himself in. He looked tired, more ragged than normal, in worn jeans and a light blue button-down. His glasses were perched on his nose and his deep tan looked painted on. Even with all the weirdness this summer—how uncharacteristically mean he’d been, the threats—she was still in love with him. How pathetic was that?
He sat down next to her. His Salcombe scent, a mix of cologne and bug spray, wafted over.
“How are you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.
“I’m fine. Nothing new to report. I went to the Labor Day show earlier. The kids were all so cute,” she said. There was an awkward silence. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure,” he said. Halfway through getting up, Rachel realized that Sam would notice her limp. He noticed everything. It took all her power to walk normally to the kitchen—she poured him a large vodka soda and refilled her glass of cabernet. She made it back, gritting her teeth, settled into the couch, and took a large sip. Her ankle was throbbing from the weight she’d put on it. Sam wasn’t talking. She couldn’t take this.
“What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“I’ve come because I missed you, Rachel. You’ve been my friend for a long time, and I feel like I can trust you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Even though you totally fucked me over this summer.”
Rachel looked into her glass, avoiding his gaze.
“You knew about Jason—Jason!—and you kept it from me to play some little game for my attention. It’s really kind of sick when you think about it.”
“I just didn’t know what to do,” said Rachel. “I did eventually tell you.”
“Yeah, as revenge for some stupid tennis match. Well done, very mature. As always.”
Tears filled her eyes, making it hard to see. Did he come here to torture her?
“It seems like it’s all fine,” spat Rachel at last. “I saw you two tonight holding hands. And Lauren and Jason looked happy, too. So, it worked out for everyone but me. As usual, as you would say.”
“Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” said Sam. “You’re a shit stirrer from way back. You’ve always been like this.”
Rachel felt shaky. “All right, then. Either tell me why you’re here, or get the fuck out of my house.”
Sam’s face softened. He resembled the old Sam. The good Sam.
“First, I wanted to tell you that I’m going back to work. The woman’s story was bullshit—she’d been pressured to lie about it by my managing partner, who was behind the whole thing. Starting in September, everything will be normal for me. You were the only person I could speak to about the situation this summer, and I appreciate that.” Sam took her hand and gave it a light pat. “I guess you can’t always believe women. Or men.” He laughed softly.
“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
“One more thing: you speak to everyone in this town, and I wanted to know if you’d heard anything about Susan. Does anyone have any idea how she died?”
“Why do you care?” she asked. She knew why he cared.
He moved his body closer on the couch, still holding her hand. Rachel wasn’t sure what to reveal. Should she tell him she’d seen him there? Should she tell him about Robert?
On impulse, she stood, pulling him up alongside her, and led him into her bedroom. The last time they’d been there, Susan Steinhagen had walked in on them. Now Susan was dead. Rachel sat down on the bed, and Sam sat next to her. He reached over and pulled her shirt over her head, pushing her back so just her legs were dangling off the side. Then he knelt over her, his glasses falling off as he did, and sucked her nipples until she came, like he used to do when they were young. He undressed himself as she lay there, writhing, and pulled off her Gap jeans. Then he lifted her up and turned her over, fucking her from behind, lightly slapping her bottom, grunting. He collapsed on top of her after he finished.
The weight of his body nearly made Rachel cry from joy; there was no more pleasurable sensation on earth. She allowed him to crush her with his chest and legs, his face buried in her hair. They didn’t move for a few minutes.
Sam finally rolled off her, settling in next to her side. He looked the same as when they were teens, sleeping together in his parents’ bedroom, Jason down the hall.
