Page 10 of Bad Summer People
They were in the bedroom of their apartment on Park Avenue. She’d just gotten her hair cut and colored, and the bob framed her face nicely. Jason had to admit she was aging very well; she was even more gorgeous now than when she was twenty-eight. He suspected it had to do with those mysterious charges he saw on their credit card statement to various Upper East Side dermatologists and plastic surgeons.
“Lauren, I’m the boss. I can’t just up and leave.” He sighed.
They’d been around and around this topic, always landing in the same place: no.
“We can still go to Fire Island in the summers, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, sitting down in a huff on one of their yellow velvet lounge chairs from ABC Carpet & Home.
Jason just shook his head.
“What is up with you lately?” Lauren said. She squinted at him. “You’re even more absent than usual, if that’s possible. I’m not an idiot, Jason.”
He could tell she was starting to get riled up, and wanted to deflate her before it became a huge thing.
“Nothing is going on! I’m just working a ton, you know that. Thingswill get better in the summer. I just need to get through these next couple of months.”
And now here they all were. They’d arrived at their house that day, a whirlwind of unpacking and settling in and organizing, mostly handled by Lauren and their nanny, Silvia. Jason knew that Jen and Sam had gotten there the day before; he and Jen hadn’t seen each other in nearly two weeks. There had been too much hoopla around the kids ending school and everyone getting packed and ready to figure out how to meet. Jason was desperate to see her.
They communicated with each other over Signal, an encrypted messaging app. Texts disappeared within minutes of reading them, never to be seen again. The joke about Signal was that it was the app for people having affairs and, well, Jason supposed that was true. He checked the app at least once every couple of minutes, a thrill running through him every time he saw Jen’s name appear in black letters.
He’d chatted with her on Signal earlier that day, while Lauren was busy banging around their kitchen, putting the imported Trader Joe’s snacks in their correct cabinets. Jason went up to their roof deck, which overlooked the ocean; the views impressed him anew. He couldn’t believe this place was his. The beach was nearly empty, save a few young couples with little kids. It was too early in the season for the crowds. Jason opened Signal on his phone.
Jen Weinstein: I miss you. How was the trip?
Jason felt a buzz.
Jason Parker: Fine, whatever. I had to sit with Brian on the boat. He never shuts the fuck up. But we made it. When can I see you?
Jen Weinstein: Are you going to Rachel’s tonight? I assume she invited you guys.
Jason Parker: Yes, we’ll be there. But how will I keep my hands off you?
Jen Weinstein: You’ll just have to control yourself. You’re good at control.
It was true. Jason was moody, sure, and he’d have months during which he felt angry at, well, everything. But he didn’t lose his temper. It was one of the things that annoyed Lauren the most—that fact that he met her outbursts with an eerie calm.
That night, when he and Lauren arrived at Rachel’s, he saw Jen standing at the bar. She was wearing a white shirtdress with a gold chain around her delicate neck. Her hair was glossy, her lipstick was red, and Jason wanted to consume her right there. He felt an invisible tug toward her and made his way over, giving Rachel a quick peck on the cheek hello as he did.
This wasn’t the first time they’d been together in public—there had been a few group dinners in the city, and Jason and Lauren and their kids had gone to Jen and Sam’s house in Scarsdale for two birthday parties. But there was something about being back in Salcombe together, back where they’d first slept together, where they fell back into it last year, that made Jason antsy about the whole thing. As if there was no way they could get through this summer without getting caught. How was it supposed to work? They’d been avoiding that question for months. Truly, they’d been avoiding a lot of questions.
“Hi, Jen. How are you?” Jason said to her, a small smile on her lips. Before she could respond, Sam came over and gave Jason a big bear hug. Jason stood there limply as Sam crushed him with his arms. This was their shtick.
“Here we are again,” said Sam warmly, placing a watermelon margarita into Jason’s hand. “You get the house unpacked?”
“Yeah, mostly,” said Jason. “Lauren’s the one doing everything. I’m just standing around and getting in her way.”
“Story of my life,” said Sam, putting his hand on Jen’s arm. She batted him away playfully. Jason’s stomach lurched seeing them so comfortable and close. If you didn’t know what was going on—and Jason was almost 100 percent sure no one did, including Sam—you’d think Sam and Jen were a happy couple.
Lauren slid up to them. She was wearing a green silk camisole that made her eyes shine, and she’d done her date-night makeup. Why was she so dressed up? Jason wondered.
“Hi, guys. Happy summer,” said Lauren, clinking everyone’s glass with her own.
“I heard the new tennis pro is great,” said Jen. “I’ve been playing a lot this year, though I’m sure I’m still way worse than you,” she said to Lauren.
“Maybe this is the year we actually do a mixed doubles game,” said Sam.
Jason thought that was a terrible idea.
The party continued like that, everyone settling into their usual summer selves. Jason had conversations with the other guests, but he was talking just to talk; he didn’t really know what he was saying. He was only focused on Jen. Where she was in the room, who she was speaking with. He wanted to somehow connect with her, but he didn’t know how.
