Page 15 of One More Time
Kim clutched her chest with mock sincerity. ‘This is why I love you.’
Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘I love you, too. Now go get dressed. It’s almost nine.’
The fifteen miles of Atlantic coastline from Rehoboth Beach to South Bethany was a veritable hive of eighteen- to twenty-five-year-olds. From June through August, they worked menial jobs in food service to support the perfect summer balance of binge drinking, sleeping with all the wrong people, and not using enough sunscreen. This was carved-in-stone Delaware tradition. As such, Lucy and Kim had dutifully signed on forminimum-wage gigs at the new Grotto Pizza location on the boardwalk and moved into Kim’s dad’s house in Rehoboth.
Lucy and Kim sat on the wooden benches of the Jolly Trolley for the short ride from Rehoboth to Dewey, headed for a party. The party was with all the same high school dipshits they’d been hanging out with forever, but it was at the beach. Therefore, it was infinitely better. Close proximity to the ocean gave almost everything a glimmer of possibility and magic. And, if there wasn’t any magic, at least there would be beer.
Rumbling along in the open-air carriage with the salty sea air ruffling her bangs, Lucy finally felt like summer had arrived. Senior year had been a long slog, each day slower than the one before. And God, every little thing had been so fuckingimportant. Graduation requirements, GPA, ACT, SAT, college applications, the final everthis, the first everthat. With graduation over, and college months away, Lucy finally felt free.
The girls hopped off the trolley in the heart of Dewey Beach and made their way to a wide dead-end street on the bayside. All the houses on the block were the same shade of dingy white and all of them had wraparound porches cluttered with mismatched furniture, damp towels, and drunk people.
Lucy and Kim headed for the house with the most raucous party – the Football House. So named because of the twenty or so former high school football players that passed out there each night. (A couple were probably even on the lease.)
Snoop Dogg’s ‘Gin & Juice’ thumped from somewheredeep inside the building and people spilled out onto the lawn, sipping from red Solo cups between drags of their cigarettes and joints.
‘You think it comes pre-treated with the piss-and-vomit smell, or did they manage it all on their own in the week since graduation?’ Lucy quipped.
‘Oh, I bet it’s all them,’ Kim replied. Then added, ‘Football boys.’ As if that explained everything.
Lucy and Kim walked through the front door and were immediately greeted by a guy named Chris K (as opposed to Chris G and Chris S) from their graduating class. His massive chest strained the bounds of his Jane’s Addiction T-shirt to the point that the three naked ladies on it were cracked and cleaved into about fifty pieces.
‘’Sup ladies,’ he said to Kim’s cleavage.
‘Hey, Chris,’ Lucy replied to his oversized neck.
Chris brandished a Sharpie and jotted their names on two red plastic cups, then handed them over. Kim’s said ‘Kimmy.’ Lucy’s was ‘Rollins.’
Lucy never could get a cute nickname. She’d just have to console herself with the knowledge that her genitalia had earned her free beer. Woohoo! The patriarchy pays its dividends!
‘Keg is in the kitchen,’ Chris called to their backs.
The friends walked through the house, past a group of guys who clearly appreciated Calvin Klein’s work on the tube dress, waved at a couple of classmates, and hung a left at the quarters game.
Standing around the keg in the kitchen were MikePellegrini and two other classmates, best friends that always wore ponytails and whom everyone simply called ‘the Melissas.’ Not ironically, mind you. They were both named Melissa. Talking with them was like trying to converse with aYMarticle. It was all, like, ‘How to Decode Your Boyfriend’s Feelings by the Color of His Boxers’ or ‘101 Unforgettable Curling Iron Tips & Tricks.’
Mike handed one of the girls a cup marked ‘Melissa 2,’ then took Lucy’s cup in his large quarterback’s hand. Mike was tall with a deep suntan and freckles on the bridge of his nose. Everything about him was chiseled – his jaw, his abs, his damn calves. He wore a red sweatshirt that said ‘Rehoboth Beach Patrol’ and Lucy was positive he hadn’t bought it at a souvenir shop.
Kim reached around Mike to hand him her cup, pressing her chest against his back and placing her hand firmly on his shoulder. That got him.
Mike handed Lucy her full cup, then looked to Kim. First her chest, then her lips, finally landing on her eyes.
‘Hi, Mike,’ Kim smoldered.
‘Hi, Kim.’ Those were the words that came out of Mike’s mouth, but buried in the tone were subtitles reading:Fuck, yes. Let’s go.
Kim led Lucy out of the kitchen.
‘You gonna finish that with Mike?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh, we’llfinish,’ Kim replied. ‘He’ll come to me.’
‘I think you mean comeonyou.’ Lucy chuckled.
‘With any luck,’ Kim said with a wink. ‘Let’s go out and have a smoke with the Melissas.’
‘I’ll be there in a minute. I’m going to find the stereo and see if I can fix this … situation,’ Lucy said, waving her hand around in the air above her. ‘This is the third time I’ve heard “Gin & Juice” and we’ve been here for twenty minutes.’
‘Doing the Lord’s work,’ Kim joked.
