Page 43 of Catch a Kiwi
“It’s a university town,” Summer said. “Rent’s expensive and places are hard to find, especially cheap places. And I need to keep paying Roman back for the truck. And I can’t—” She stopped.
“What?” Delilah asked.
“I’m going to have trouble renting a place,” Summer said, keeping her voice level. “I went bankrupt, and they check. Maybe they won’t check UK records, but I don’t want to find out.”
“Too bad wherever Roman livestheredidn’t flood, then,” Delilah said. “Speaking in a non-setting-up way.”
“Roman is not our provider,” Summer said, a tinge of sharpness in her tone. “Or our fallback plan.”
“Allright,”Delilah said. “Keep your shirt on. Whoops, you’re not wearing a shirt. Isn’t it a little provocative, sitting out here in your robe, if you’re not trying to get him to pony up another couple of weeks here? Isn’t he going to get a mixed message?”
Yes,I thought. “No,” was what I actually said. “She’s fully covered, and I already got her message.”
“You’re probably acting like this because you’re not meeting anybody living up here,” Summer said to Delilah. “Sorry it’s boring, but it’s for two weeks. Less than two weeks. We only have about three days’ worth of work left here.”
“Flirting skills getting rusty, eh,” I said.
“My flirting skills are excellent,” Delilah said. “Though I prefer to think of it as character study. Men are easy, is what I’ve studied so far. It’s not like I’m sleeping around, either, or whatever Summer thinks will lead to my life turning out like hers, which is basically, ‘Do everything right for your entirelife and keep your nose to the grindstone like a Boomer until you marry the filthy-rich guy who takes you away from all this, which will turn out to be the Biggest Mistake Of Your Life,’ so the lesson is … what? Stay home with my fourteen cats? Never take a risk again? You know what grindstones do? They wear you down. And hello?I’mnot gorgeous, and I’m not an insane rule-follower, either. I’m sure not all gracious and charming like Summer. Nobody’s ever askedmeto wear an evening gown and accompany them to the baccarat tables of Monte Carlo, and they’re never going to. I think I’m safe.”
I said, “So a dodgy guy without money is less risky than a dodgy guy with money? First time I’ve heard that.”
I wasn’t sure which of them I’d asked it of, but Summer answered. “He can be, because you’re less careful. Wish fulfillment is a dangerous thing. And I’m sure you’ll agree I’m not all that gracious and charming anymore.”
Delilah sighed. “It’s like Valley of the Overcautious Forty-Year-Olds up here. Maybe I don’t want to stay in Roman’s house anyway, despite the tent alternative. Swimming in your pool and using one of your many steam showers isn’t really worth it, because—wait! You also have to clean all of those showers! Waitressing is better than brushing down the sides of the pool for ages, not to mention scrubbing the showersandall the ceilings with mold remover—you’re probably not doing my reproductive potential any favors with that stuff—with the highlight of my day being driving all the way to Dunedin for the riotous pleasure of meeting the guy at the carpet cleaner’s. He has almost no teeth, and he’s about seventy-two years old. That’s my social life, the old guy with no teeth. Does New Zealand not have dentists, or what? I thought it was all single-payer medicine here, consumer nirvana. Apparently not dentally. Good thing I have straight teeth. Well, straight enough. My canines cross over my other teeth a little, and whitening strips make my teeth hurt.Another death knell for my gold-digger career. Inadequate dental fabulousness.”
Summer said, “Good thing you’re going to college, then. And scrubbing down the pool walls won’t kill you. It was one time, because of the storm and having to empty the pool, but the vacuum is taking care of it now. I’m sorry that I can’t manage the scrubbing with the stitches, but?—”
“Way to make me feel ungrateful,” Delilah said. “I know you’re doing more. I just don’t see why we have to set the land speed record for flood cleaning.”
I said, “You’re welcome not to set that record, and to stay on a week or so longer after you finish the scrubbing and so forth. Summer’s stitches won’t be ready to come out for another week, because I heard the doctor, and your head probably still hurts, Delilah. You surely don’t want to move on before you get those things sorted. There’s that job at the café, too,” I told Summer. “You said you liked it.”
“Which I can do from a tent,” she said, “if I want to. Alfie says I can do laundry in his machine, and one of the servers told me we can take showers at her place. That way, I could workandstay at the beach for Delilah. In our roomy new—well, used—tent.”
“Thought you didn’t take favors from men,” I decided I should point out. “A bit cozy, isn’t it, folding your clothes at Alfie’s place?”
“He’s married,” Summer said. “And not interested. I told you, I’ve lived in this body a long time.” She stood up. “I do need to get to work, though. I’ll get back on schedule here tomorrow. Also, you really don’t have to make pizza for dinner.”
“Oh,” I said, “I think I do. I’ll save you some, unless you’re eating at work.”
“I should,” she said. “It’s free.” Hanging onto the back of her chair with one hand, her body language saying,I’d ratherstay here with you this afternoon, sit by the pool and read a book, make pizza with you later and drink some wine and maybe smile at you over my glass. If relaxing isn’t too decadent. If it won’t throw me off track.
I wanted to say heaps of things. I didn’t want to say them in front of Delilah.
“I need to get ready,” Summer said. “But Roman—” She looked straight at me and spoke for once with no holding back. “Thanks for the beach. I did feel safe with you. Thank you for doing that for me.”
There was something blocking my throat, and a tightening in my chest. All I said, though, was, “No worries.”
Stupidly.
I wasn’t thinking about that now, though, or the futility of this whole mad arrangement in terms of my ever getting what I wanted, which was, obviously, sex. Preferably all kinds of it. Hard and fast or achingly slow and patient—both of those would work for me, working on that body. Workingoutthat body. Seeing her lose that caution, that reserve, and surrender to pleasure.
Surrender to me.
But I wasn’t thinking about that now. I was reading my report in the soft, fading light, my bare legs stuck out in front of me, after a hard swim in the pool and a shower. I was loose. I was relaxed.
I was ready for anything. Or, of course, nothing.
Summer
