Summer After Summer

“Here,” Bunny said, handing me a bottle of Coke. “This’ll make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better.” At least nothing short of a permanent adios, and I wasn’t ready for that. I flopped on the cold linoleum floor. “Why are you so perky?”

Her answering smile was enough to make me want to deck her.

“I didn’t drink that much.”

“Yeah, well.” I was on the verge of coming up with a great answer, really I was, but my brain short-circuited when my tummy did another barrel roll.

“You’d better get well, PDQ. If you back out on going to the party, you’re dead meat,” Bunny threatened.

“Yew!” Why did she have to mention dead meat? Or any kind of meat, for that matter?

It took a six-pack of Cokes and a sleeve of Saltines before I truly thought I could make it through the day. Now I was at Bunny’s house doing what I did best—providing cover for my friend.

“You know your sneaking around is gonna to get us both in trouble,” I griped as Bunny searched the bottom of her closet. “If your parents catch you going out with Charlie when they specifically told you not to, you’ll be grounded for life. And if by some miracle you get out of the house before you’re twenty-one, they’ll never let you see me again.”

Bunny seemed oblivious to my complaints as she continued to look for something. When that girl got focused on a goal, she got focused. And her single-mindedness always seemed to get me in trouble.

“Here it is,” she crowed triumphantly, holding up a Scarlett O’Hara corset, minus the laces.

“What do you mean, here it is?” I was lounging on the bed getting a really bad feeling about this. But I consoled myself with the fact that I was bigger than she was, and I could overpower her if push came to shove.

“I found this in my mother’s closet.” She waved the offending piece of lingerie in my direction. “I know, I know. You don’t wear a bra. But for tonight, you’re gonna be the sex goddess of south Texas. We’re doing a makeover.”

“Like hell,” I snorted. “You’re not about to get me into that thing. It couldn’t be more than a size two and I’m a ten.”

“Size is not a problem. And yes, you are going to wear it. Since we’re leaving from here, you won’t have to sneak past the Baptist brigade.”

She was referring to my parents—pillars of the Baptist church and ardent opponents of anything that smacked of sexy.

“So get this on while I find the dress I have in mind. Just you wait till I get you all dolled up!” She tossed the instrument of torture at me.

Did Bunny really believe I’d strip down and put that thing on? “No way. I’m perfectly happy in my current state.” Unfortunately, my resolve wasn’t nearly as tough as Bunny’s, and eventually I capitulated. Darn it! I needed to work on my backbone.

“Hold your breath. I’ve almost got the hooks done up.” She was pulling and tugging to fasten me into the Merry Widow.

Poor, poor Scarlett. I suspect the infamous Southern belle was a bitch because her corset had restricted the flow of blood to her brain.

“Stay right there while I get this sundress on you,” Bunny instructed, holding up an emerald-green, low-cut dress with spaghetti straps. After she waved the little scrap of material, she turned me away from the mirror.

“I can’t wear your clothes. I’m at least eight inches taller than you are, and I’m at least twenty pounds heavier.”

Now that was something I hated to admit.

“Exactly,” Bunny said smugly as she yanked the dress over my head and somehow managed to get it zipped. She put her hands on her hips and circled me.

“Don’t you dare look in the mirror,” she admonished as she grabbed the stool from her tulle-covered vanity. “Sit there.” She pointed at the bench. “I’m going to do your hair and makeup.”

After she finished working her magic, she stepped back to admire her creation. At best, I usually gave the makeup process a lick and a promise. A little powder, a swipe of mascara and a dab of lipstick, and I called it good. Not tonight.

I could subdue her, I thought as I sat in a fragrant cloud of Aqua Net and Estée Lauder awaiting the verdict. Bunny walked around me humming some inane tune.

“You are gorgeous! Absolutely fan-tab-u-lous. I’ve outdone myself this time.” She broke into an immense smile and turned me around to check my appearance in her cheval mirror.

“Holy cow! I’ve got boobs.” Did I ever! They were falling out of the top of the dress for God and everyone to see. As short as the skirt was, it looked like my legs went on forever.

The problem was that Bunny’s little dress barely covered the essentials. I didn’t know whether to pull it up or pull it down. As for the rest of it, Bunny was right. I was gorgeous. Could I possibly be a swan?

“Your parents would have a cow if they could see you. You are one bitchin’ chick!” Bunny exclaimed.

She was right. Mama and Daddy would stroke out if they set eyes on me. I loved them dearly, really I did, but being a good girl was tiresome sometimes. I sympathized wholeheartedly with all the preachers’ kids I knew. Living in a fishbowl was hell.

“It shouldn’t take long for your transformation to hit the grapevine.” Bunny giggled, then went into her Captain Bligh impersonation. “Don’t touch a hair on your head. I’ll get dressed and we’ll get rolling.”

When Bunny was right, she was right. Being a foxy mama was quite a high. What was Charlie going to say? And why did I care? Could it be because I was obsessed with someone I couldn’t have?

Conversation ceased when we walked into the party. Guys I’d known since kindergarten stared at me, their mouths hanging open. Pretty cool, huh?

I was reveling in my new state of glamour when Charlie showed up.

“Hey, Sunshine. You’re looking mighty good,” he said, putting his arm around Bunny’s waist. It wasn’t a bad reaction, but it wasn’t especially good, either. What did I think he was going to do, ditch Bunny and declare his undying love for me?

Get real.

I’d driven to the party with Bunny, so I hoped I wouldn’t have to hitch a ride home. That was getting old. And seeing her with Charlie was even more depressing.

“Jazzy, I’m glad you came. I’ve been waiting for you.” Petey grabbed my hand and pulled me across the room. He was the only guy who was immune to my new attractions. The whole sexy thing was fun, but normalcy was good, too.

“I’ve got someone I want you to meet. My cousin is here from Dallas. I told you about him, remember?” Petey kept tugging on my hand. I could have easily pulled him to a halt, but everyone was staring. So I went into docile mode and followed him.

Petey halted in front of the most gorgeous guy I’d ever clapped eyes on. This person was related to Petey— band-geek Petey?

The hunk had dark hair and ice-blue eyes. Oh, wow, was that a deadly combo.

“Jazzy, this is my cousin Clint Whitworth. Clint’s going to be a sophomore at Southern Methodist.”

Only Petey would call SMU Southern Methodist.

“Clint, this is my friend Jazzy.” Petey was grinning as if he’d just won a jackpot. “Her name is really Jasmine but we all call her Jazzy,” he explained, and continued to stare at us as if he was expecting something exciting to happen.

“Miss Jasmine, you are beautiful,” the Adonis said, taking my hand and kissing my palm.

I was almost afraid I’d faint dead away. I didn’t know whether the dizziness came from lust or the waist-cincher that was restricting my blood flow.

“Let’s find a quiet place to get to know each other.” Clint guided me through the crowd to the pool, where we sat in lounge chairs and talked. We interrupted our conversation only to raid the buffet and dangle our feet in the water. It seemed we had everything in common. We enjoyed the same music, books, school subjects, and we even saw eye to eye on politics.

Clint told me he’d just finished his freshman year and that he planned to go to law school. When I explained I wanted to be an architect, he didn’t laugh. I even confided that I’d been drawing houses since I was in elementary school. Very few people were privy to the information that I got off on the idea of designing homes.

Although it was the 1970s, male chauvinism was alive and well in Meadow Lake, and women were not encouraged to step outside the few professions deemed acceptable. Even the school counselors said I should reconsider my choice. What did they know?

Clint, however, said he thought it was a great idea. And that alone sent him to the top of my favorite-people list.

This newfound comradeship was very cool. It felt like I’d known him forever. Petey grinned like a kid in a candy store every time he looked at us. Discretion wasn’t exactly his middle name.

“Cousin Petey is a matchmaker,” Clint said. “He’s been trying to introduce us for over a year. He claims we’re made for each other.”

“Really?” Sounds lame, I know, but what else could I say to his comment?

“Yeah, imagine that.”

What did that mean?

I glanced around and didn’t see either Charlie or Bunny. Darn it! “This has been great, it really has, but it looks like Bunny went off with Charlie so I need to hit up someone for a ride home.” I wasn’t hinting for him to take me home, honestly I wasn’t. Uh-uh.

“I’ll take you whenever you’re ready to go.”

I hated to admit my social shortcomings to a college guy, especially one with Paul Newman eyes. “Midnight is my curfew,” I finally admitted, although it took a few false starts for me to get it out.

“Oh.” Although he looked a bit nonplussed, he recovered quickly. “I’ll tell Petey we’re going.”

And that’s how we ended up parked out by the river in his new Datsun 240Z.

“Petey showed me this place. I thought since we had half an hour to kill, we could talk.”

If that was his euphemism for necking, it seemed like a great idea to me. I couldn’t think of anything I’d like better than to get into a good lip-lock with him. Obviously Charlie would be my first preference, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.

“Sure,” I said.

So there we were, sitting in the moonlight with the cicadas creating their own brand of soft music. It was romance at its best—if you discounted the damned stick shift between us. I leaned my head back against the soft leather seat and fantasized about what would happen next.

Guess what? Nothing happened, because Clint kept yakking on and on about freshman English.

Freshmen English! I was about to melt into a puddle of hormonal angst and he was analyzing Hemingway?

Enough was enough. If he wasn’t going to make the first move I’d have to take matters into my own hands.

Ignoring everything ladylike that Mama had tried to drill into my head, I launched myself at him.

It took about half a second to realize I’d made a terrible mistake.

As a virgin I wasn’t familiar with erotic sounds; however, even I knew that a yelp wasn’t a harbinger of lust.

After he disentangled our body parts, he planted a kiss on my forehead. Nope, that definitely wasn’t lust.

“Um, Jaz, um, there’s something I need to tell you.”

If it was possible to die from embarrassment, I was about to expire on the spot. By that time I had managed to wiggle back into my seat. Something was drastically wrong.

“What?”

He sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Oh, my God, he thought I was too skinny, or maybe he thought I was butt-ugly. Or worse, I had a stray piece of spinach in my teeth.

“Told me what?” I managed to squeak.

“I, uh…” He paused. “Crap, this is hard.”

This time I didn’t interrupt him.

“I have a good friend who’s a guy.”

So what? “Some of my best friends are guys.”

He stared at me in amazement and then lapsed into a heartfelt chuckle. “Sometimes I forget about life in a small town.” He gave me one of those looks that said hey, dummy, I’m saying something important here. “He’s a really good friend.”

Oh. My. God! If they gave out stupidity awards I’d have a blue ribbon. “You mean you’re…” Somehow I couldn’t finish the sentence, especially considering the fact that I’d almost ravished him.

“Yeah, I am.” He leaned over the console and looked me in the eye. “I’ve really enjoyed being with you tonight. I hope we can be friends.”

“Sure, I’d love to be your friend.” He was smart, he was funny, he was a great conversationalist—and unfortunately, this major dreamboat wasn’t interested in girls.

If that didn’t beat all!

Chapter 4

“Jazzy, is he as scrumptious as I heard?” Misty plopped down on the dock where I was sunbathing. “Can you believe that nerdy Petey has a cousin who looks like a movie star?”

She scooted to the edge of the dock and put her feet in the water. “And I was having dinner with my parents! Are you going to see him again and does he have any friends?”

Oh, yeah, he had friends. But I wasn’t planning to share that even with my good friend. Whether he told anyone or not was his business.

I glanced up from painting my toenails and gave a heartfelt sigh. “He was, uh—he was nice.” I shook my head, pondering the abominable luck I had with boys. That led me straight back to Charlie and my unrequited love. I hated that term. It sounded like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

Oh, Mr. Darcy, my love for you is unrequited.

“So, are you going to see him again? Is he coming back anytime soon?”

“Get a grip, Misty,” I snapped. Uh-oh, losing my cool was a big mistake, especially with our budding attorney. I was never grumpy, not even when it was that time of the month. Now Misty would definitely know something was up.

“What?” She had that crafty look I hated so much.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you nothin’ me, girlie. You’re keeping a secret and I want to know what it is.”

“Hey, y’all.” Those dulcet tones came from Bunny.

I was saved by my bleached-blond friend. She strutted down to the dock in the shortest, tightest pair of cutoffs I’d ever seen. “Aren’t those uncomfortable?” I had to ask.

“Nope.” She slipped her sandals off and sat down on the dock. “Let’s go riding.”

Cruising was our favorite hobby. Of course, in Meadow Lake, cruising was one of the few things a kid could do for entertainment.

“Sounds good to me,” Misty said. “I don’t have to be home for dinner until seven.”

“And I don’t have to go to work until tomorrow.” In my summer gig as a lifeguard, I worked a couple of days a week. It was a hard job—yeah, right—but someone had to do it.

“Where’s Mary Alice?” Bunny asked.

“Her dad’s holding a revival meeting. She told me they’re going down to the river to do some baptizing,” Misty answered.

Bunny laughed. “I guess riding around with us is out, huh?”

“Yep.” Mary Alice missed quite a few things the rest of us called fun.

Even though it was hotter than hell, we had the convertible top down. We were willing to sacrifice anything in the name of being “cool,” and believe it or not, that included scorched thighs.

We circled the Pink Pig several times. At three o’clock in the afternoon the pickings were slim.

“I have an idea,” Bunny said.

It wasn’t so much what she said as how she said it. The way my skin prickled, I knew we were heading for a mess of trouble. But before my good sense could issue a stern warning, Misty piped up.

“What?” she asked.

Bunny wore her “we’re gonna be oh, so grounded if anyone catches us” grin.

“We’re going skinny-dipping in the park.”

“No!” I shouted, almost causing her to run into a stop sign.

“Why not?” Bunny put on her affronted act.

“Because my daddy’s the police chief and if we get caught I’ll be a hundred and ten years old before I’m allowed to leave the house again.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have everything under control.” She turned the car toward the park.

Misty didn’t say a word. She was probably wondering whether she could survive jumping from a moving vehicle, because if that girl got nabbed with her drawers down in a public place, her parents would hustle her off to a boarding school that would make Oliver Twist’s look plush.

Our friend batted away our objections as if they were pesky gnats. So off to the river we went, the three of us like lemmings to the sea.

The park had a long winding roadway between the golf course and the water. River Road was popular with the high-school crowd for a couple of reasons—most of which made my daddy cranky. The Indy 500 wannabes used it to hone their racing skills, and the “parkers” favored the secluded areas to do whatever it was lovers did, not that I was an expert on that, being a virgin and all.

For this particular exploit we had to have privacy. My bare butt was not appropriate viewing material.

Bunny pulled into the small lot adjacent to a picnic area at the end of the drive. At that time of day, in that heat, the chances of running into a family were pretty slight. Anyone with a lick of sense was inside enjoying the air-conditioning.

“You guys coming? You’ll love it.”

Bunny was out of the car and halfway down the hill before Misty and I could decide what to do. Darn it, she started flapping her arms up and down making clucking noises. Who could ignore a challenge like that?

“I hate being manipulated,” I muttered. And that’s what my friend was doing, in spades.

“Me, too,” Misty admitted. “But I can’t seem to resist.”

“Yeah,” I said as I unfolded my long legs from the backseat of the very small car. Please God, don’t let one of Daddy’s patrolmen do the park loop and check on Bunny’s car.

Okay, Bunny was right. Shucking your clothes and skinny-dipping was decadence at its best. It was a cross between being naughty and feeling liberated.

“This is nice. But I’m still worried about snakes,” I said as I rolled over to float on my back. The only way a cottonmouth water moccasin could bite you was to latch on to a small appendage, and I had two small appendages that I did not want bitten, and we weren’t talking about fingers.

I’d always thought floating was as close as you could get to being back in the womb. It was very quiet and it gave you a serene sense of weightlessness.

“Who’s that?” Misty hissed.

I felt my tranquility take a nosedive. I jackknifed in the water just in time to see my so-called friends swimming as fast as they could toward the other side of the river.

“Hey, you!” It was a male voice. An irritated male voice.

Oh, great! It was none other than Eddie Troyer, Daddy’s newest patrolman.

Fortunately, I was far enough out in the water that he probably didn’t recognize me. Unfortunately, he was standing next to our pile of clothes.

Darn it all!

When I trained as a lifeguard I did a lot of underwater swimming. With Patrolman Troyer hot on my tail, I was certainly glad I’d learned how to hold my breath for an extended period of time.

“What are we going to do?” Bunny asked.

The three of us were crouching in the bushes as we watched the cop prowl up and down the opposite bank.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “He probably thinks we’ve drowned and he’s gonna call my daddy. They’ll bring a boat out and drag the river. We have to let them know we’re not dead.”

“No,” Misty whined.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bunny seemed to be the only one whose brain was still working.

“He has to go back to his car to report this, right?”

“Yeah.” I could almost see where she was going with this.

“When he climbs back up the hill, we race across, grab our clothes and hide in the bushes downstream.”

“That might work.” And if it didn’t, the rookie was going to get an up-close and personal preview of my ass. But as repugnant as that seemed, I didn’t have a better idea.

“I’m in.”

“Me, too,” Misty reluctantly agreed.

She didn’t sound all that sure, but neither was I, so we were even.

The minute Eddie turned his back and trudged up the hill, we were in the water swimming like we’d jumped into a pool of piranhas.

Bunny was the first out of the water, first to grab her shorts and first to disappear into the bushes. I was right behind her. Panic and adrenaline made me very fast.

“What are we going to do about your car?” The vehicle question was something that had occurred to me the minute my brain started working. How could we explain the car? We certainly couldn’t drive past Patrolman Troyer, waving blithely on our way out.

We’d found sanctuary behind some wild grapevines. I had my underwear on, Bunny was already in her shorts and halter top, and all Misty could manage to do was sit there and moan.

“Not to worry. I have an idea,” Bunny announced—not for the first time.

It was a good thing she did; I was considering turning myself in and facing the consequences.

“You guys stay here while I sneak over to the parking lot,” Bunny instructed. “I’ll take that little cart path behind the eighteenth hole. As soon as he wanders off, I’ll hop in the car and sneak away. Then he won’t see me leave—and if he does, at least you guys won’t get caught.”

“So what do we do?” Misty asked.

“You guys walk back to the clubhouse and call someone dependable to come and get you. If anyone asks why my car was at the park, I’ll play dumb.”

“That might work.” It sounded half-baked to me but at least it was a plan. And that surpassed anything I could suggest.

“It’ll work. We just have to stick together. Skinny-dipping, are you kidding? We’re nice girls. That’s our story. Deal?” Bunny put out her hand.

“Deal.” I slapped my palm on top of hers. This was one of the benefits of sisterhood. All for one, and one for all.

“Do you think Bunny got away?” Misty whispered as we approached the clubhouse.

I’d lost my shoes somewhere, and even worse, Misty’s bra had vanished. Add that to the fact her T-shirt was wet, and we had a big problem.

“Before we go inside you need to pull your shirt out and fan yourself. Maybe it’ll dry a little.”

“Aargh!” Misty apparently hadn’t noticed the way the cotton was molded to her chest. “I can’t go in there, not like this.” She made wild waving motions with her hands.

“I agree. You hunker down over there in the lawn chair. I’ll see if they’ll let me use their phone.”

“Who are you going to call?”

That didn’t take much thought. I planned to call my best buddy. “Charlie will get us. He’s the only person I really trust.”

Wasn’t that annoying? The one person I felt I could turn to in a crisis was my good friend’s boyfriend.

“What have you girls gotten yourselves into now?” Charlie barely managed to control his chuckles when he asked the question.

All I’d had to tell him was that we needed a ride and he was on his way to retrieve us. No questions, no comments, just a “hang on, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Thank goodness!

Misty’s wild red curls had dried into a mess that resembled a Bozo the Clown wig, and heaven knows what I looked like. The term “raccoon eyes” came to mind.

“Is this gonna burn up the grapevine?” he asked.

Misty and I answered simultaneously. Her answer was an emphatic no. I was a bit more circumspect with my “I hope not. God, I hope not.”

Our answers brought another round of laughter from our chauffeur.

“Here we are.” He pulled up behind Misty’s house. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Jaz, I’ll call you. Thanks, Charlie,” she said before she dashed toward her back door.

Charlie turned to me, a serious expression on his face. “Is your daddy gonna meet us with one of those bad-cop looks?”

“Not if we’re lucky,” I said with fervor.

“Lord, you’re enough to give a guy gray hair.” He punctuated his assertion by rubbing the top of my head.

“Do you remember the time in the fourth grade when Hooter Thompson knocked me off the jungle gym and you gave him a black eye?” I’d wanted to ask that question for years. It was the defining moment, the moment I knew for certain that I was head over heels in love with Charlie, and my feelings hadn’t changed much in the intervening time.