Chapter Fourteen
Jessie and Katie rapped on Addison’s back door around eight o’clock, Saturday night, looking for ice.
“Hey, girl!” they said, upon entering. “Wanna pregame with us?”
They couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than Addison, but it somehow seemed much more. She contemplated sinking to their level, or rising to it, depending on what she wanted out of the evening. When Jessie whipped out a lime from her pocket, and Katie a bottle of Casamigos from behind her back, she gave in. She had already tried meditating away her angst. Maybe drinking it away would work better.
Following the cocktails, they invited Addison to party with them in town. She weighed the invitation against the draw of a particularly stubborn avocado that had just ripened and would surely be inedible by tomorrow. Both the offer and the avocado went equally well with the tequila. She couldn’t quite place when she began prioritizing what she would feel like the next day over the endless possibilities of a random night out—but the shift had most definitely occurred.
Summer of Addison!she reminded herself. Her life had been a bit lacking in the fun department lately, and these two were definitely on the prowl for it. Even if their idea of a celebrity crush seemed to be a horny author.
“I’m in,” she said, half meaning it.
“Yaaaay!” they said in unison, giving Addison pause. They asked her to take them to the hottest places, and she admitted she did not know where those were. It was a good thing she was venturing out before her friends arrived. They would expect her to know where to go too.
The three women dropped in on a few bars, one with a heavy metal band playing and another that advertised a nightly foam party at midnight. Addison wasn’t sure what a foam party was and had no desire to find out. They settled on a place called the Salty Pelican, which seemed to have a rowdy but not too crazy crowd. The Pelican seemed fun, with a bunch of people in the back gathered around the dartboard.
“This looks like the place in On Fire Island, doesn’t it?” Jessie said, before turning to Addison for confirmation. Her face was blank.
“I don’t understand how you haven’t read it.”
“She told us—she’s new here,” Katie said in her defense, before turning to Addison with an explanation. “On Fire Island is kind of like a memoir. It’s told by the author’s dead wife over one summer here. The author is a widower—he really lost his wife. That part’s true.”
“That’s so sad, poor thing,” Addison said.
“You should put the other one aside and start it tomorrow. You won’t believe it,” Jessie added.
Addison shook her head in agreement. Katie ordered them three vodka sodas with lime, and loaded nachos, while Jessie headed for the bathroom. She returned looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“What did you do?” Katie asked.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Jessie said, smirking.
With that, Addison saw her neighbor walking toward them.
“Ugh. Hide me,” she warned her new “friends.” “My neighbor Ben is coming over here. He’s awful. Total tool,” she added, in what she thought was their language.
Katie looked that way and covered her face with her hands.
“Oh my God, Jessie, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. You haven’t stopped saying what you would do if you ever got ahold of Benjamin Morse in person. Well, here he comes. I sent him a drink—from you!”
Katie turned ten shades of crimson, bent her head under the table, and ran a wand of gloss over her lips. Addison’s lips, on the other hand, remained agape.
“I thought that guy’s name was Ben Silver? Is Benjamin Morse a pen name?”
“I don’t think so—but you can ask,” Jessie suggested.
A million contradictory emotions careened through her brain like a game of emotional pinball.
Anger, betrayal, sympathy, empathy, confusion, and embarrassment.
Embarrassment won. She was mortified by just about everything she remembered saying to this poor widowed guy on the beach: I’m surprised the women aren’t flocking to you…. I would think you would have landed a keeper by now. That thought was replaced by an image of Ben, not Shep, as she had previously imagined, blocking the bulldozer from destroying her street like some kind of lovelorn tree hugger from Greenpeace.
Ben was Benjamin Morse. The banter about the book now made sense too. Had she insulted his writing as well?
Ben Morse. Flirt. Neighbor. Author. Widower.
Kill me, she thought as she watched her neighbor walk their way.
Ben Morse seemed like he couldn’t care less about any of their unfortunate interactions. He smiled, motioned for her to shove over, and slid beside her in the tight booth as if they were actual friends. She could feel his leg grazing hers and practically hugged the wall to avoid it.
“I thought your last name was Silver,” she quietly blurted, adding, “Your garbage cans say Silver!”
“So do my beach chairs. If it ain’t broke!”
Addison looked confused. He clarified, “I bought my house from Shep Silver a dozen years ago—along with those cans. They’re sturdy and snap closed. You should invest in a couple.”
“First time on Fire Island?” he asked her two houseguests, clearly eager to steer away from the garbage can incident.
“It is!” Katie gushed. “We took a quarter share in Westhampton this summer, but have never been out here, so thought we would compare the two.”
“Here summer is a noun. Out there it’s a verb.”
Addison laughed at Ben’s highbrow joke, but her houseguests looked confused by it.
“We spend the summer on Fire Island,” he explained. “They summer in the Hamptons.”
Jessie and Katie laughed now too. It was just the kind of witty observation that made him a bestselling author.
Katie brazenly put her hands on top of Ben’s and got right down to business. “I’m so sorry about your wife.” She may have had a tear in her eye. He pressed his lips together as if holding back laughter at her dramatics, which made Addison do the same.
The drinks showed up, and Katie released her embrace to make room for them.
“I’ve read every one of your books and, well, let’s just say, I may be your biggest fan,” she added.
“I don’t know about that. There is a woman in Wichita who named her baby after me, and it’s a girl. Benjamina Morse McClusky.” Katie and Jessie both winced while Addison raised a glass.
“To Benjamina!”
Only Ben laughed and downed his drink. Addison kept up. Why, she didn’t know.
Things turned lighter after that. Katie and Jessie asked Ben a million questions, like they were interviewing him at a book talk at the Strand. It was surprisingly illuminating, though nothing Addison couldn’t google; it took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to pull her phone from her pocket right then and there to fact-check, although the answer to her most burning question—Why didn’t you tell me who you were?—would not be found on the internet. Still, she learned plenty from the girls’ inquisition. Benign things like his writing routine, sportswriting versus novel writing (apparently, he had his own column in Sports Illustrated), and a long list of questions regarding his public statement that he would never write another novel. They were fangirling all over him, and he was eating it up. Is this how he got women? Playing off their sympathy for his losing his wife and then hoping he could live up to the sex scenes in his novels? She remembered their earlier conversation on the beach.
Especially page one thirty-seven!Ugh.
She was back to disliking him again. His witty Hamptons–Fire Island comparison had momentarily tipped the scales in his favor. She loved a guy who could make her laugh—though she couldn’t remember the last time she had encountered one.
“Did you ever see Josie again?” Jessie asked, causing Katie to scoot in real close so as not to miss a word. She turned her head back to Addison, for a quick recap.
“Josie is a woman he met the summer after his wife died who made him feel like he may be able to love again.”
Addison also focused on Ben for answers, and he addressed her, as opposed to the Spice Girls. It was odd, as if he recognized that Addison would be interested in his explanation for more than folly. Until she realized he was right—she was interested in his explanation for more than folly.
“Her name wasn’t really Josie. I changed it, and a bunch of her details, for obvious reasons.”
“That was smart,” Katie said, taking back his attention. “Remember what happened with ‘Hey There Delilah’!”
Addison and Ben locked eyes, and they met on the same wavelength—laughter—a bit more at them than with them. There was no denying that Addison was enjoying their company. Ben seemed to be as well, though she wondered if it was just because his ego was being stroked. When their laughter subsided, he continued.
“We went on a date, but it was way too awkward with all the happily ever after pressure of the book.”
“Makes sense,” Katie commiserated, taking the moment to touch his hand again in sympathy. Though clearly amused, Ben seemed to relish the attention. Addison couldn’t help but worry about her houseguest, who was intent on getting her books signed. Her gut told her Ben wouldn’t take advantage of her, but she didn’t really know him. She thought back to what Shep had said about Ben, that he hadn’t been himself for a while.
Will the real Ben Morse please stand up?
She looked him over while the girls continued fawning. There was no denying her attraction to him. He was handsome in an imperfect sort of way. Definitely strong and fit. And he was tall. Being five nine herself, Addison loved a tall man. His answer about “Josie” didn’t address whether he felt able to love again. That would be nice to know. She wondered if he even knew himself.
At the end of the night, Ben Morse offered Katie, whose “feet were killing her,” a ride home on the back of his bike, while Jessie and Addison walked. It left Addison concerned and—though she hated to admit it—a tad jealous.
“I hope she’ll be OK,” Addison murmured.
“She’s a big girl—no need to worry about her,” Jessie assured.
Truth was, she was worried. She didn’t want this guy to disappoint her again—well, not this guy, but the “You Again” guy whose eyes she met with again tonight. She didn’t want more proof that that guy was full of shit.