Chapter Nineteen
That night, after Pru and Lisa had left for the city, Addison and Kizzy walked over to Shep’s for the barbecue, where Addison was greeted with a hero’s welcome. It was the first time since being fired that she had felt part of a community, and she had to admit she was digging it. She thought again about what keeping the house would look like—maybe turning the art studio into another weekend rental to make it more profitable. But that art studio was her favorite part. It was kind of absurd for her, of course, with no job, no partner, few savings, and no primary residence, to own a beach house. But there was no denying that this place was sticking to her soul.
The barbecue featured all the usual suspects—hamburgers, hot dogs, corn, watermelon salad, and lots of beer. She knew most of the people from the game and was introduced to a bunch of others she had never met before.
She found herself guessing who was who from Ben’s last book. The handsome guy from the market was working the grill—well, not working it literally. He was clearly a guest helping out. The ferry captain popped in, grabbing a burger and a beer. Everyone was giving him the third degree about his daughter, who was spending the summer in the Galápagos—apparently for the second year in a row. Even Addison was interested in her whereabouts after putting it together that she and Matty from the ball game were the characters from the big coming-of-age plot in Ben’s book. She was introduced to Matty’s mom, Renee, who seemed to be currently single, but also seemed to light up when the ferry captain plopped himself down next to her.
Addison made a plate and brought it outside.
“Hey, Slugger,” Ben called out to her. She smiled. She liked the nickname better than Addie—though she was warming to that a little too. He tapped the seat next to him on the oversized sectional on Shep’s back deck. It surprised Addison how chic Shep’s house was. Chic and Shep did not go together.
“This house!” she noted upon sitting.
“I know. Shep’s wife Caroline had beautiful taste.”
Shep belched as he walked by.
“In most things,” Ben added dryly. He was funny when he wanted to be.
“Where are your friends?” he added, looking around.
Addie pointed to Kizzy in the corner, having her ear talked off by one of the ballplayers—Eddie.
“It’s just Kizzy. The others made the five o’clock.”
She was finally getting the insider lingo down.
“I think Eddie has a crush,” Ben observed.
“Everyone has a crush on Kizzy. He won’t get very far, I’m afraid. She’s not ready to date. Just last week, she was a happily married woman. Or at least she thought she was.”
“Ugh. I knew there was something up. I could see it in her eyes.”
Addison was surprised that Ben was so perceptive. Also, she wasn’t surprised.
A lull fell on the conversation, and they both took the opportunity to eat their corn on the cob. A few rows later, Ben broke the silence with, “Good corn.”
Addison smiled in agreement, revealing a kernel wedged between her teeth. The two of them did that dance that people do when trying to home in on the location of a wayward morsel till Ben gave up and stuck his finger in her mouth. He held the errant kernel on the tip of his finger.
“You want it?” he asked. She pushed on his shoulder and laughed the way one does when both embarrassed and happy.
Kizzy made her way over and joined them.
“How long are you staying, Kizzy?”
“I’ll probably leave before the weekend. You have a guest coming, right, Addie?”
Addison gave her a look.
“Sorry. I kind of like calling you Addie. It seems to fit suddenly. But don’t worry, I will get Addison—not Addie—a fabulous job in the fall.”
“Kizzy is a headhunter and I am out of work—the Page Six incident,” Addie added sheepishly.
“She was on track to be the first female head of the art department at a top Madison Avenue ad agency,” Kizzy embellished. Her pride was adorable.
“What about you?” Addison asked strictly out of politeness. She had already completed an online course in Ben Morse 101. And Kizzy was close behind her.
“I write for Sports Illustrated,” Ben responded.
Kizzy and Addison both shook their heads in acknowledgment, as if they didn’t already know where he worked, where he was born, and whether he wore boxers or briefs. Aside from Addison being present for the Spice Girls interrogation, there were a million interviews on the internet with this guy.
“Actually, your guest next weekend is my next subject. Terrence Williams—the Vagabond Surfer. He’s at the tail end of a year of surfing across the country, and he’s stopping here before heading to a big contest out in Montauk. Claims to be sleeping on people’s couches, but rumor has it he has a girl in every port.”
“I’ve heard of him! He’s a hottie.” Kizzy winked at Addison. “The first Black surfer to win the US Open of Surfing.”
“I didn’t know you were into surfing,” Addison remarked in surprise.
“I’m not. I’m into black people breaking stereotypes. How old is he?” she asked Ben.
“Pushing forty.”
“Perfect for that one-night stand you’ve never had, Addison.”
“Kizzy!” Addison shoved her. “Look who’s talking!”
“Well, I have been married since, like, the tenth grade. What’s your excuse?”
“It’s not happening,” Addison insisted before going back to busying herself with her corn.
Ben piped in, clearly feeling like one of the girls, “They serve a purpose, you know. No commitment. No feelings. Just sex. I’ve only had one-night stands since my wife passed away.”
“What if you develop feelings?” Kizzy asked, sincerely curious.
“In one night? Not a problem for me.”
“What about for them?” Addison asked.
“So far, no complaints.”
“That’s gross,” Addison said.
“There’s nothing gross about it. It’s totally transactional. Tit for tat.”
“You’re the tat, I presume.”
“I think this is my cue to leave,” he said, a bit flustered. “I’m going to take a lap. Receive some accolades for my winning run today.”
“Our winning runs,” Addison pointed out with a flirty smile.
“Our winning runs.” He smiled back at her as he stood, causing the sweet dimple to appear on his cheek. She felt like she was on an emotional roller coaster with this guy.
“Why did you bring that up, Kizzy? So embarrassing!”
“Sorry, what do you care? You’re not interested in him anyway, remember?”
Addison’s thumbnail went right to her mouth.
“Don’t sleep with the slightly manic, emotionally unavailable neighbor, under any circumstances, Addison. That is not a one-night stand. That’s a see-him-every-day-afterward-and-regret-it stand.”
Addison agreed, but fought the urge to cross her fingers as she did.