Chapter 36 Gigi
Gigi’s interest was piqued.
There had always been something a little too waxy about Lillian and James’s relationship. Here was the evidence that Gigi
hadn’t been bitter. She’d been correct.
“Why would the island exile you?” Gigi asked Lillian in the pool.
“My ex-fiancé didn’t call off the wedding,” Lillian said. “I did.”
“Okay?” Gigi was trying to connect the dots. “That’s still not some scarlet-letter secret that will turn you into a social
pariah. People call off weddings all the time.”
“I wasn’t in love with him,” Lillian went on. “I loved him, yes, but I wasn’t in love. Not the real thing. I’ve never actually been in love with a man.”
Lillian was evidently very torn up about this. Gigi felt the urge to be kind. It was suddenly much easier to be friendly knowing
she wasn’t with James. “Honestly, I’m not sure I ever have either,” Gigi said.
“Never?” Lillian seemed surprised.
“Not really,” Gigi said. “I get swept up in the hormones and honeymoon stage and then go running when it gets tough. Blame
it on daddy issues.” She laughed, though it didn’t taste funny on her tongue. It tasted metallic.
“But you’re attracted to men,” Lillian said. “Even if they’re sometimes the wrong ones.”
“They’re always the wrong ones,” Gigi said, thinking of Ronny and feeling a splash of self-respect for how she’d walked out on him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Lillian kept her eyes on the bottom of the pool. The tiles shone with refracted light. “It’s just a difference,” she said.
“Between you and me.”
The implication seeped into Gigi gently, with the waves their bodies had made.
She felt surprise first and guilt second. She replayed all those years she’d been a menace to Lillian. Their friendship-turned-rivalry
looked different in this light. Was that why Lillian had been so obsessed with being the best at everything? Because there
was another area where she felt inadequate? Not that this made her inadequate, of course, but she could see how Mackinac would
have made her feel like that.
“So you’re for the girls,” Gigi said, hoping Lillian could feel how much a nonevent this was for her. “That’s great. No need
to go around putting up smoke screens.”
Lillian seemed to breathe more deeply, but that might have just been because Gigi was watching her now. Seeing her now.
“But you’re well-traveled and worldly,” Lillian said, and Gigi soaked in the praise. “Not like the islanders. They’d drown
me in the lagoon if they found out.”
Gigi thought Lillian was being a bit dramatic. Though she’d had a lifetime’s practice disappointing people, so maybe she was
better inured. “Everyone loves you,” Gigi said. “They’d be fine with it.”
“Not my parents,” Lillian said glumly.
Gigi empathized. Lillian’s parents were quite conservative, first-generation immigrants who had always liked to remind Lillian
how much they had sacrificed to give her a better life. And now they would likely see it as Lillian throwing that better life
back in their faces.
Gigi felt newly grateful for her own mother. Though Eloise vocally disapproved of a lot about Gigi’s lifestyle, she knew Eloise would always love her, always let her back in the front door (or the side door at least, since only special guests were permitted to enter from the front).
“You can talk to my mom if you want,” Gigi offered. “She’d actually be pretty reasonable about it, I think.”
Lillian thanked her for the offer. “You’re lucky to have her,” she said. “And by the way, this is why James hasn’t been pursuing
you more. I’ve had him trapped in this PR contract.”
Gigi moved into the deep end to tread water. Lillian followed her gracefully.
“Don’t blame yourself for that one. He’s not interested in me.”
“He is,” Lillian said. “You just intimidate him.”
“That’s what my mom and Nonni used to say when boys weren’t interested in me. I don’t need pity.”
“It’s not pity; it’s true. He cares about you, Gigi.”
Gigi couldn’t help but hope Lillian might be right. “Then he should be man enough to tell me himself. Not use you as his mediator.”
“He thinks if people start seeing you two together, it’ll make my life harder. Raise more questions.”
“Even if you and James break up, no one’s going to think you’re into girls,” Gigi said. “You and I could make out right now
and people still wouldn’t get it.”
Lillian blinked. “Won’t that make it harder, though? That no one has seen it coming?”
“Maybe,” Gigi admitted.
“I’ll be disowned.” Lillian circled back to the start of the same argument she seemed to have had with herself hundreds of
times.
“Being disowned by an entire island isn’t really so bad,” Gigi said. “Take it from me.”
Lillian appeared comforted for a brief moment, then confused. She was watching someone over Gigi’s shoulder. Gigi turned around
to look. A man was walking toward them. Dark-haired and burly, in black leather pants, thick stubble shading most of his face.
Gigi’s body jolted underneath the water.
“That kind of looks like... ,” Lillian said.
Gigi opened her mouth. A single word dropped out. “Dad.”
***
The wrinkles on his forehead had deepened. His face was stiff and sunburnt. A new scar marked his upper lip. But it was him,
with that air of adventure, as if he had seen things that no one on this island could ever understand. Gigi approached cautiously,
wary he might disappear like a mirage.
“Kiddo!” Gus said, opening his arms wide.
Gigi let him hug her. She hugged back. It felt like home. He smelled like sweat, bourbon, and worn leather.
“I like the new hair,” Gus said. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Gigi said and Gus laughed.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I know how you like surprises,” he said, dark eyes twinkling. “After I got that text of yours, I booked my trip right away.
Is your mother around?” He scanned the grounds.
Gigi felt powerful that her one little text had spurred him into such action. It was far more than she’d expected. Yet she
was hesitant, too, wondering if she’d meddled too close to the sun. “She’s at work.”
“I heard she’s been spending some time at the Grand.”
“Her boyfriend lives at the hotel,” Gigi said, sticking with the word boyfriend that she’d used in her text. “He’s from Scotland, very famous.”
“That’s exciting,” Gus said, but he didn’t look excited. “Mick Reeves says they’re getting real serious,” he went on.
Mick was a Harrisonville neighbor, famous for his ferrety mustache and ability to belch the University of Michigan fight song.
“I didn’t know you kept up with him,” Gigi said.
“Just saw him down at the Yankee Rebel. He bought me a drink and we watched the end of the Tigers game.”
So Gus had been on the island drinking and watching baseball for some time before he’d thought of going to find his daughter. It didn’t surprise Gigi, but it still hurt. The scraping of something old made new once more.
She wondered again if she had made a mistake texting Gus that picture. Though if she was being honest with herself, this was
probably what she’d secretly wanted. For Gus to get jealous and come back to the island and fight for Eloise, fight for their
family. But it had seemed so unlikely, so impossible, until right now. And now that it actually might be happening, the whole
thing seemed like a very bad idea.
Eloise was having a magnificent summer with Clyde, and now Gus was going to ruin it, which meant Gigi was going to ruin it.
“Let’s get your mother and take her out to lunch,” Gus said. “We’ll go to the Chuckwagon. None of this fancy-person shit.”
Gigi almost felt guilty for enjoying it here.
Clyde had noticed Gus’s presence. He was walking over, still wearing nothing but the Speedo.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Gus said. “What’s he doing wearing a thong?”
Though Gigi had just critiqued Clyde’s Speedo herself, she now felt the urge to defend him. “Speedos are a cultural thing.
They’re the norm in Europe.”
“This isn’t Europe,” Gus said. “It’s America.”
Clyde came to a stop in front of them.
“This is my dad,” Gigi said to Clyde. She wanted to feel proud of it. She wanted to feel like she was rooting for her father
more than a quirky man she’d only met a month ago. But she was having a hard time feeling anything other than guilt for the
fire Gus seemed about to start.
“Gus Jenkins.” He was not one for handshakes, but he shook Clyde’s hand now with what looked to be a death grip. “Eloise’s
husband.”
“Ex-husband,” Gigi added quickly. She wanted Clyde to know that there was nothing still between them. Even as part of her—the part that had sent Gus the text—still hoped that there was, that there might be.
“No.” Gus’s smile stretched wide. He looked a bit deranged, really. “We never got divorced.”
Gigi stood there waiting for the punch line. It never came.