5. Jeanie
5 /
jeanie
Chip Clips Save The Day
Dex gives me a pep talk and kicks me out of the Beefmobile. Feeling lost, I wander the resort, still wearing the striped towel as a coverup.
I pass several people wearing unicorn masks similar to the one I found in my room. I’m about to ask someone about it, thinking it will help me rebuild memories of the previous night, but I become distracted by the sight of the hotel beach shop. My need for substantial clothing and deodorant supersedes all investigations or additional mental breakdowns.
With two sundresses draped over my arm, I sift through the swimsuits. One of these overpriced options will need to function as underwear until I can buy some. I remove a pink bikini from the rack that’s identical to Sophia’s. Six Dorito-sized triangles and a spiderweb of string make up the design. My head tilts as I puzzle out each triangle’s purpose.
“Rethinking topless sunbathing?” a husky voice asks.
My humiliation returns at the question. Slowly, I turn and find Mr. Motivational and his beaming whitening-strip smile.
“That was a one-time, unplanned showing.” I release a nervous laugh.
“I promise, I didn’t see anything,” he lies and holds up his palms.
“Either way, thanks for being a gentleman—mostly.” He seemed to avert his eyes in the elevator, after all, once he picked up his jaw.
“Do you typically stroll around a hotel in nothing but a towel and assless milkshake panties?” He gestures to my outfit.
I take a deep breath and narrow my gaze. “What’s your name?”
“Nathan Wolf.”
I surmise he’s more cub than wolf , probably in his late twenties. Thirty, max.
He leans on a nearby rack like he’s waiting for a boobalicious encore. Unfortunately for him, I found a few rogue chip clips in the Beefmobile’s kitchenette. Right now, they’re doing God’s work by keeping my towel secure.
Sorry to disappoint, but my T and A are on lockdown.
“Tell me, Nathan, have you ever woken up in a city thirteen hundred miles from where you live, sporting nothing but questionable milkshake panties with a strangely handsome blow-up doll as your only companion?” My serious expression suggests this is not a joke, and it’s only a snippet of the hot mess I find myself in.
When he tosses his head back with delicious raspy laughter, I can’t help but admire the way his dark scruff highlights his jawline and how his defined Adam’s apple bobs.
“I can’t say I have, but I’d love to know how that happens.” He grins, and a narrow scar one might mistake as a dimple slices his cheek. The imperfection is rugged and feels a little dangerous.
“As soon as I remember the details, I’ll let you know.” I tap my head before returning to shopping.
“Since I know you a little better, I think you should go with that one.” Nathan steps over to a rack of swimwear, singling out a surprisingly modest two-piece with bright yellow tropical flowers. “It’ll match your personality.”
“And what do you think my personality is after a thirty-second peep show?” I ask, truly curious. Why does a man I’ve spent all of two traumatic minutes with think he knows me?
“You strike me as someone who likes to have fun but hasn’t in a while.” He hits me with his blinding smile again.
Does he know me?
He leaves me hanging on the question and saunters to the other side of the store, where he studies a display of suntan lotion. Then he moves to a new rack and tries on several pairs of sunglasses.
Dex, Mom, and I try to have fun. Even Roman and I had fun before he left.
But if I’m being honest with myself, my fun factor has dropped dramatically over the last few years. A wrecked home life and a divorce have beat me up. You could say my lack-of-fun scars run deep, like, Mariana Trench deep.
Turning to Nathan’s swimsuit pick, I search for my size. Before he interrupted, I hadn’t considered trying it on, but with the new encouragement, I disappear behind the changing room curtain.
With the suit on, I adjust my boobs for maximum impact. I twist in front of the mirror and then tug at the elastic cradling my butt cheeks. I swear, it never stays in place. When all is somewhat secure, I primp and nod with satisfaction.
Good choice, Nathan Wolf.
The curtain flies open with a screech.
“Occupied!” I quickly say at the same time I instinctively cover myself.
Why couldn’t I do that in the elevator?
Sophia towers over me, holding the drapes open wide. She appears as annoyed as the time I locked her in a steamer trunk, addressed it to Alaska, and left her for the mailman. I was twelve and she was six. Like I always do, I strike the memory from my mind.
She’s nobody to me.
“That suit looks great on you,” she says, forgetting herself as she gives my body the once-over. When she remembers our rivalry, she shakes her head, appearing to dislodge the approval. Her perfectly microbladed brows knit with disbelief. “Roman warned me you were here.”
This encounter could veer many ways, including the violent one playing like a movie in my mind, involving the pointy end of a nearby beach umbrella’s pole. Controlling my anger, I step around her without a word.
Sophia is the bad guy here, not me. She’s marrying my husband. I don’t owe her any explanations.
I carry on without looking at her, knowing that being ignored is her pet peeve. I twist in front of my mirror, swinging my hips from side to side.
Sophia adjusts the ruffle on my shoulder, but I swat her hand away. Being told or shown what to do, specifically by her, even something as small as her gesture, is my pet peeve, and she knows it. Her action may as well be an act of war, the first warning shots fired.
I spin to face her. “It’s not my fault you guys crashed my divorce-cation.”
I spout the lie so easily, it makes me jolt. Is divorce-cation even a word?
To play it off, I snag a woven hat from a nearby rack and place it on my head. On the rim, it’s embroidered in cursive with the words Hola, Beaches .
Sophia offers me a skeptical look and folds her arms.
My gaze bounces between her prove-it glare and where Nathan stands at the register. Before thinking my story through, I clear my throat and say, “With my boyfriend.”
She startles at this information, and her demeanor refreshes to a flurry of confusion. “Where is he?” With arms wide, she scans the store in disbelief.
Because Nathan is the only other shopper, he wins her attention. Wearing a new full-rim straw hat and a pair of Aviator sunglasses, he turns and waves to me as he checks out at the register. I return the gesture with fluttering fingertips like we’re flirting.
Sophia’s eyes widen. She releases a high-pitched squeal and fast claps with the excitement of a dolphin launching spectacularly from the Atlantic. Before I can stop her, she scurries in his direction.
“Sophia, no!” I lunge for her, but somehow my tankini strings loop around the metal arm of a clothing rack. I sling-shot in several directions before untangling myself.
I race for Sophia and Nathan, but it’s clear before I even arrive, the damage is done. She’s already cornered him.