Chapter 1 #2
Lee snickered, and the other pair getting ready smothered their giggles.
“Oh, just teasing,” Vivienne said in a sugary sweet purr.
So sweet it made Jess sick.
“Vivienne Morris is such a bitch,” Jess spat to Tania on their way out. “God, I can’t stand her.”
“I know,” Tania said.
“Those new uniforms of theirs, like, please. Black? Who wants to wear black in the sun?”
“They look good, though.”
“Not really,” Jess grumbled, even though they both knew that Vivienne and Lee looked amazing.
They were passing by the courts when Jess noticed the Sunside Cable cameras. “They’re televising this one?” Not many games in their league were shown on TV. Aside from winning the state championship and getting an invite to join the pros, a televised game was as good as it got.
“Looks like it,” Tania said wistfully.
Vivienne and Lee were on the court warming up like clockwork—dig, set, hit, dig, set, hit … almost boring in its efficiency. That was the way Vivienne played. Straight-faced, little emotion, smooth and steady. The exact opposite of Jess.
“You want to watch for a bit?” Tania asked.
“Gotta get to work.” Technically speaking, Jess had a few minutes to spare, but she was not in the mood.
“Oh, right. Maggie’s after then?”
“I’ll see how I feel.”
“I know ‘I’ll see’ usually means no, so consider this my formal request for you to please come.”
Jess hugged her, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come.”
Tania squeezed her back. “Love you.”
The amusement park was not far down the boardwalk from the volleyball pavilion.
Jess enjoyed the walk, flip-flops slapping on the sandy slats while gulls wheeled overhead, their cries mingling with the steady roar of the surf.
The sun on her shoulders and smell of the salt in the air was a balm to her wounded ego.
She could almost forget about losing … almost.
From the employee entrance she made her way to the staff locker room—a cramped space with an aroma of stale popcorn and disinfectant with a slight undernote of sour sweat.
Sometimes it seemed like she spent half her waking hours in locker rooms, and they all smelled bad.
Jess pulled out her uniform—although “uniform” was an insult to all other uniforms. It was a neon-green T-shirt with an orange vest and bow tie sewn onto it.
Clearly, whoever had designed it had a sick sense of humor, or maybe some sort of early-childhood cotton-candy trauma that they enjoyed taking out on amusement park employees.
Jess had recently earned the title of “manager” for the midway games, but so far that meant only a bit more money and a lot more problems to solve.
It wasn’t a long-term career plan, but as long as she was playing in the Southern California Beach Volleyball League from April to October, it was perfect.
Only steps apart, she could schedule her shifts around her games, and nothing on the midway was too taxing, mentally or physically.
And maybe one day … maybe … she could leave it all behind for the pros.
During a lull in the line, she leaned on the ring toss counter, thoughts drifting back to that last losing point.
In her mind, she stuffed the ball back in Chrissy’s face.
The crowd roared. Scouts from the pro league happened to be there, nodding and making notes on their clipboards.
That hardly ever actually happened, of course.
Scouts weren’t in the habit of plucking players from the obscurity of the SoCal VL and bringing them up to the Pacific Beach League.
The only sure way to earn a spot in the pro circuit was to win the state championship.
She and Tania had almost made it to the finals their first season together, Jess new to the league and the two of them fast friends, but finished near the bottom last year.
Vivienne and Lee, meanwhile, were a new team last season and had come so close to earning the pro invite when they won the SoCal league, but had fallen just short in the state final.
Speaking of Vivienne … Jess swiveled her gaze to the lifeguard station that was visible not far down the beach.
Vivienne wasn’t there, of course, she was playing right now, but Jess had grown used to seeing her perched high on her chair, looking down at the world, much like the way she looked down on Jess and just about everyone else.
The second time they ever spoke, Jess had been wandering along the shore, head down, collecting a pocketful of seashells.
She had just uncovered a particularly beautiful one—the inside shimmering pearlescent in the fading evening sun—when Vivienne’s snooty voice floated down from the lifeguard chair.
“You’re not supposed to take seashells.”
Jess blinked at her, recognizing Vivienne instantly, but needing a second to figure out why she was eight feet up in the air. “Excuse me?”
Vivienne had lifted her sunglasses and was examining Jess intently. “I’m just telling you. It’s illegal.”
Jess’s hackles went up. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t, really. But beach patrol would love to give you a big fat ticket.” Vivienne crossed one gleaming leg over the other.
Jess clenched her fist around the shell, Vivienne’s haughty tone making her want to throw the shell right at her head. “I’m not worried about it.”
Vivienne shrugged and leaned back, flicking her sunglasses into place. “Suit yourself.”
“‘Suit yourself,’” Jess had muttered, stomping away. “How about ‘go fuck yourself’?”
Jess sighed. Vivienne hadn’t changed a bit in the year since.
After an uneventful shift—not so busy that she felt discombobulated, but not so slow that she had to resort to counting the minutes until her escape—Jess trudged to the locker room and changed out of her hideous uniform and back into her gray tank top.
She tried to do something with her limp brown hair but it proved futile so she left it down, lifeless and flat.
Her gaze rested on the magazine page she had taped up in her locker.
… Bianca Collazo, star of the professional Pacific Beach League.
Bianca had played in the SoCal VL four years ago and won the state title, and was now a bona fide celebrity—endorsement deals with major brands, guest appearances on sitcoms …
Bianca had it all. And she had been right where Jess was today.
So Jess dreamed.
Maggie’s wasn’t too packed, since peak tourist season had yet to arrive.
The old bar’s entrance was off the boardwalk, with the other side open to the beach, a faded deck extending onto the sand, usually humming with live music and women who liked women.
The name came from the owner’s love of Dame Maggie Smith, and photographs of Maggie in her most iconic roles were featured throughout, mixed with portraits of the VL stars who had made it to the pros, like Bianca.
Right next to the volleyball pavilion, the bar was the main hangout for the athletes in the league.
Anytime Jess popped in, she was sure to recognize some friends … or foes.
Like Vivienne Morris, sitting at Jess’s favorite table with Lee, Chrissy, and a few other players.
Jess let out what could only be described as a growl.
“To our winning streak!” Lee shouted as Jess approached, raising a shot glass.
Vivienne toasted her partner.
Lee swallowed her shot and pointed at Vivienne. “See, my lucky visor is working. You wanted me to get a new one to match our uniforms but I told you, it has magical powers.”
Vivienne shook her head and smiled at her teammate.
And the smile turned her into a dazzling beauty.
Which made Jess hate her even more. Jess had always considered herself plain-looking.
And while her height and broad shoulders were advantageous on the volleyball court, they were not so useful growing up, and certainly didn’t help her meet conventional beauty standards now.
But Vivienne was effortlessly beautiful, as she was effortlessly everything else.
Jess slumped into a chair at the other end of the table.
Chrissy saw her and leaned over to greet her above the hubbub of the bar. “Hey, how was work?”
“Fine.”
“Did you catch any of the game? Viv and Lee crushed it. Viv actually—”
Jess lurched back to her feet. “Sorry, you know what? Hold that thought. I really need a drink.” She abandoned Chrissy and her fawning and made her way to the bar.
A bachelorette party was in the way. A cluster of partygoers blocked her path, screeching and passing shots around.
They were obviously not from Southern California—most of them clearly hadn’t seen the sun in months.
The bride-to-be wore a wedding veil and a glittering pink bachelorette sash labeled brIDE #1, but it was the woman next to her in a pale yellow sundress who caught Jess’s attention.
Sultry and curvy, flowing dark brown hair, wide eyes, and an alluring vibe that pulled Jess in.
Even if Jess wasn’t a dazzling beauty herself, on occasions such as these, she reminded herself that she was in excellent shape and her boobs looked good in a tank top.
And sometimes women were really into her size.
She could pick most of them right up, in fact—a fun party trick.
But the question now was whether the woman in the yellow dress liked women.
Jess edged through the crowd, passing right by Yellow Dress. Their arms brushed and Yellow turned. She smiled when their eyes met. Jess smiled back, cheeks warming. Once she got to the bar, she waved down the bartender and ordered a Corona. Yellow continued to watch her.
Go talk to her, Jess said to herself, sipping her beer. She’s looking at you. But she didn’t even have a chance to chicken out as usual, because Yellow approached.
“Hi.”
Jess tried not to stare at her cleavage … her very lovely cleavage. “Hi.”
“I saw you come in.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jess gulped and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah. You were sitting over there, right?” Yellow nodded at the table of volleyball girls.
“Yup.” Jess resisted the urge to tug at the hem of her tank top and prepared herself for what was coming next … the usual comments she got, something about her height or exceptional tan.
“What’s the deal with her?” Now Yellow pointed at the table.
“Uh…” Jess blinked. “Sorry?”
“The little one there on the end with black hair? Is she into women?”
Jess turned to look. The little one on the end…?
Vivienne.
Vivienne fucking Morris.