Chapter 22
Pickup game: Casual, spontaneous game, made up of whoever’s there. Just casual. Super casual.
Training with Vivienne was strange. Jess was so used to Tania’s routine, Tania’s banter, Tania’s preferences.
In two days, Jess had learned that Vivienne would only use black hair elastics, there always had to be a cooler on the sideline, because she liked ice water, and if she said “one more,” she meant five more reps … at least.
Chrissy and Shay joined them on the second day to help run some drills. They were three hours in, and Jess’s legs were feeling it.
“One more,” Vivienne said for the seventh time that drill, tossing a ball to Chrissy.
Jess tried to muffle her sigh. “Yeah.”
Vivienne folded her arms. “What’s with the sigh?”
“Nothing, it’s just … Have you ever noticed that you say ‘one more’ and do, like, ten more?”
Vivienne grinned. “What, you need a rest?”
“I’m good if you’re good.” Jess sniffed. “I just think precision of language is important.”
Vivienne shook her head, still grinning, and nodded at Chrissy to send the ball over.
Jess was tired, though. Her thighs refused to move in time to get the next short ball Chrissy tossed.
“Man, tall girls are slow sometimes.” Vivienne flicked a speck off her arm and examined her nails.
Jess climbed to her feet, brushing sand off her torso, and put her hands on her hips, lips tight.
Vivienne laughed. “Are you always this cranky during training?”
“I’m not cranky. I’m just…”
“What? Am I pushing your buttons?” Vivienne’s eyes widened. “Wait a second.… Is that where ‘Button’ came from?”
Jess sighed, reluctant to spill. “Yes. Tania says I let people push my buttons, okay? But we decided I’ve outgrown that nickname now.”
“Oh, have you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Hmm. Well, you’ll need a new nickname.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“J-Money?”
“Hard no.”
“J-Dog?” Chrissy suggested from across the net.
“No!”
Vivienne tapped her chin. “Stretch?”
Jess scowled. “What are you, a boy from my fourth-grade class?”
Chrissy tried again. “Messy Jessy?”
“What did I ever do to you, Chrissy?”
“Anyway,” Vivienne said, waving her hand, “it’s a work in progress. We’ll think of something.” She picked up the ball and dusted it off. “One more?”
Jess slid into the hot tub with a low groan of appreciation. She had earned this soak.
Vivienne came in reading her phone. “Looks like Aunt Veronica is throwing us a party!”
“A party? What kind of party?”
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “A birthday party, of course. There’ll be a clown making balloon animals and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.…” She paused at Jess’s confusion. “A cocktail party, Jess! Sort of a ‘good luck in the finals’ thing. Tomorrow night at her place in Horn Beach.”
“A cocktail party?” Jess suffered a flashback from when she was twelve and her mom started making her attend their client receptions to project a wholesome family image.
It was a real fight when she went through her black lipstick phase.
“What do I wear to a cocktail party at Veronica Doyle’s house? ”
“Something fancy. A dress-to-impress-type situation.”
“How fancy?”
“Why, do you have a wide selection of ball gowns?”
“Zero ball gowns, in fact. And only one thing with sequins.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I don’t know.…”
“How about I give you a ride home and come take a look at your closet?”
“Sure … and best of luck to you.”
They showered and stopped for tacos, and it was dark by the time they got back to Jess’s place, save for the waxing crescent moon bright in the sky.
“You want some tea or something?” Jess asked on their way in, dropping her keys on the shelf by the door.
“Sure, tea sounds good.” Vivienne followed her in and looked around. “Your place is great.”
Jess shrugged and went to turn the kettle on, stepping over the pile of clothes on the floor. “It’s small. Not as nice as yours.”
Vivienne made a dismissive noise. “I like yours better. It feels like … you.” She wandered over to the shelves by the window and examined Jess’s knickknacks. “These shells are pretty. Wait … are these the shells you stole off the beach?”
“Yeah. Those are my win–loss shells.”
Vivienne turned to face her. “I’m sorry.… Your what, now?”
“Um…” Jess sensed she was about to be in trouble. “I start off the season with sixty shells in the ‘win’ jar, and then every match we lose, I move one into the ‘loss’ jar.…” She trailed off at the expression on Vivienne’s face.
Vivienne pointed at the jar. “So, these shells are all your losses?”
“Yes.” Jess didn’t like the gleam in Vivienne’s eyes.
“These shells right here?” Vivienne picked up the jar.
“Yeah— What are you doing?”
Vivienne tucked the jar under her arm and marched out the front door.
“Vivienne!” Jess scrambled to turn off the kettle, grab her keys, and lock the door behind her. Vivienne was already halfway down the next block by the time she caught up. “Vivienne! Where are you going?”
Vivienne didn’t slow down—didn’t even look at her. “A jar full of losses. Honestly, Jess…”
Jess had to laugh at the determined expression on Vivienne’s face. “What are you doing with my shells?”
Vivienne refused to answer, only kicked her flip-flops off at the edge of the boardwalk and continued her march down to the water. It wasn’t until she was knee-deep in the Pacific Ocean that she stopped.
Jess halted at the water’s edge. “Vivienne, seriously. What are you doing?”
Vivienne finally looked at her—held eye contact while she reached into the jar, plucked out a single shell, held it up for Jess to see, then tossed it into the surf.
“Hey, that’s my shell!”
“Mm-hmm.” A second shell joined the first.
“Vivienne! Stop!” Jess chewed her lip and eyed the dark water at her feet.
Vivienne pulled out another one and held it up. “Your turn.” The wind whipped her black hair across her face in shadowed lines, her eyes gleaming bright.
Jess hesitated one more second then followed her in, gasping at the cold. “You’re crazy. This is fucking freezing.”
Vivienne handed Jess the shell. “Here. Toss it.”
A wave washed over Jess’s knees. The ocean hummed all around her. “I…” I can’t, she wanted to say, but … she couldn’t say why not.
Vivienne stepped closer. Her eyes were deeper than the ocean. “Go ahead.”
Jess hesitated, her gaze bouncing between the shining white curve in her hand and Vivienne’s steady conviction … then threw the shell as far as she could. It disappeared into the black, lost before it hit the water.
Vivienne tossed her head back and let out a whoop.
Jess reached into the jar, grabbed a handful, and flung the whole thing into the night. A laugh bubbled up and joined the shells.
Vivienne laughed, too. “Right?”
Jess took the jar from Vivienne.
“Wait!” Vivienne removed one shell and pressed it into Jess’s hand. “Here. Keep one.”
Jess tucked that shell into her pocket, then heaved the remaining losses out into the swirling salt water.
Vivienne howled again. Jess howled, too.
She had completely forgotten she was afraid of the ocean.
Later, wrapped in blankets to drive off the chill of the late October ocean, they sipped their tea while they sat on Jess’s love seat. Their knees touched, a low hum under her skin that she was constantly aware of.
Jess held her mug tightly, willing the heat to transfer into her fingers faster. “So, we’re going to drive all the way to Horny Beach tomorrow for a cocktail party? Who’s even going to be there?”
Vivienne shrugged a shoulder. “Mostly my mom’s family—aunts and uncles, some cousins—and family friends.
… My sister might even show, if she can make time in her extremely busy and successful life.
… Getting her to leave Brentwood is always a challenge.
But I was thinking we could make a day of it.
There’s this beach court near Veronica’s place I used to play at all the time when I was younger.
I bet we could find some decent matches there. It’ll be a fun day.”
“Okay, if you think so,” Jess agreed, even though … A mansion full of Vivienne’s family?
Not so much “fun” as it was absolutely terrifying.
It was funny thinking about the last time Vivienne drove her to Horny Beach. Awkward silences, worrying about crumbs, country music …
This time Vivienne played Backyard Chickens, and they laughed and chatted easily the whole way. Jess never once thought about needing to roll when she hit the ground. Vivienne tried to lay out her mother’s family tree for her, listing the people Jess would be meeting.
“But your parents won’t be here?” Jess asked once she thought she had the aunts and uncles straight.
“No.… My mom moved to New York for my dad after college. My brother lives there, too. Scarlett relocated her practice to LA once her book became a bestseller. I think she’s trying to work Veronica’s connections for a streaming deal, to be honest.”
They pulled into a small lot next to two beach volleyball courts. Veronica’s place towered above them on the hill. Battles raged on both courts, with a range of players from their late teens into their thirties and forties.
Vivienne and Jess climbed out of the car, stretched, and sat on the logs that ringed the parking lot, watching.
When a match finished, the victorious team—two men in their mid- to late thirties, blond, tanned, and toned—approached them. “You two up for a game?” one of them asked.
Jess and Vivienne stood.
“We sure are,” Vivienne replied.
“I’m Sawyer and this is Jayson.” Sawyer sized up Jess’s height and her and Vivienne’s muscled physiques. “Are you any good?”
Vivienne shared a look with Jess. “Yeah. We’re not bad.”
Sawyer and Jayson were a solid team—had probably played in university, or had at least spent long hours on the beach courts—but they weren’t amazing or anything. Which is why it was concerning when Jess and Vivienne were quickly down 0–3.
The first point they lost because they both stepped in to pass a seam serve.
“Shit, sorry,” Vivienne said after they collided and the ball shanked wildly away. “You’ve got seam.”