Chapter 18 Under Our Lights #2
I knelt beside the hot tub and cleared a leaf from the intake. Bristol crouched on my other side, her black tank and fitted olive shorts clean despite three hours of guest problems trying to find her. Her dark hair was tied low. The first-aid kit sat by one knee, untouched.
"No injuries," she said.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm thrilled. The kit is organized too beautifully for drunk strangers."
She tested the water with two fingers, then put those fingers against the inside of my wrist. Cool drops ran beneath my sleeve.
"You need water," she said.
"My whole family has formed a committee."
"Drink anyway."
Bristol placed a bottle in my hand and left to intercept a guest backing into the float rack. She never raised her voice. The man changed direction as if the idea had been his.
Music rolled across the deck from the handmade bar. Vina controlled the playlist with one hand and built drinks with the other. She wore a red halter top and black shorts, both cut for trouble and practical enough to let her work. Every time the line grew, she got faster and funnier.
"If you say surprise me," she told a fraternity guy, "I'm charging you for whatever I need to forget this conversation."
He ordered a beer.
Luna's dock radio cracked at my hip. I looked down and realized she'd clipped it to me without asking while I was fixing the intake.
"Dock two," her voice said through the speaker. "I need your reach, Brewster."
I returned the radio to my belt and headed down the lit path. Luna met me halfway, white tank damp at the collar and cutoffs marked with dock grime. She took my hand without slowing.
"New captain," she said. "Thirty-footer. Thinks momentum is a personality."
"You always bring me the romantics."
"I bring you the heavy things. It's why I keep you."
She squeezed my fingers and pulled me toward the water.
By the time the pontoon was secure, the grill still burned, the pool relay had produced a winner, the bar had not caught fire, every path light worked, and Poppy's count remained under every cap she'd set.
Brewster Bay looked full.
It also looked like us.
I heard the phrase near the condiment table while I was carrying an empty ice bin back toward the bar.
"That's one of Nash's Girls," a guy said.
His friend followed his glance toward Luna at the dock. "Which one?"
"All six are here."
They said it the way people said the bar closed at two or the north point got rough after dark. Lake information. Useful if you planned to stay awhile.
Kit came up behind me at the service path and slipped both arms around my waist. Her cheek rested between my shoulder blades while I held the bin.
"You stopped moving," she said.
"For three seconds."
"Should I call someone?"
I set the bin down, turned inside her arms, and kissed her. Kit opened for me with the ease of years, one hand sliding behind my neck while the other settled at my waist. She tasted like lemonade and smoke from the grill.
"Dad needs more plates," I said against her mouth.
"Dad needs to learn patience."
"Tell him that."
"Absolutely not."
She kissed me again, slower, then pressed her lips near my ear. "You're very hot when this place needs you, baby."
"That sounds unhealthy."
"For you, probably."
Poppy found me sitting on the low bench behind the grill with a water bottle between my knees. Her clipboard landed beside my thigh. She climbed into my lap and tucked herself against me before asking whether I had time.
"Thirty seconds," she said.
"You used those already."
"New fiscal quarter."
Her arms circled my neck. I put one hand on the bare thigh her dress had left across mine and the other around her waist. She exhaled against my collarbone, all her bright public energy folding safely into me.
"Still proud of me?" she asked.
"More every time another registered boat gets in without you killing anybody."
"That's so romantic."
I tipped her face up and kissed her. Poppy gave me tongue at once, then smiled into my mouth when my hand tightened on her thigh.
"Later," she whispered. "I'm taking that shirt off with my teeth."
"You own hands."
"Where's the fun in that?"
She kissed my jaw and left my lap at the sound of her name from the dock.
Vina passed her on the way in, caught the brim of my faded cap, and took it off my head without slowing.
"Mine," she said.
She put it on backward over her red hair, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me up into her mouth. The kiss hit fast. Cherry gloss, lime, tongue, a light bite that made my grip close around her waist before she released me.
"You stole my hat."
"I improved it."
"That wasn't a request."
"Neither was the kiss. You survived both."
She backed toward the bar with my cap still on her head. "Bring ice, Smoke Show. Then maybe I'll let you taste me again."
Lucy caught my hip as I passed the pool. She was still calling teams, still tracking towels, still somehow aware that I hadn't answered her.
"Net after this round," she said. "It's sagging."
"I fixed it earlier."
"You fixed it like a tall man. Fix it like a useful man."
Her fingers dug into my side. She kissed my cheek, then turned and blew the whistle before I could defend my profession.
Bristol stepped out of the path to let me pass with the ice. Her thumb swept once across my lower lip, collecting the faint red mark Vina's gloss had left there.
"Evidence," she said.
"Are you filing it?"
"Destroying it."
She wiped her thumb on my shirt and continued toward a guest who needed directions.
The overlaps came fastest at the bar. I dropped Vina's ice into the chest while Kit reached past me with a sleeve of cups, her breasts brushing my arm and her hand settling at my lower back to keep me close.
Poppy arrived from the dock with her clipboard hugged to her chest and stole the lime Vina had just cut.
"Inventory loss," Vina said.
"Management privilege," Poppy said, sucking the juice from her thumb.
Kit held a cup to my mouth. I drank while Poppy leaned against my other side and Vina kept two fingers hooked in the front of my shirt.
Luna's voice came through the radio at my belt asking for another fender.
Lucy pointed at the sagging net from across the pool.
Bristol tucked a second water bottle into my back pocket as she passed, apparently unconvinced the first one had worked.
Nobody asked anybody else to move.
Kit kissed my shoulder and carried her cups toward Bella.
Poppy called me baby, stole another lime, and headed back to the dock before Vina could charge her for it.
Vina pulled me close enough to lick a drop of lemonade from my lower lip, then shoved the ice scoop into my hand because wanting me had never made her line disappear.
Luna repeated my name through the radio with less patience.
Lucy blew her whistle. Bristol glanced at the unopened bottle in my pocket and raised one eyebrow.
The six of them never formed a line. They moved around me and around each other, taking what the work allowed and leaving me with private promises under public lights.
The rest of the lake had simply learned the name for it.
Jessa's version arrived twenty minutes later.
She stood near the pool with Poppy, passing out scorecards for a cannonball contest, when a guy in a fraternity shirt pointed between her and me.
"So you're number seven?"
Jessa took a drink, considered him over the rim, and handed the scorecards back to Poppy.
"I'm Jessa Lane. I have my own name, my own drinks, and six friends with excellent taste in men. I don't need a number."
"I was just asking."
"And now you know. Growth is beautiful."
Poppy hooked her arm through Jessa's and pulled her toward the pool edge. "Come on, J. We have men to score badly."
"Finally, a system I support."
They left him laughing despite himself.
Sam and Sally were restocking water at the pool station. His arm rested around her waist while she checked a supply note on her phone.
"You know you're carrying her bag, her drink, and the towels," I said.
Sam looked down at himself. "I know. I'm having an incredible night."
Sally leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Best unpaid employee on the lake."
"I thought I was your boyfriend."
"Benefits package is still under review."
He looked at me. "You see what I live with?"
"Every day of my life."
Sally pointed at both of us. "Keep talking. There are toilets inside that need attention."
Sam picked up the towels. "We were just leaving."
They walked off pressed together, arguing about which one of them had started flirting first. Nothing needed approval. Nothing needed explanation.
Neither did the women moving through Brewster Bay with my fingerprints in private places and no hesitation about touching me where the whole lake could see.
Dad caught my attention from the outdoor bar and lifted a folded tally sheet.
"Clinic," he said. "Now, before everybody gets too tired to remember math."
The four parents gathered at the end of the working bar while Vina served around us. Frank kept the tally sheet under one hand. Bella carried a glass of water. James and Tina stood close enough to hear without blocking the service lane.
Luna came up from the dock and fit herself against my side. Poppy arrived with her clipboard still tucked under her arm. Vina kept my cap and half an ear on us while she cut limes.
Dad looked at Luna and me. "Guest feedback?"
"Good," Luna said. "Several asked for another clinic."
"Gear?" James asked.
"Normal wear," I said. "Nothing unsafe. We repair before we repeat."
"Staffing?"
Luna shook her head. "No room to add bodies. Same crew or we don't run it."
Tina glanced at Bella. "Food and fuel worked?"
"They worked," Bella said. "Costs stayed where we could live with them."
Dad tapped the paper. "Capacity?"
Poppy answered. "Hard cap. Confirmed list. Deadline and waitlist. No exceptions because somebody's cousin forgot to plan."
"Your system," Dad said.
"My system."
"Then we use it."