Joetta had a wild streak that drove their parents crazy, but secretly, it scared Belinda, too.
“And his threads, so real, you know?”
“Yes. I know.”
No madras plaid or huarache sandals for this strong and silent out-of-town boy. He really wasn’t a boy at all. That’s the warning Belinda knew she should give Joetta. That’s what she should say. That she should keep the training wheels on with someone like Banks a bit longer before she went all the way with this new guy. He wasn’t even from here.
But she didn’t say that either.
She also worried that Joetta was drinking full-strength beer with that boy from out of town. Joetta was not good at drinking beer yet. They’d get good at it. In fact, that was one of Belinda’s goals for the summer, learning to look cool drinking beer. But right now, they had no idea how to look cool drinking beer—and, blech, the taste!
Plus, it was only a matter of time before their parents smelled the beer on Joetta.
“Well, he better get here soon,” Belinda said finally. “I’m not going to want to hear Mommy hassle us and not let us come out tomorrow.”
“Right on!”
Joetta’s gaze moved from the water to a spot on the beach where a broad-shouldered man with cut-offs, aviator sunglasses, and the look of someone who’d been somewhere other than here walked up and stood at the end of their mat. He was striking-looking. His jaw was square. He did look a little like Clint Eastwood, if Belinda was being honest. But he wasn’t a boy. And he shouldn’t be played with.
“Hey,” he said. That was it.
Hey. Man of few words, every time.
“Cover for me,” Joetta told Belinda. “Tell Mom, I’m uh, at Middle’s. Okay?”
As Joetta said it, she grabbed her beach bag, put her t-shirt and shorts in it, and took the man’s hand.
Joetta was out to lunch on this. But then again, she was out to lunch on most things.
Belinda watched as Joetta’s small hand disappeared into the hand of the strong and silent man from out of town.
Well, no one will bother Joetta with this bruiser on her arm, that’s for sure.
Belinda watched them walk away. Just then, Banks Armstrong plopped down next to her beach mat. She turned and could tell from his expression that he had also been watching the scene.
“She’s going out with him again?”
“Yes, crushing on him these days.”
“I don’t see it.”
Belinda noticed a pulse in Bank’s jaw. He was handsome, too, but Belinda saw the difference. She understood. Banks was what their parents would pick, and Bruce was who you picked to make your parents flip.
Poor Banks. He tried to be cool all the time, but she knew he’d give anything to date Joetta. But Joetta had made her pick.
Well, for today, anyway.
Fourteen
Ali– Present Day
Didi was a lovely hostess. That much was clear.
But she was also too old or too frail to be doing all she was trying to do. That was also clear.
When her husband Jorge made his way into the office with a walker, Ali started to get a sense of just why this place didn’t have a working phone, a clean beach towel, or a single guest.
Jorge was more salt than pepper in his wavy hair. He was tanner than Didi but had the same welcoming smile. Didi popped up from her chair and scurried around to be sure Jorge was safely sorted out. They were all situated around a card table in a tiny space that also had a sink and a fridge. It was more makeshift break room than a kitchen. It sat behind a door. On the other side of the door was the counter where guests checked in and did laundry.
