The rest of the drive is uneventful. Charlie talks about whether or not we want to stay for Saturday night too, but we don’t reach any kind of consensus. Olivia’s house is right on the water. It’s part of the Malibu Colony, this überexclusive community that’s full of movie stars. Her neighbors used to be Miley and Liam, before they split.
There is a pool in the back, on the deck, and then steps down to the beach. The entire place is decorated in a million different shades of white and beige, and there are black-and-white photographs of Olivia and her little brothers covering the walls, and bigglass bowls of shells sitting on coffee tables. Her house looks like the “after” on one of those home improvement shows.
We’re the first ones there. The boys will probably stop at In-N-Out Burger on their way, after surfing. I’m relieved they won’t be here for a little while. Just the thought of seeing Rob out of school is making my stomach knot. I don’t know what it will be like when it actually happens.
It’s cool when we step inside, the house full of ocean breeze—crisp and salty, the kind you can taste. Charlie and I toss off our shoes and race out to the sand. Olivia’s stretch of beach is a long one, and some of my favorite memories of the last four years are of waking up, still slightly drowsy, and walking in sweaters with steaming mugs of coffee down the shoreline.
“Wait for me!” Olivia calls. She’s already put on her swimsuit, a black bikini with multicolored polo horses.
The three of us drop down into the sand. The haze has lifted, and it’s sunny out. I close my eyes, lying down on my back. The warmth feels good, and for the first time since last Friday, I think maybe things will be okay. The familiar surroundings and the promise of us all spending time together reassure me. Rob will come to his senses. We’ll figure it out. That has to be the way the story ends.
Scene Four
Charlie is drunk. We’ve beentaking vodka shots by Olivia’s pool for the last hour, chasing them down with warm Diet Coke with lime. I’d put Charlie’s and Olivia’s count somewhere around five. I’ve been too nervous to have more than two shots, one and a half if you count the fact that I tipped most of the second one onto the deck when no one was watching. I know alcohol technically relaxes you, but I don’t want to be silly by the time Rob gets here. If we have to have a serious conversation, I want to be able to have it. Coherently.
Charlie is wearing a white halter top and a denim skirt and gold, dangly earrings she borrowed from Olivia’s mom’s bathroom. Olivia’s family keeps full wardrobes here even though Olivia says she can’t remember the last time her parents camedown. Olivia is still in her bikini, but she has a see-through purple cover-up thrown over it. I have on a sundress I’ve had since the seventh grade. It’s one of those cotton ones from American Eagle Outfitters that Charlie hates. She didn’t say anything tonight when I put it on, though. She just complimented my hair.
Olivia is wandering around with the vodka, haphazardly pouring it into red party cups.
“Who are thosefor?” Charlie asks, and cracks up laughing. She’s trying to fish a swimming noodle out of the pool and is teetering in her platform wedges, her drink sloshing over the side of her cup.
“You are an inch from catastrophe,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me.
Olivia comes over and tips the vodka bottle toward me, pouring me a full cup. “You need to drink more,” she informs me, and then taps her watch. “Any minute.”
Her cell phone blares. She answers it quickly.
“I told yooou,” she says into the phone, and then repeats some numbers, probably the gate code, and hangs up.
“They’re pulling in,” she says. Charlie nods, but her head doesn’t quite make it all the way back up.
My heart is racing, and I take a few tiny sips of my vodka. It burns, and I wince. My hands feel numb, and I clench and releaseone fist and then the other, switching the cup as the three of us head back inside. I can hear cars parking and doors slamming. I see John Susquich and Jake first. Then they are in the pantry, pulling out Doritos. Charlie plods her way over to them.
“Yo, babe,” Jake says, stuffing a chip into his mouth and attempting to kiss her at the same time.
“I missed you,” she slurs.
John takes off with the bag, and Jake positions Charlie’s arms around him.
“You smell like a burger,” I hear her say, before they start making out.
Ben is here too, and he’s accepting a drink from Olivia, his hand on the back of her neck.
Where is Rob?
“Hey, Caplet.”
I spin around, but it’s just Matt Lester and Lauren. They probably drove down with John. Lauren’s always invited, but I think she’s come once in the last four years. And that was when her family was in LA for the weekend and they dropped her off at two and picked her up at five.
“Hi,” I say, giving her a wave. She seems to be wrapped up in something Matt is saying.
“What, did they, like, caravan down?” Charlie is behind me, breathing into my ear.
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Are theytogether?”
“Matt and Lauren? Doubt it.” Except I don’t. As soon as she says it, I realize that’s exactly what’s going on. Matt has the same look he used to give Charlie, and his hand is dangerously close to Lauren’s back. She’s pretty in a soft, natural way. They actually make a cute couple.
