Chapter 18

Saturday-Sunday, May 26-27

Morgan permitted me a peck on the cheek when we dropped her off, so I figured the worst was over.

Kacie and I walked through the door at 10:32, close enough to on time that Mom didn’t raise a fuss.

“Did you kids have fun tonight?” Mom asked as we made our way to our end of the house, causing Kacie to choke as she tried to stifle a snort.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “They had a pizza buffet and plenty to drink. I thought the music was a little loud. I could hardly hear Kacie or Morgan.”

As soon as we were around the corner, Kacie slapped me on the arm for my brazenness. She looked like she was about to choke again as her eyes sparkled with unshed tears of laughter.

We went into our own bedrooms but quickly met up in the bathroom.

“I can’t believe you fed Mom that line of bullshit,” Kacie whispered.

“Tell me one thing I said that wasn’t true,” I said. “The music in there is always too loud.”

“And I still can’t believe you did IT with Arlene Jenson,” she said. “Every man at the club — and some of the women — will be jealous of you.”

“No they won’t,” I said, “because they’ll never know. I doubt Arlene will tell the world that she’s a cradle robber, and I’m going to have more than enough trouble making it up to Morgan.”

“I think you’ve at least started off on the right foot with her. She wouldn’t have let you hold her like that if she’d really been upset with you. I think she was just shocked that Arlene actually made a move on you.”

I left Kacie to perform her ablutions and went to get ready for bed. It was already nearly 11 and Mom would be starting early enough in the morning. I just hoped I didn’t lie awake all night reliving the experience.

Sunday started much like Saturday with Kacie rushing to get organized. She would be manning a face-painting booth for four hours this afternoon. I would basically be playing traffic cop, helping direct youngsters from one activity to another without getting too lost. I thought it would be better to set up a missing parents pen and let the kids run wild. They’d get hungry and have to come in. Eventually.

Mom decided we should ride with her so she could have us at the exact location she wanted. The bus was leaving at 9 a.m. and woe unto anyone who wasn’t boarded on time.

I didn’t know if Morgan would be there or not, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she worked the same booth as Kacie just because. I’d have to try to contact her after lunch.

Mom put me to work lugging boxes of supplies to the various activity sites, then let me break for lunch when all the kids started showing up. As long as I was at my assigned post by 1 p.m., I would be in good shape.

I wandered out to the pool and ordered a burger basket at the outdoor snack bar. Melinda Hernandez was again manning the window. I noticed she had a tip jar sitting there today. I wondered how much money I’d taken out of her pocket yesterday running orders back and forth.

“Hey,” she said as I stepped up to place my order. “Almost didn’t recognize you with clothes on.”

I fought down the urge to offer to get together so she could see me with my clothes off.

“I think I may owe you something for that,” I said, nodding at her tip jar. “I picked up a bit that should have been yours yesterday.”

“No, you did the legwork to earn whatever you got,” she said. “Mr. Ferguson told me about the idea of making it a regular gig, which should cut down on some of the traffic at the window. You could totally eliminate the cabana crowd and I’d still be swamped.”

I heard the ding of a bell and Melinda turned to grab my burger, poured my fountain drink and set it all on a tray. I paid with a $20 bill just to break it and put $5 in her tip jar.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Set the bar high,” I said. “Put pressure on the next customer to match or exceed. Have a few dollars in it when you put it out each day and see if that makes a difference.”

Bidding her good-bye, I found an empty table in the patio area and went to sit down. I had just taken a bite when Arlene Jenson sauntered up. I don’t know what it was about the woman. She didn’t walk, stride or stroll, she sauntered.

“How’s it hangin’, Stud?” she asked as she slid onto the bench to my left.

“It won’t be if you keep wearing outfits like that,” I said.

Arlene was clad in an emerald green halter one-piece that matched her eyes. It was cut a little fuller than the suit Morgan had worn the day before, but still had a plunging neckline that displayed copious amounts of cleavage.

“Flatterer,” she said. “You are incorrigible. You’ll make an old woman blush. Are you sure you’re just 18?”

“Not even,” I said. “My 17th birthday’s a week from next Thursday.”

That seemed to shock her.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I will have to be careful not to undermine the morals of such a fine example of American youth.”

She seemed to have resumed her role of the genteel Southern Belle which she’d played so effortlessly Saturday.

“Come by my cabana later and I’ll let you do my back,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said. “Mom has me working kids camps this afternoon.”

I gave my phone a quick glance.

“I’ve got about 15 minutes to report for duty.”

“Well, needs must,” she said, leaning in for an air kiss, “Mwah! See you later then, Sugar.”

I finished my burger, policed the area and returned the tray to the snack bar window.

“So, you and the hot divorcée, huh?” Melinda said with a big grin.

“Oh, please,” I said. “She’s just having fun teasing someone she knows won’t try anything. She’s so far out of my league I think she’s playing a different sport.”

Just as I was turning to go, Melinda hit me with a bombshell.

“So that wasn’t you I saw coming out of her cabana last night?”

“Couldn’t have been,” I said, fighting to maintain my composure. “I was with my sister and her friend at the teen lounge until it closed.”

Melinda’s revelation kept running through my head as I helped shepherd the younger kids around.

One little guy, who appeared to be about 4, clearly recognized me but couldn’t quite place me. The penny finally dropped as we passed one of the food stands.

“You gave me chicken strips yesterday at the pool,” he said. “Mommy says you’re a hunk.”

“Tell your mommy thank you very much,” I said while looking for a rock to crawl under just in case Daddy was around. “Maybe I’ll get to give you chicken strips again sometime.”

I was grateful to be able to unload the little munchkin before he asked me what a redheaded floozy was. I was able to maintain my dignity after that as no one else connected me with the wannabe exotic dancer running around the pool the day before.