Chapter 53

Saturday, June 16

The first wave of cheerleaders arrived with the first swimmers and were quickly dispersed to the cabanas with the largest groups. We didn’t have any official parties booked for the day, but there were always those who maxed out on the number of guests allowed. There was nothing like the crowd the cheerleaders themselves made their weekend before camp, but there were several cabanas that had at least half a dozen occupants.

Business and the temperature increased swiftly and more than one attendant went to change shirts before the lunch rush hit. I hoped some of the guys would be able to make it through the day with four shirts. Jed was right, some of these hogs could sweat. Mr. Alvarez said he would have the Activity Center staff run a load of laundry after lunch just to be on the safe side.

At least the cheerleaders were used to getting sweaty with their workouts. I could just hear Morgan going “Eeewww!” and complain about feeling “all icky.”

Despite the crush and the heat, things went fairly smoothly. Molly Harris got her sunscreen, airplane ride and chicken strips for lunch. I think she also learned a couple of cheer routines.

The heaviest spate of lunch orders was starting to ease when Debbie Wilkes sought me out. She’d apparently arrived with the second cheerleader wave and had jumped right in with her charges.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” she said. “You were right about your girlfriend. She is a special case. I had a very productive talk with Mrs. Jenson.”

Was that before or after the clothes came off, I wanted to ask, but held my tongue.

“It’s all good,” I said. “I can understand you being protective of the girls, especially in light of the incident with Staci. Just understand I’ve had enough of my sister and her friends using me as their personal Ken doll. I’ve got enough people wanting me to play dress-up these days.”

“That’s what Arlene said,” the cheer coach said. “So, you’re going out to Malibu to model swimwear?”

“Yes, but please keep it to yourself,” I said. “I’ve already caught plenty of grief from the football players on the cabana crew. They’ve started calling me Derek Zoolander.”

That caused Miss Wilkes to give a little laugh.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, “but Arlene does like to show those pictures of you in the Speedo. I can see why you have to act like a Neanderthal sometimes to keep those girls in line. I’ll advise the cheerleaders to behave themselves, but I make no promises, especially if those pictures get out.”

And the odds of those pictures getting out were only slightly less than those of the sun coming up in the east. It wouldn’t surprise me if Morgan and/or Kacie had already posted them on social media. I was too afraid to look.

I thanked the cheer coach and asked how everything was going as far as the cabana attendant work was concerned.

“It’s not that much different than waiting tables in college,” she said. “The noise level is a lot higher and the danger of getting splashed takes some getting used to, but you can avoid that as long as traffic on the pool deck isn’t too bad.

“The girls seem to be enjoying themselves. Even I’m making good tips. And the access to the workout facilities is almost worth doing it just for that. Mr. Alvarez said we can use the aerobics studio to practice routines in addition to letting us lift weights.”

We went on with our day, fetching snacks, pouring drinks, applying sunscreen, restocking kitchenettes. Kacie, Morgan and friends joined Arlene at No. 16 about 1 p.m. and immediately wiped out the supply of drinks. I made the restocking run and took the time to check in with my girlfriend.

“What do you want to do tonight?” I asked as I lugged more sodas inside.

“Can we just go for a drive?” she replied. “Put the top down, crank up the radio, head north, head west, just get out of town for a couple of hours.”

“Do you want to eat before we leave?”

“I’m sure we can find something on the road,” she said. “There should be something in one of the little towns around here. We can still be home early enough.”

Having been given my orders, I resumed my duties. I was able to grab a bite when the third wave of cheerleaders arrived and was enjoying a Benavidez quesadilla at a picnic table when Arlene joined me.

“I’ve got the details for the flight out Wednesday morning,” she said. “We need to be at the airport by 6 a.m. That means I either pick you up at your house at 5 or talk Claire into letting you sleep over and leave from my house at 5:15.”

“Dad would probably have a stroke if that happened,” I said. “He’s already asked me if he can carry my bags. I had to tell him I’m just taking two changes of clothes in my carry-on and will probably only need one of those.”

“You will need something for Wednesday and Thursday evenings,” Arlene said, “so it probably won’t hurt to throw in one more shirt. Make sure to include at least one pair of slacks. I’d recommend wearing shorts for the flights out and back.

“Now, we pick up two hours on the way out. We’ll land maybe 30 minutes after we take off based on local times and get there right in the middle of morning rush hour. It should take us 45 minutes to an hour to reach the location in normal traffic. Of course, normal traffic in LA is about 10 times your worst nightmare around here.”

“Yeah, Dad has some horror stories to tell about driving out there,” I said. “His idea of bad traffic is having so many cars backed up at a stop light that it takes two changes to get through the intersection.”

“We won’t have to worry about driving, though,” she said. “We’ll be picked up by a car service at LAX and delivered to the beach house, hopefully by 9:30. They’ll be shooting some stuff that day, but your part will mostly be makeup and wardrobe. They will probably do some test shots to check lighting, but one untimely cloud can wreck that.”

Thursday would be a daylong shoot starting at sunrise (which would still be later than I normally started here) and likely extending into evening. They weren’t going to waste a Pacific sunset just because I’d been out there for more than eight hours. And with what they were paying (in addition to room, board and transportation, among other things), I would gladly stick around until exhaustion made it impossible.

As soon as that wrapped up, Staci Patterson requested a moment of my time.

“Daddy wants to meet you again,” she said, “so you can get his approval to take me out. We’re going to be here at 10:30 for the Father’s Day brunch in the main dining room.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said. “My family’s supposed to be there about the same time.”

The pool wouldn’t open until 1 p.m. Sunday, Mr Alvarez had said, because everyone would be at the brunch anyway. And since there was no delivery to sort, the cabana attendants weren’t required to show up until 12:30.

“Have you given any thought to where you’d like to go?” I asked the pretty cheerleader.

“I have some ideas,” she said, “but some of it will depend on when we can go. I was hoping for next week, but you’re going out of town with Arlene.”

“On a business trip,” I said. “You make it sound like I’m her boy toy.”

“You mean you aren’t?” she said with a naughty grin.

I was going to have to watch out for this one.

With so many attendants on hand, Mr. Alvarez sent half of us home at 4 o’clock with a reminder about tomorrow’s altered schedule. I checked with Morgan on my way out and was told she would be ready at 6.