this island?”
“I’d rather not discuss it,” Liz said and gulped her drink, shaking the ice at the bottom.
“Marie, this is Cricket, my newest waitress,” Karla said, introducing me to her girlfriend. “Amy trained her all week and she’s ready to bust out on her own.”
“Hey, there,” Marie said, and then laughed a little. “How did your niece feel about training a cute blond?”
“Your niece?” I asked.
“Oh, Karla, look, it’s Lisa. I’ve got to talk to her about the garden tour before Annabelle Burke does,” Marie said.
“Gotta run,” Karla said. “And hey, when are you moving into the Surfside house?”
“She’s not,” Liz said before I could answer. “She’s living with me.”
“Okay, see ya,” Karla said. She pointed to my cup and added, “Don’t get caught with that drink.”
“Liz, are you sure?” I asked, handing the rest of my drink to her. She handed it back.
“ ’Course I’m sure. I’m not one of those girls who likes to be alone.”
“Thank you!” I said. “That’s so awesome of you. Seriously.”
“Is that your bartender?” Liz asked, not letting me fuss. I turned to see Ben step onstage with his guitar. “This better not be a love song. I’m not drunk enough.”
Ben began to strum. It was a love song. His voice was low and kind of country. It was a little rough, so that even though he was singing quietly about the moon, it had grit. I was just starting to melt into his voice when I saw Amy swaying to the music, front and center, gazing at him like he was a rock star.
“I can’t tell if they’re dating,” I said to Liz, motioning to Amy. “But she’s definitely—”
“Fucking him,” Liz said with a full mouth.
“I was going to say ‘in love.’ Check out the way she’s looking at him.” Amy’s head was tilted. Her eyes were focused and soft with emotion. For the first time, she looked sweet.
“She may be looking at him,” Liz said, “but he can’t take his eyes off of you.”
Twenty
I WAS IN THE WALK-IN FRIDGE at Breezes, standing on my tiptoes and reaching for a fresh container of nonfat milk so I could stock the coffee station (nonfat milk is a lot easier to foam than whole), when I felt a sharp, searing pain in my neck. I gasped and clutched the place where my shoulder met my neck on the right side and which was now tight and throbbing. Ouch. My whole body contracted and curled. I was bent over, eyes squeezed shut, seeing yellow spots, when I felt a sure, calm hand on my back.
“Breathe.”
It was Ben.
“My neck,” I said, sucking refrigerator air in through my teeth.
“It’s probably just a muscle spasm,” Ben said, guiding me to a milk crate.
“It really hurts,” I said, sitting down on the crate.
“It’s tension. You need to relax.”
It was true. I was exhausted from seven consecutive days of waitressing, early mornings covering for Liz, and squeezing in lacrosse practice whenever I could, which had only been twice. My plan was working. I’d only been waitressing for a week, and I’d already made a thousand dollars—but as another flash of pain struck, I knew it was time for a break.
“I got ya,” Ben said, pulling up another milk crate and sitting behind me. “Let go of your shoulder.”
“I can’t.” I was afraid if I let go, the pain would spread.
“Breathe with me.”
I took a deep breath in and he rested his callused guitar hands on my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into my neck. We breathed together a few times.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh.” The pain changed color, broke apart. I risked turning my head. “Ouch!”
“Just focus on what’s right in front of you.”
“Mayonnaise,” I said, looking up at a wall of industrial-size jars of condiments. Ben laughed, and I could feel it in his hands as he continued to knead my shoulders.
“How’s it now?”
“Still pretty bad,” I said. Even though the pain had dissipated, I didn’t want him to stop.
“I know what you need. You
“I’d rather not discuss it,” Liz said and gulped her drink, shaking the ice at the bottom.
“Marie, this is Cricket, my newest waitress,” Karla said, introducing me to her girlfriend. “Amy trained her all week and she’s ready to bust out on her own.”
“Hey, there,” Marie said, and then laughed a little. “How did your niece feel about training a cute blond?”
“Your niece?” I asked.
“Oh, Karla, look, it’s Lisa. I’ve got to talk to her about the garden tour before Annabelle Burke does,” Marie said.
“Gotta run,” Karla said. “And hey, when are you moving into the Surfside house?”
“She’s not,” Liz said before I could answer. “She’s living with me.”
“Okay, see ya,” Karla said. She pointed to my cup and added, “Don’t get caught with that drink.”
“Liz, are you sure?” I asked, handing the rest of my drink to her. She handed it back.
“ ’Course I’m sure. I’m not one of those girls who likes to be alone.”
“Thank you!” I said. “That’s so awesome of you. Seriously.”
“Is that your bartender?” Liz asked, not letting me fuss. I turned to see Ben step onstage with his guitar. “This better not be a love song. I’m not drunk enough.”
Ben began to strum. It was a love song. His voice was low and kind of country. It was a little rough, so that even though he was singing quietly about the moon, it had grit. I was just starting to melt into his voice when I saw Amy swaying to the music, front and center, gazing at him like he was a rock star.
“I can’t tell if they’re dating,” I said to Liz, motioning to Amy. “But she’s definitely—”
“Fucking him,” Liz said with a full mouth.
“I was going to say ‘in love.’ Check out the way she’s looking at him.” Amy’s head was tilted. Her eyes were focused and soft with emotion. For the first time, she looked sweet.
“She may be looking at him,” Liz said, “but he can’t take his eyes off of you.”
Twenty
I WAS IN THE WALK-IN FRIDGE at Breezes, standing on my tiptoes and reaching for a fresh container of nonfat milk so I could stock the coffee station (nonfat milk is a lot easier to foam than whole), when I felt a sharp, searing pain in my neck. I gasped and clutched the place where my shoulder met my neck on the right side and which was now tight and throbbing. Ouch. My whole body contracted and curled. I was bent over, eyes squeezed shut, seeing yellow spots, when I felt a sure, calm hand on my back.
“Breathe.”
It was Ben.
“My neck,” I said, sucking refrigerator air in through my teeth.
“It’s probably just a muscle spasm,” Ben said, guiding me to a milk crate.
“It really hurts,” I said, sitting down on the crate.
“It’s tension. You need to relax.”
It was true. I was exhausted from seven consecutive days of waitressing, early mornings covering for Liz, and squeezing in lacrosse practice whenever I could, which had only been twice. My plan was working. I’d only been waitressing for a week, and I’d already made a thousand dollars—but as another flash of pain struck, I knew it was time for a break.
“I got ya,” Ben said, pulling up another milk crate and sitting behind me. “Let go of your shoulder.”
“I can’t.” I was afraid if I let go, the pain would spread.
“Breathe with me.”
I took a deep breath in and he rested his callused guitar hands on my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into my neck. We breathed together a few times.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh.” The pain changed color, broke apart. I risked turning my head. “Ouch!”
“Just focus on what’s right in front of you.”
“Mayonnaise,” I said, looking up at a wall of industrial-size jars of condiments. Ben laughed, and I could feel it in his hands as he continued to knead my shoulders.
“How’s it now?”
“Still pretty bad,” I said. Even though the pain had dissipated, I didn’t want him to stop.
“I know what you need. You
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