your soul.” A veil of sadness covers his eyes.
“I guess so.” I sigh and gaze out the window at the Nantucket Sound. Shallow waves crisscross in the ocean, signaling that the wind has picked up. “It’s just that he should’ve talked to me. I had no idea he was unhappy.” I close my eyes. “Or maybe I did.”
I wait to hear Belmont’s response, but he remains silent. I face him. He’s looking straight ahead and obviously has something heavy on his mind.
“How well do you know Maya?” I suddenly blurt out.
“I don’t know her that well,” he says defensively. “Met her a couple of times.”
“Where?”
“Vegas.”
“Did you have sex with her?” I ask. I know Maya well, and I saw the answer to my question in her eyes. I just want him to tell me I’m wrong.
Belmont squirms. “Once, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”
I want to cry. My sinuses swell, and tears are asking permission to roll. I clear my throat and swallow the condensation.
“I’m sorry if I just hurt you, babe. It meant nothing, really.”
“Who came on to whom?” It’s a crazy question, but I need to know.
“She came on to me,” he says to my relief. He takes my limp hand. “Daisy, I didn’t know she was the friend you were talking about. I think she’s capable of doing what she did, but you and her in the same circle?” He shakes his head. “I would’ve never guessed it.”
“Why not?” I wrinkle my eyebrows.
“She’s into a lot of shit.”
“Like what?”
He tenses, reluctant to answer. “You should ask her.”
“Like she’ll tell me…”
“She probably won’t. I hate what she did to you. I’m not surprised. But she should tell you about it, not me.”
“I remember she used to go to Vegas every weekend. She said she was seeing someone there. Was it you?”
“Hell no!” He lets out a long sigh. “Are we done talking about her? If I could take it back, I would. Especially if I knew I would meet you one day.”
“Did you enjoy it–being with her?” I ask squeamishly.
“Nope.”
“You’re just saying that,” I mutter.
“Daisy…” He glances at me. “I’ll tell you the truth. If I had liked fucking her even a little, I would say so. I can give you the reasons why I didn’t.” He says that like he’s waiting for a response.
I’m too curious to pass on the offer. “Sure, I want to hear it.”
“You’re tight; she’s not. Chicks like her have this bone right here”—he pushes down on my pelvis—“that sticks you like a needle.”
“All right.” I throw up my hands. “I know I asked for it. I got it. No need to explain any further.” I guess that was too much information.
“Are you sure?” He grins. “Because I have a lot more reasons.”
“I’m sure you do.”
We laugh.
He’s still staring straight ahead. There’s something satisfying about the conversation we just had; it makes me feel a lot better.
Belmont reaches over to stroke my thigh, and that’s where he leaves his hand.
Oak Bluffs has an “Old Town” feel to it. It’s quaint and cute but built for amusement. It hits us by surprise. One moment we’re driving up Sea View Avenue, flanked by a pond on one side and a pristine ocean on the other, and then suddenly our attention is captured by a wide landscape of plush green grass. All the pathways cutting through Ocean Park lead to a white, wood gazebo.
Today, a wedding is taking place on the lawn. The guests are focused on the bride and groom, who are saying their “I do’s” under the shade of the gazebo. The wind lifts the hem of her dress. She doesn’t look too comfortable as she holds her floral headpiece in place with one hand. I bet she never predicted the uptick in the wind. That’s the thing about the east coast; the weather can change like that. In L.A., ninety-nine percent of the time, the weather you wake up with is the same weather you go to bed with.
Belmont drives past the Oak Bluffs police
“I guess so.” I sigh and gaze out the window at the Nantucket Sound. Shallow waves crisscross in the ocean, signaling that the wind has picked up. “It’s just that he should’ve talked to me. I had no idea he was unhappy.” I close my eyes. “Or maybe I did.”
I wait to hear Belmont’s response, but he remains silent. I face him. He’s looking straight ahead and obviously has something heavy on his mind.
“How well do you know Maya?” I suddenly blurt out.
“I don’t know her that well,” he says defensively. “Met her a couple of times.”
“Where?”
“Vegas.”
“Did you have sex with her?” I ask. I know Maya well, and I saw the answer to my question in her eyes. I just want him to tell me I’m wrong.
Belmont squirms. “Once, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”
I want to cry. My sinuses swell, and tears are asking permission to roll. I clear my throat and swallow the condensation.
“I’m sorry if I just hurt you, babe. It meant nothing, really.”
“Who came on to whom?” It’s a crazy question, but I need to know.
“She came on to me,” he says to my relief. He takes my limp hand. “Daisy, I didn’t know she was the friend you were talking about. I think she’s capable of doing what she did, but you and her in the same circle?” He shakes his head. “I would’ve never guessed it.”
“Why not?” I wrinkle my eyebrows.
“She’s into a lot of shit.”
“Like what?”
He tenses, reluctant to answer. “You should ask her.”
“Like she’ll tell me…”
“She probably won’t. I hate what she did to you. I’m not surprised. But she should tell you about it, not me.”
“I remember she used to go to Vegas every weekend. She said she was seeing someone there. Was it you?”
“Hell no!” He lets out a long sigh. “Are we done talking about her? If I could take it back, I would. Especially if I knew I would meet you one day.”
“Did you enjoy it–being with her?” I ask squeamishly.
“Nope.”
“You’re just saying that,” I mutter.
“Daisy…” He glances at me. “I’ll tell you the truth. If I had liked fucking her even a little, I would say so. I can give you the reasons why I didn’t.” He says that like he’s waiting for a response.
I’m too curious to pass on the offer. “Sure, I want to hear it.”
“You’re tight; she’s not. Chicks like her have this bone right here”—he pushes down on my pelvis—“that sticks you like a needle.”
“All right.” I throw up my hands. “I know I asked for it. I got it. No need to explain any further.” I guess that was too much information.
“Are you sure?” He grins. “Because I have a lot more reasons.”
“I’m sure you do.”
We laugh.
He’s still staring straight ahead. There’s something satisfying about the conversation we just had; it makes me feel a lot better.
Belmont reaches over to stroke my thigh, and that’s where he leaves his hand.
Oak Bluffs has an “Old Town” feel to it. It’s quaint and cute but built for amusement. It hits us by surprise. One moment we’re driving up Sea View Avenue, flanked by a pond on one side and a pristine ocean on the other, and then suddenly our attention is captured by a wide landscape of plush green grass. All the pathways cutting through Ocean Park lead to a white, wood gazebo.
Today, a wedding is taking place on the lawn. The guests are focused on the bride and groom, who are saying their “I do’s” under the shade of the gazebo. The wind lifts the hem of her dress. She doesn’t look too comfortable as she holds her floral headpiece in place with one hand. I bet she never predicted the uptick in the wind. That’s the thing about the east coast; the weather can change like that. In L.A., ninety-nine percent of the time, the weather you wake up with is the same weather you go to bed with.
Belmont drives past the Oak Bluffs police
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