The High Season(74)

She walked around to check on the patio. Lucas stood at the edge, his back to her, one hand gesticulating as he yelled into the phone. He was barefoot, dressed in shorts and a yellow button-down, shirttail flapping in the still-brisk breeze.

“I don’t care, dude. I’m good for it, I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m trapped! I’m lucky to have cell service out here. I can get it in exactly one fucking spot, and let me tell you, the view is getting boring.”

    Lucas turned and saw her, and shrugged, making a comical face. He said “Later” into the phone and put it in his shirt pocket.

She noticed a cut near his eye, which had a bruise darkening into purple. “You okay?”

He winced and touched his face. “I drank a bottle of wine and passed out. But first I walked into a wall. You wouldn’t have a power saw on you, would you?”

“The causeway has been breached. There’s nowhere to go, anyway.”

“Terrific. This place is motherfucking hell. Aren’t you sick of being trapped yet?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

It was like being in an unfamiliar house, in the darkness, and suddenly coming upon another person, and feeling your heart beat fast with alarm. But it was only you, the glint of you in a dark mirror.

She held up her keys and shook them. “Shall we take a look inside those boxes again?” she asked, and Lucas smiled.





46


“I WONDER WHY they call August the dog days of summer,” Shari said. “It’s not like dogs are hotter than we are.”

Doe heard the sentence as noise. She didn’t bother to answer. Much of Shari’s conversation consisted of asking questions without answers. The woman needed to discover Google.

“Look, if you’re not going to talk to me, then forget it,” Shari said.

Doe took out one earbud. “What?”

“Do you want breakfast or anything, I said.”

“No.” Doe put the earbud back in. It had been like this since Shari moved in three weeks ago. Her mother would say something, Doe would take out one earbud, say “What?,” respond to whatever it was, and put the earbud back in. You’d think Shari would get tired of talking. But not her mother, who would no doubt chat her way through the apocalypse.

Weeks of texts at work like Is this a good interview skirt? and I think the guy at the gas station likes me and What is there to do here and So, when am I going to meet your girlfriend.

It was August, and there were no jobs, because everyone had been hired and in September would be laid off. As usual Shari expected things to go her way when they clearly would not. She continued to pretend she was looking, but Doe had her doubts that putting on heels and a skirt while making phone calls was a workable strategy. Shari’s dreams of a job as a concierge were ridiculous. She had no experience, first of all, and she hardly had the personality. You had to be unflappable and discreet, two qualities no one would ever associate with her mother. Yet every time Doe pointed this out, Shari accused her of not believing in her mother.

    She needed to get Shari back to Florida. Shari said she didn’t have money for a deposit on a place, and she was afraid to live in the same city as Ron. It hadn’t occurred to Shari before Ron broke her nose that a man with a mysterious access to cash and a tendency to buy ten flat-screen TVs at a time was not a good bet for a boyfriend.

Doe felt somewhat responsible, that was the trouble. Shari had met Ron through her. He’d been the big tipper at the pool, the guy who sat with his laptop every Tuesday and said he was in real estate (which was somewhat true, it turned out), the guy who said he’d grown up with Johnny Depp (which was totally not true), the guy who gave her a gift certificate to Joe’s Stone Crabs for her birthday, the guy who gave her a ride home one day and said “Who’s that?” when he saw Shari.

Doe should have known but she didn’t. Her boyfriend the bartender was Ron’s partner. He had the swipe machine in his pocket, and when she brought the credit cards he turned his back and did his thing while she looked around at the tables, making sure everybody had their mai tais and mojitos. While the bartender swiped, Ron was picking up the numbers on his laptop. Within a few hours Ron had sold the numbers to someone else.

At least when she got fired the manager said he wouldn’t call the police on her, but she had to go. She never saw the boyfriend again, but Ron was home with Shari when she got there.

Shari told her Ron had confessed everything and said that he was going straight. Shari said Ron was going into commercial real estate full-time with his friend Trevor, who owned a motel and a strip mall. Ron just needed a stake, that’s why he got into the whole identity theft business. Ron felt terrible about what had happened to Doe. Ron had asked Shari to move in with him. Shari felt this was a good idea.

    “I’m going to make waffles,” Shari said now at the window. “Oh, goodness, look at Kimmie, she’s got a whole basket of zucchini! Do you know about sneaking zucchini on porches today?”

“Yes,” Doe said. “It’s stupid.”

“I think it’s fun. Everybody’s sick of zucchini by August, right? Do you want to go to the softball game with me? Zukes against Cukes! Kimmie invited me.” Shari had charmed Kim and Tim, who were suddenly friendlier, or maybe it was because Doe was finally paying full summer rent.