The Lion's Den(14)

She holds up her foot and shows us her tan woven wedges with the telltale red bottom.

“Ooh, I have those in white. And black. I think I have them in navy, too, but I don’t have tan. I need to get the tan,” Summer gushes.

Her wardrobe sure has evolved since this time last year, when she was borrowing from my limited closet. But then, she’s certainly worked for it. I swallow my vitriol. “Good thing we’re the same size.” I wink.

“Of course, I can’t wear them around John,” she whispers. “He can’t stand it when I’m taller than him.” She assesses Wendy. “You’re probably fine wearing heels because you’re so short, but you shouldn’t,” she warns, looking at me. “If you didn’t bring flats, you can borrow some.”

“I have flats. And not wearing heels for a week sounds great.”

“Good.” Summer pats my knee. Her eyes land on my wrist. “What kind is that?” She indicates my glowing smart watch.

Her appetite for material goods is voracious.

“It’s some weird German brand.” I finger the gold band. “I just thought it looked cooler than most of the ones out there that I see.”

“I like that it’s round,” she says. “Lemme try it on.”

“It’s syncing to my body to tell me when I’m gonna get my period and stuff, so I’m not supposed to put it on other people,” I demur.

“Weird,” she says. “What else does it do?”

“It tracks my sleep. I’m not sure what else. I just got it.”

“You’ve gotta give me the name. I want one.”

“It’s not quite as nice as yours.” I indicate her Rolex. “And that ring is fabulous.”

“Thanks.” She admires the sparkling yellow stone in the light. “It’s a canary diamond. It’s worth, like, two million, if you can believe it.”

Two million dollars for a ring? Sweet Jesus, I can think of so many better uses for two million dollars than as a finger decoration.

I have exactly $794 in my bank account. Plus eighteen hundred in cash in my freezer, but that’s for rent, due the day after we get back. I don’t even have a credit card. I just recently paid off the ten thousand in debt I ran up to buy a car and put down a deposit on an apartment, and I don’t want to have the temptation of digging that particular hole again.

Wendy gazes at the bauble, transfixed. “It’s gorgeous.” Her tummy rumbles. “Sorry. I’m starving!”

“Me too,” I say.

“Oh, you guys didn’t get any Danishes up here?” Summer asks.

“No,” Brittani chimes in. “Why? You have some? I’m starving.”

“We had a whole basket,” Summer says, “but we ate them all. You guys were supposed to have some up here.” She flags down the younger flight attendant. “Are there any more Danishes?”

The girl shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“But wasn’t there a basket for up here?” Summer cocks her head.

“There was, but that was the second basket I gave you,” she says.

“You ate two baskets? Piggy!” Brittani exclaims.

“There should be more,” Summer insists, ignoring Brittani.

The stewardess nods. “Yes, ma’am. Will you be needing anything else?”

“A double latte with coconut milk and agave.”

“Wait, you got lattes on here, too?” Brittani asks. “I’ll take what she’s having.”

The gray-haired stewardess approaches, having finished reconfiguring the beds into chairs. “Please return to your seats for landing.”

“Just make the one latte, please,” Summer instructs with a roll of her eyes. “Brittani can have a sip of mine.”

“Thanks, sis.” Brittani’s tone drips with sarcasm.

“Brittani!” Rhonda chides. “Be grateful to your sister for bringing you here.”

“She knows I’m kidding. God!”

Before I can return to my seat, Summer grabs my elbow. “Sit with me.” She pats the forward-facing seat next to her at the table.

I slide into the seat beside her and buckle my seat belt, wondering whether I’ve already gotten myself in trouble. But maybe, I reproach myself, she’s just trying to be nice.

Summer watches the flight attendants chatting at the front of the plane. “I got rid of the pretty ones,” she whispers.

I never would have noticed if she hadn’t said anything, but indeed the stewardesses are plain, made only more so by their dowdy uniforms. But I can understand her reasoning. John did pick her up on a jet.

When I don’t answer right away, she continues. “Sorry John can be a little controlling,” she confides. “But he’s hardly gonna be around. He’ll be working most of the time.”

“All good.”

“It’ll be just like old times, only now I have a yacht.” She flashes me a grin, and I see a flicker of my old friend, the girl I shared secrets with before the diamonds and the deceit. “Ooh, look.” She points out the window, at a strip of road perched atop a mountain overlooking the sea.

“Is that where we’re landing?” I ask, alarmed.

She laughs. “Don’t worry. We do it all the time.”