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“Sorry.” The woman smiles sweetly. “I just needed to pee, or I’ll get a UTI.”
“What?”
“You know, after you have sex, you need to pee, or you’ll get a UTI.”
I walk away and straight to Flynn’s bedroom, banging on the door with a vengeance until I open it myself. The room reeks of sex and testosterone. He sees me, ignores my presence, and closes his eyes.
“Are you kidding me with all this right now?”
His eyes open, tired and uninterested in what I have to say. “Just because you ain’t getting any doesn’t mean everyone else has to suffer.”
“How do you know I’m not getting any? Not that this is about me.” I shake my head, confused by how the conversation turned. “You can’t bring random girls to our place. And why didn’t you tell me you speak to Mama every day?”
“Because it’s none of your fucking business.”
I raise my finger, pointing it with anger. “You know, this emo phase is so 2002. As for the women, they better not steal any of my shit…” I turn to leave, but fling the words back over my shoulder, “Oh… and use protection!”
It feels like Flynn is a lost cause. I’ve failed at being a good big sister. The more time I spend with him alone, the more respect I have for Mama. With that thought in mind, I lock myself in the bathroom for an hour and decide to use my day off to hit the beach. I need out of here and time to process my lingering anger toward my own flesh and blood of a brother.
Back in my room, I gather my things into a beach bag, careful not to forget the sunscreen since I’m known for turning into a lobster. My cell vibrates on the bed, perfect timing since I almost forgot to pack it. There’s a text from Wesley, the first time I’ve heard from him in five days.
Wesley: Did you know there are 10 alligators to every human in Louisiana?
My lips curve upward in a smile, but I’m quick to stop it as if he can see me, and I don’t want him to think a simple message will bring me so much joy. I can respond instantly, fall at the mercy of his charm, but instead, I hop in my car and crank up Alanis Morissette and channel some angry-girl music in hopes it will give me much-needed strength.
I settle on hitting Venice Beach, a popular tourist destination with so much to see and quirky entertainment right on the boardwalk. I welcome the bustling atmosphere, my thoughts need a good distraction and less time to ponder and think.
There is a group of young performers doing some dance that I watch for half an hour until it ends. The performers walk around the crowd, requesting a donation be given. I threw in a five—the young guy thanking then asking me for a date at the same time.
Despite the large crowds and busy sights to take in, my mind struggles to rid itself of the unanswered text that sits in my inbox. As if the cell gods are talking to me, it rings in my purse as I fumble for it in a mad rush to answer, only to be greeted by Emerson.
“Hey, a friend and I are heading to the beach. Do you wanna come with?”
“Actually, I’m kinda at the beach already.”
“Even better. We’ll come to you.”
I give her exact directions where I’ll be waiting, deciding to walk further to a less busy part of the beach wher
e Emerson won’t be photographed. She’s quick to let me know she’ll be here soon and what she’ll be wearing since she wants to go unnoticed. Twenty minutes later, the sunflower hat that looks like it belongs in the nineties is right in front of me.
“Wow, you weren’t wrong when you said it was ugly.” I laugh, curious as to who would design a large straw hat with sunflowers all over it, and wait… are those ladybugs?
“If ugly were a person, even it would be offended. It’s the most hideous thing ever. My mom found it at a yard sale and bought it for Halloween one year. I wasn’t sure who she was supposed to be, though. Anyway, I look like a tourist, so no one will pay attention to me.”
The friend standing beside Emerson is Charlie, her lawyer, the very attractive woman who sat on the right of the panel when I was being interviewed.
“You remember Charlie?” Emerson asks, motioning for us to follow her toward the sand.
“I do. Nice to see you again.”
“And you.” Charlie smiles, leaning in for a quick hug which catches me off guard. “So, did Emerson tell you this was our kid-free day? I’m so excited.”
“Oh, you have kids?” I ask, trying not to be rude but admiring her youthful skin. “You look so young and fresh.”
Charlie and Emerson laugh in unison. “I don’t feel it. Yes, three girls.”
We find a spot in an almost-secluded section, setting up our towels and laying with our view facing the ocean. The water is gentle, not the normally rough waves that crash along the shoreline.
