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Putting on a smile I don’t feel, I say, “Thank you, Lizard. It’s beautiful.”
“Do you really like it?” she asks.
“I do.”
“Good. I have a buyer for your car,” Liz informs me.
“I’d like to keep it,” I tell her.
“Alright. If you change your mind, you can tell him yourself,” she says.
“Why? Who is it?”
“Dean Cooper. I know he likes old cars, so I got his number from your phone yesterday and texted him.”
“Did he know you were getting me this car?” I ask.
Liz nods. “Yup. Glad he’s good at keeping secrets.”
“Should we take her for a little spin?” Sheridan asks, hopping into the backseat.
“Yeah, sure.”
We take off down Duval Street. I’d be lying if I said this car isn’t pure butter over hard muscle, then blended with just a hint of modern air conditioning and fancy displays. But I don’t want to love it. It feels like some sort of betrayal every time I step on that pedal, making the engine roar until I have to hold onto the steering wheel to rein it in.
The girls giggle as we drive, pointing to all the interesting things and even more interesting people we see on our tour. They admire the old Key West houses with their airy porches, the gargantuan Banyan trees and street chickens, while I think of my car sitting at home all lonely. It’s not falling apart as Reese said. Sure, it needs a little work, but overall it’s a good car. A classic. This is something I likened to myself on more than one occasion. Turning my back on it and replacing it with a new one is almost like saying that I am broken, too.
And having someone else pay for it because they think I can’t do it on my own is the icing on that depressed cake.
Sticky sweat covers my body, making my pajamas cling to my skin. Women with large breasts always talk about boob sweat and how hard it is. Well, let me tell you, small breasts, large breasts, all breasts would have a hard time this close to the equator with no bra. If only I’d known that we’d be gone half the day, I would have at the very least put on a sports bra.
I guess all four of us felt the same way, because we all shoved our way into the hotel room as soon as we got back. Being the strongest, most agile of the bunch, one would think I’d have gotten first dibs on the bathroom. But brawn doesn’t always win over brains.
“I call first shower!” Reese yells out.
Us older women stop, not knowing what to do with that. It was almost as if those four little words had enough power to freeze time. Then, the other smarty-pants opens her mouth.
“I call second,” Liz says.
Sher and I look at each other. Never in a million years would I have expected what followed next. It surprises me so thoroughly I don’t react fast enough.
Sheridan’s hand covers my mouth and the entirety of her body weight is shoved against me until we land on the bed.
“I call third!” she yells.
“It’s my birthday!” I complain, shoving her off.
“And because of that I’d like to smell my best,” she says, making herself feel better.
That’s how I end up in the bathroom over an hour later. “Bitches,” I say to myself as I finally wash the itchy grime off. And I take my time, too.
I’d left my phone on the counter, and the first thing I do when I step out of the shower is check it. There are several messages wishing me a great day, including a few birthday wish videos from Winn and Aunt Jackie. But nothing from Dean.
We were given the day off today. It had nothing to do with my birthday. Today is a day meant to relax and enjoy ourselves before the big challenge. Well, I don’t feel relaxed. Tired and stressed, yes.
It certainly doesn’t help that I keep wondering what Dean is up to. Did he go to the beach? Is he down by the pool? Will I get to see him at all today?
As much as I’d like to, I can’t see him for lunch. I’m heading to dinner with the girls for a light celebration, then to bed as early as I can muster. Tomorrow is too important.
