Right girl wrong side, p.11
Right Girl, Wrong Side, page 11
Everyone laughed, then Kendra said, “I’ll bet it’s excellent too.”
“It is excellent.” Eunice snuggled into the crook of Robby’s arm on the other sofa, holding her dessert plate. “And this one’s going to sell. I feel it.”
“From your lips to God’s ears—” he joked.
The rest of them chuckled warmly.
“I’m sure your wife is right.” Evita’s mom winked at Eunice. “She knows her film.”
Eunice nodded and took a bite of cake. “Yes, I do. Mmm. Yummy.”
Chachi held hands with Kendra. He’d pushed two of the armchairs together facing the screen. “Why don’t we watch something actiony?”
“I heard you were getting some action in the outdoor shower today,” Robby teased.
Chachi lobbed a pillow at him, and they all laughed again.
Kendra’s color deepened. “It was not nearly as bad as Mrs. Hatfield made it out to be.”
“I’m sure that it wasn’t.” Evita’s mom rolled her eyes. “Daneen exaggerates things.” She brightened, staring at the television screen and apparently getting an idea. “How about A Walk in the Clouds?”
“That’s a good pick,” Evita’s dad said. The rest of them groaned.
Evita was sure her family had seen that movie two dozen times, but her parents never tired of it. “Maybe we can find something new?” Kendra held out the remote, and Robby reached for it, flipping through more options.
But after nearly an hour of viewing multiple trailers and arguing over choices, they settled for their old standby. It was either that or call it a night.
“I’ve always loved this movie.” Their mom sighed, and Chachi chuckled.
“Yes, yes. We know.”
Kendra watched the credits roll. “I’ve always loved Keanu Reeves.”
Evita laughed, adoring her family. “Same.”
***
Ryan was glad to have some alone time to process his emotions and also be away from Evita’s penetrating gaze. She had a way of seeing through him, all the way straight to his heart. He’d put his high school crush on her aside long ago but had found himself dwelling on it a lot lately. He liked the same things about her now as he did then. Her laugh. Her smile. Those amazing dimples. And the cute way she liked to banter with him. She’d never been afraid of authority and had sometimes even challenged their teachers when she’d believed them to be misinformed or wrong. The grip her parents had on her was different though.
Like he was one to talk. Twenty-eight years old—and PhD proud—and he still hadn’t stood up to his folks. He was getting better at it though. Working his way up to a full-fledged—what? Not a confrontation, no. He wasn’t a huge fan of those. It was more like a confident assertion. He burned to tell his parents to respect his choices about his job and his dating life too. His mom was more intrusive, but his dad’s silence on many matters made him complicit.
He’d dated his share of women and found many of them intriguing, but none of them had clicked with him in a way that spelled commitment. He’d gotten a kick out of Evita rolling her eyes about Layla Petroski. Layla had been pretty high maintenance when he thought about it. And Jocelyn Sutton? No. Just no. He couldn’t see it. Besides which, he wasn’t about to have his girlfriends picked out for him by his mom. Even though she’d tried plenty.
He shut the pocket doors to his assigned space and pulled out the sofa bed. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was cozy enough. Just weird being on the other side of the room from Evita’s brother and sister-in-law. Still, Chachi seemed all right. He’d helped them out by giving them that tip earlier about going into the house one at a time. Seeing as how the whole Machado clan was gathered inside, that had been good advice.
Ryan slid a few pillows behind him and switched on a nearby lamp. He selected the music app on his phone and popped in his earbuds, bringing up the scholarly journal he intended to read. He tried to get into the content, but his mind kept flitting back to thoughts of Evita in the moonlight, then earlier on the beach and on the deck after her shower. Before that, during that unexpected moment when he’d first stumbled across her at the cottage. She’d been so surprised to see him and he’d been stunned to see her. But once they’d begun working together, they’d become a unified team.
Just like they’d been in chem class when they’d aced all of their exams together. Ryan hadn’t found chemistry particularly interesting, but he had been invested in Evita and impressing her. That’s why he worked so hard to get one of the top grades in the class. She’d gotten the other one, and probably could have gone in a number of directions with her life. He supposed, he could have too. He stared down at his e-reader, realizing he’d perused the first page of his article five or six times. This was no good. It was too hard to concentrate on something this dry with thoughts of Evita bombarding his brain. There was a new suspense novel he’d heard about that had gotten raves. Maybe he’d download that to read instead.
But when he went online, one of his bookmarks stared him in the face. It was the one to the job application at Wellesley. While Evita had appreciated who he was as a guy back in high school, would she him value him more now as a man if he got a plum job like that? His mom would be ecstatic. Maybe so ecstatic she’d lay off about other things. Like his dating choices?
At the very least, she’d stop hassling him about his job, and maybe—for once in her life—would actually act proud of him. Pain seared through his chest because he wished he didn’t care what his parents thought. He was his own man and free to make his own choices. Still, a little bit of acknowledgement would have been nice. He scanned through the position description, realizing he actually was qualified for this one. He wanted to buy that farmhouse, and this paid more money than his community college job ever could. But no. His applying to Wellesley might appease his mom, but he’d only be betraying himself.
Ryan closed the window on the job posting, going to his favorite online bookstore instead. He purchased the murder mystery he was after and downloaded it to his e-reader. The opening scene was intense, sucking him into the story. Then another clue unfolded and another, with an array of suspects lining up. When he paused to check the time, nearly three hours had gone by. He rubbed his neck and yawned. He should probably get some shut-eye. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Hopefully not more beach wars over bent umbrellas. When this week was finally over, maybe both families would look back on it and laugh. Or maybe not.
He removed his earbuds and grabbed his toothpaste, floss, and toothbrush, tiptoeing to the door. Wait. He thought he heard something, but no. Chachi and Kendra were probably already in bed fast asleep. They’d said it was okay for him to pass through their part of the room after knocking, but he hated the idea of waking them. He knocked very softly but didn’t hear anything, so he slid the door open a smidge.
Bed springs squeaked and the headboard thudded against the wall.
He quickly shut the door. Oh boy.
The noises stopped. “Chachi?” Kendra whispered hoarsely. “Did you hear something?”
“No, shh. Shh! Ryan’s sleeping.”
He grimaced and scrambled for his earbuds, popping them back in. Then he cranked up his music, deciding to finish that novel.
Eight
When Evita went out on the deck the next morning, the Hatfields were already there having breakfast at their picnic table. “What a beautiful day,” she heard Mrs. Hatfield say. “So peaceful out here.”
Ryan rubbed his eyes, looking sleepy. He had to have slept better than she had, between the baby crying half the night and Robby’s snoring the other.
Evita sent him a tired smile over the rim of her coffee mug, and he smiled back. Somehow the two of them would fix this. Their families couldn’t stay at odds all week. That would take too much emotional energy.
Evita sat in a chair near the firepit, staring up at the brilliant blue sky. Puffy white clouds dotted the horizon and gulls soared through the air. Down at the beach, sea terns swooped into the waves and sandpipers hopped along the shore, plunging their beaks into the wet sand. Her loose peasant top fluttered in the breeze, and sunlight warmed her face. She’d change out of her shorts and into her swimsuit in a bit, but for now this felt great.
Her dad exited the house carrying the large portable speaker that had sat on a charger in the kitchen. It was connected to some kind of high-tech sound system with voice recognition software built in and accessed all sorts of music streaming services through an app he’d downloaded to his phone. Several other speakers in the house could be paired with it, or it could be used alone.
He was prepared for a day on the beach in swim trunks, a tropical shirt, hat, and sunglasses, but he set his music player beside a lounge chair on the deck like he was setting up shop there. “Morning!” he said pleasantly all around.
Evita was extremely proud of him. Just look at how he graciously tipped his hat at the Hatfields. He held a chilled drink in his hand that looked like iced coffee.
“Good morning, Pablo,” Mrs. Hatfield said stiffly. She cast her gaze over the short speaker tower with a suspicious gleam.
Mr. Hatfield nodded cordially, and Ryan’s eyebrows shot up.
He had to be thinking what Evita was.
Progress. Yay! At least they were talking and not shouting at one another.
Her dad sat back in his chair and sighed. “Ah, beautiful.” He inhaled the ocean breeze, then took a sip from his straw before giving a command.
“Delilah, play Latin Music Combo from Tuneify.”
An electronic voice boomed, “Playing Latin Music Combo from Tuneify!”
Loud Latin music blared from the speaker, and the Hatfields jumped.
Maddy stared at her folks. “That’s really great sound.”
Evita’s dad overheard her. “It’s wonderful, yes? My cousin’s in this band.” Trumpets blared and maracas shook to the tempo kept by trilling guitars and pounding drums. Then the volume hiked up.
Music poured over the deck and washed out to sea, sailing up into the clouds.
Mrs. Hatfield’s mouth fell open, and she lowered her sunglasses.
Evita’s dad waved at her, not taking the hint. Or maybe he did and chose to play oblivious. He relaxed in his lounge chair and angled down his hat.
Evita had been enjoying the quiet too, but she didn’t mind the more upbeat vibe, which was lively and fun. The Hatfields minded though. A lot.
Mrs. Hatfield nudged her husband, and he stood awkwardly.
He walked across the deck in his slacks and Tommy Bahama shirt.
Ryan shot Evita a wide-eyed gaze, and she nodded. This spelled trouble. They both knew it. The calm before the storm.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Hatfield said to her dad. “Would you mind turning that off?”
Her dad placed a hand behind his ear like he couldn’t hear him. “Sorry?”
Mr. Hatfield pointed to the speaker.
“Oh, sure, sure. Up?” Her dad feigned misunderstanding. “Of course.” He tapped four times on a lighted icon on top of the tower, cranking the music louder. Evita massaged her temples. He was clearly doing this on purpose. Her dad. And just when she thought the two families were starting to find some common ground.
Mr. Hatfield play-plugged his ears. “Pablo, please! A little peace and quiet here?”
“Peace and quiet?” Her dad sat up in his seat and spoke above the music. “We’re on vacation, Kirk.”
“Exactly!”
“So this is relaxing.”
Mr. Hatfield scowled. “Well, it’s not relaxing to us. Please turn that off.”
“Up?” her dad teased again. He started to crank the volume higher, but Mr. Hatfield commanded loudly. “Delilah! Music off!”
A hush fell over the deck. They could have heard a pin drop.
Evita’s pulse raced. This was not good.
Evita’s dad scowled and adjusted his sunglasses. “Delilah! Resume!”
Ryan got to his feet. Evita did too.
“Delilah off!” Mr. Hatfield shouted. Silence ensued. He frowned at Evita’s dad. “A little consideration, Pablo? This beach house is not just occupied by you.”
“Consideration?” her dad said. “How’s this for consideration? This is my favorite kind of music. And news flash, Kirk! It’s my vacation too.” He snatched away the speaker when Mr. Hatfield grabbed for it, holding it out of reach. “Delilah. Music on!”
Mr. Hatfield huffed, his face tomato red. “Delilah. Off!”
Her dad hugged the machine to his chest and whispered. “Delilah. On.”
“Argh!” Mr. Hatfield lunged at him, wrestling away the speaker.
“Dad, stop!” Ryan said. “You’re going to break it!”
“Give that back!” Evita’s dad said.
“No, Pablo! Aha!” Mr. Hatfield found the kill switch on rear of the tower and silenced the machine. He reluctantly returned it to Evita’s dad. “Now. Let’s be sensible about this and enjoy the sunshine—and the breeze.”
Her dad’s mustache twitched. He held the tower in front of him, positioning his finger above the on button on the back of the tower.
Evita stepped forward. “Dad! Please!”
“What, Evita?” he said like nothing had happened. “I’m just enjoying my music.”
“Yeah, but maybe the Hatfields—”
“Don’t get to say how I have fun.” He stubbornly set his chin, and Evita sighed.
“Por favor.” She almost never spoke Spanish, and when she did, he claimed it melted his heart. Her eyebrows rose. “Just until they go down to the beach?”
He sighed, beholding his daughter. His eyes glimmered sadly. “As you wish.” He set the speaker tower on the deck beside him. He sat back in his lounge chair and crossed his arms, like he was not fine at all. Then he grumbled, “Grouchy gringos.”
“Dad,” Evita cautioned. “Shh.”
Mr. Hatfield returned to their picnic table, and Mrs. Hatfield let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well. Isn’t this better?”
Evita’s dad’s hand settled on the back of the speaker tower, but Evita pushed it away.
Ryan’s mom stretched out her arms, lacing her fingers together. “Nothing but the sound of the waves and the gulls. Absolute tranquility.”
Luisa wailed upstairs, her staccato cries escaping from the ocean-facing doors above them. Robby and Eunice’s room had its own small balcony like Chachi and Kendra’s suite.
“I can’t believe she’s hungry again,” Eunice said wearily. The child yelped louder. “What am I? A nonstop feeding machine?”
“You know I’d help if I could,” Robby said.
“But you can’t,” Eunice answered tersely. “Remember?”
“That is so unfair. I didn’t forget to pack it on purpose!”
“No? Maybe you wanted a break?”
“You’re just tired and cranky.”
“I am. Not! Tired! And cranky!”
The double doors upstairs slammed shut, while the rest of them tried to pretend they hadn’t overheard the argument. Being new parents had to be rough. Extra rough. Especially when you traveled. Evita understood that Robby was worn thin from being a stay-at-home dad while trying to write and that Eunice had burnt herself out by dividing her time between the studio and her new family. Things would improve once they all got more sleep. Or Luisa got older. Whichever came first.
“Um.” Ryan shifted on his feet. “How about we head down to the beach soon?” he suggested to his folks and Maddy. “I can set up the umbrella for everyone. Chairs too.”
“That sounds lovely, Ryan,” his mom said. “I’m ready for a change of scenery.” She pulled a face as the baby cried and Eunice’s and Robby’s voices rose behind the closed doors. “Aren’t you, Kirk?”
“I’ll go change into my swim trunks.” He glanced at Maddy.
She had a canvas bag with her. “Whatever,” she said, not sounding thrilled about it.
Ryan frowned. “Right. I’ll just grab our things from the storage closet.”
He passed Evita when she was on her way into the house.
“Psst,” he whispered, his back turned to the others. “Want to sneak out for coffee?”
She giggled at the twinkle in his light-brown eyes. Oh man, that sounded good. “What? Now?” Truth was she was very ready to get out of here and away from all the tension. But could they really get away without being noticed? Her pulse fluttered. It was definitely worth a try.
“Meet you around the front of the house in ten?”
“Okay.”
***
Evita crouched low as she scurried toward the sandy plain where their vehicles were parked, but Ryan motioned her toward a free-standing shed. She blinked at him in surprise. “What’s in there?”
He worked the padlock combination. “Bicycles.”
“Awesome.” It was such a pretty day, and she hadn’t been on a bike in years. Plus it meant they’d be much quieter getting away than in a car.
They located two old-fashioned looking ones with high handlebars and baskets in front. The other two were little kids’ bikes. One had training wheels. “These look like they’ve been here for ages,” she said.
He studied the frames of both bikes. “But they’re still in decent shape.” He squeezed their front and back tires. “Hang on. Let me add some air.” He located a bicycle pump in the shed, and Evita shielded herself from the cottage with the open shed door.
“What did you say to your folks?” she asked as he worked. She held in a giggle, feeling as sneaky as she had in high school, when they’d ventured off campus.
“I said I wanted to rest. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
She started to laugh, then stopped herself. Maybe he was serious. Her forehead rose. “Didn’t you?”
He gave an embarrassed flush. “No. It was…uh, noisy.”
“Noisy?” She cupped a hand to her mouth, getting it. “Kendra and Chachi? Oh my gosh.”
