Right girl wrong side, p.8
Right Girl, Wrong Side, page 8
“And I said no.”
“Okay.” Evita’s mom glanced over her shoulder at her family. “I’m done with asking politely.” She hefted the heavy beach umbrella into her arms and began carting it off.
“Querida, let me help you.” Evita’s dad set down the beach towel and stepped toward his wife. Mrs. Hatfield shot to her feet. “Kirk!” she complained. “They’re stealing our umbrella!”
“Honestly, Daneen. We weren’t exactly—”
She huffed and stomped after Lissette. “We will be using it later to shield our coolers from the sun when we bring them down for lunch.”
“Oh no you won’t,” Evita’s mom said, tugging it away. “We need this—right—now!”
Mrs. Hatfield latched on to its pole. “Give it back, Lissette.”
Evita’s mom leaned into her effort. “No way!”
Mrs. Hatfield yanked on her end, and Evita’s mom stumbled.
“Now, wait just one minute,” Evita’s dad said. He took two giant steps toward her mom and gripped the top of the umbrella. “My wife is right. We need this more than you do. Let’s be reasonable here. You all are not being fair.”
This spurred Mr. Hatfield into action. He clambered to his feet and took up his position behind Ryan’s mom, pulling the umbrella toward him. “I believe we set some ground rules.” He tugged and grimaced. “Last night.”
“Rules that can be amended,” Evita’s dad groaned, pulling harder. “When necessary.”
Mr. Hatfield gritted his teeth. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”
Ryan scrambled out of his chair and Evita raced toward them. This was not going to end well. Ryan tried to intercede. “Mom. Dad. Please. That’s enough.” But they completely ignored him, yanking harder and harder—at last gaining ground.
“Argh!” Evita’s mom growled and threw back her head. Digging her bare heels into the sand and bending her body in a sideways V with her ample butt sticking out behind her.
Her dad broke a sweat. Muscles strained in his arms. “This. Umbrella. Comes with us!”
Now the umbrella swung their way, and the Hatfields jerked forward in the sand.
Evita gawked at Ryan. “Somebody’s going to get hurt.”
“Folks! Please! Stop!” he said in commanding tones. But the tug-of-war was full-on.
“Stop fighting, Daneen!” Evita’s mom called. “Let us have what is rightly ours!”
“It was in our storage closet!” Mrs. Hatfield contested with a sharp tug.
“But I.” Yank. Yank. “Technically won the week!”
“No.” Tug. Tug. “We settled that!”
Maddy sat on her side with her eyes closed like she was meditating, or trying to drown everything out. “I’m going for a walk,” she said suddenly, standing.
Her combative parents didn’t seem to notice.
“Give us that umbrella,” Evita’s folks said.
“Nothing doing! It’s ours!”
Evita’s dad lowered his eyebrows. “Not for much longer.”
“Hey!” Mr. Hatfield shouted. “It’s on our side of the beach!”
“Is it?” Evita’s mom asked with another hard yank.
This had to stop.
Evita pressed two fingers inside her mouth and blew—hard.
A shrill whistle tore down the beach, startling wandering gulls into flight.
Maddy quit walking and turned around, then she kept going, picking up her pace like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. Evita didn’t blame her. If she could have run, she might have too. But no. She had to stay here with Ryan and face the music.
Ryan blinked at her, clearly impressed by her whistle. “I forgot that you could do that.”
“Mom. Dad,” Evita said, breathless. “Please. Enough is enough!”
Ryan stared down his parents. “I could say the same of you.” He cocked his chin toward Luisa. “For crying out loud, they’ve got a baby. Give them the umbrella.”
His mom threw up her hands. “Fine. Okay. Whatever.”
His dad let go too, and Evita’s parents lugged the umbrella to where they’d set their other belongings in the sand. Both perspired heavily. The Hatfields were flushed too.
“That was really not cool,” Ryan said under his breath to his parents.
Evita’s mom smirked. “You see. Even their son is embarrassed.”
“He’s not the only one who’s embarrassed,” Evita told her. “Gee.”
Her dad inhaled deeply. “Well, anyway. Let’s put this up.”
Robby helped him and they moaned. “This one is bent too,” her dad grumbled.
“Yeah, but not as badly as the others.” Robby pressed at the bowed frame. “Maybe we can fix it.”
Eunice strode back toward the house carrying the baby.
“Wait,” Robby said. “Where are you going?”
“I’m exhausted from all that.” Her face hung in a frown. “I think I’ll go inside and rest with Luisa.”
Chachi and Kendra came back with their kids, all dripping wet. He grabbed a beach towel off the ground. It was the nasty one. He scrunched up his face. “What? Ew.”
“Sorry, Chachi,” Robby said. He tossed him a few clean towels, and Chachi passed one to Kendra.
“Thanks!” Kendra said, dabbing at her glistening torso with a towel. She was the only one in a bikini, and she wore it super well. Evita couldn’t imagine looking like that after having two kids. She hadn’t had any and didn’t look that good now. Kendra’s glistening brown stomach was nearly flat again, with just a little rise in it below her belly button, a barely noticeable bump. “Nice going,” she said. “You got the umbrella up!”
Six
Ryan put his parents’ beach umbrella and the four folding chairs away in the storage closet. The shower beside it was occupied, and so was the one on the Machado side. His dad had gone indoors, and his mom had taken off down the beach to hunt for Maddy, who’d gone on another walk. He didn’t blame her. If he’d been able to escape the melee, he would have too. He closed the storage room door, and the Machado side shower shut off. Now that he thought about it, the shower on his side wasn’t running. Maybe someone was toweling off? For a long time. Wait. It could only be his dad, but no. His dad had gone inside.
Evita emerged across the way with her hair in damp curls and wearing her emerald-colored swimsuit with a halter top hugging her soft curves. She was a super attractive woman, so feminine and sexy in a way that made his heart pound and heat coil in his belly. She flushed and wrapped her towel around herself, covering her thighs, but not quite concealing her cleavage. He found it cute that she seemed modest now.
She hadn’t appeared self-conscious down on the beach when she’d been having a great time playing in the sand with her niece and nephew. He’d loved watching her build that sandcastle, carefully molding its turrets and then decorating them with seashells on top. “Ta-da! It’s perfect!” Quique and Nanny had giggled and started splashing her with water from the moat. She hadn’t minded. She’d splashed them right back. She’d been so happy and carefree, joking around with the kids, and they’d been captivated by her.
Ryan knew how they felt. It was hard not to become enthralled by her warm brown eyes and dazzling spirit that sparkled brighter than sunshine. Just the same way it had back in high school. He heaved a breath, still embarrassed by his parents’ behavior. “That was some scene down there.”
“With the umbrella?” She gritted her teeth. “Yeah.” She tightened her towel around her as moisture dripped from her hair, clinging to her shoulders. Each tiny droplet glimmered like a diamond in the sun.
Ryan shifted on his feet, instinctively inching closer. “Maybe that was the worst of it?”
She winced, peering up at him. “Hope so.”
He nodded. “Thanks for helping break it up.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “That took two referees.”
He laughed. “No kidding. Evita—” Oh how he wanted to tell her. What? That she was unique? Charming? The only person he couldn’t stop thinking about? No, he couldn’t do that. The week was just getting started, and they were trying to keep their families from fighting. There wasn’t time to think about them romancing each other.
Ryan swallowed hard. And he was not thinking about that. Even though she was single and available, apparently. That didn’t mean she’d want anything to do with him in that way. And what about their parents? His mom would blow a gasket.
“Hmm?”
His shoulders sagged. “It’s just been good seeing you again, that’s all.” He wanted to say more, but then he stopped himself from blubbering needlessly. “Even under the circumstances.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” She held his gaze, and for an instant he couldn’t think straight. Process anything beyond her presence and those really dark eyelashes that matched her arched eyebrows. He was caught up in her scent: the fragrance of her soap and her shampoo. The daring look in her eyes. His pulse thrummed in his ears. Then her smile blew him away.
“There you are!” his mom called.
Evita stepped back, the spell broken, as his mom came up the steps from the beach. She toted a beach chair with her. Maddy held her canvas bag and her beach chair, looking very grumpy about being found.
“Mom.” He nodded. “Mads.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks, acting like nothing had been going on. Like he hadn’t totally lost his head to the Machados’ only daughter. Thinking of her in a way that he shouldn’t have. A way that made him wonder what it would be like to hold her in his arms. Maybe even kiss her like he’d dreamed about doing once or twice in high school. Okay, more than once or twice. Lots.
“Where’s your father?”
“He went inside to shower.”
She glanced at Maddy. “You should go and grab yours in the hall bath upstairs.”
“Uh,” Evita intervened. “I believe Quique’s in there.”
Mrs. Hatfield sighed. “I suppose there’s this shower here.” She latched on to its handle.
“Wait!” Ryan called, but not in time to stop her from yanking the shower door open.
Chachi and Kendra were inside it, engaged in an amorous embrace, their slick bathing-suited bodies molded together. They bolted apart at the fresh blast of air from the outside, blinking at the intrusion.
The color drained from Ryan’s mom’s face, and Maddy pursed her lips.
“Ever hear the word knock?” Chachi asked, tugging at the waistband of his swim trunks.
“Ever hear the word decency?” His mom scoffed. “What in the world are you two doing in our shower?”
Kendra winced, and Chachi slid up the strap of her bikini top, which had slipped just a little. “Sorry.” Ryan didn’t know Kendra had this mischievous side. Chachi either. Though he suspected it more of Evita’s middle brother. “All the others were occupied.”
“Well, you’re not supposed to be in this one.” She placed her hand on Maddy’s back and shoved. “This shower is for my family.”
Maddy dug in her heels and leaned back. “Ew, Mom. No!”
“Don’t mind us!” Chachi scooted out of the shower, grabbing Kendra’s hand. “We were just leaving.”
Ryan’s mom blocked their escape. “What were you doing in our shower anyway? What’s wrong with the one in your suite?”
“My mom’s helping bathe Nanny,” Chachi said.
Mrs. Hatfield huffed. “And you couldn’t wait?”
Kendra flushed, standing closer to Chachi. “Wait for what?”
“To”—she waved her hands around in the air—“you know.”
Kendra gasped and Chachi stood upright. “We were not ‘you know,’” he said, his dark eyes glinting.
Kendra scoffed. “We were just kissing!”
“Right!” Chachi moved around Mrs. Hatfield, pulling Kendra along. “Grabbing some couple time.”
Mrs. Hatfield stared at them, incredulous. “Why out here?” She covered Maddy’s eyes, then her ears with her hands, but Maddy had already seen and heard everything. “You have a whole suite to yourselves, for goodness sakes!”
The couple gaped up at her like they’d encountered Godzilla, and Evita’s mom stepped onto the deck. “What’s going on, people? I thought I heard shouting.” Quique and Nanny were behind her, dressed in their pajamas. The sun was already going down.
Ryan’s mom spun on her. “What’s going on here is that these two love birds…” She framed the words in quotation marks with her fingers, nodding at Chachi and Kendra, “couldn’t keep their hands off of each other in our shower.”
Chachi and Kendra slunk past the moms, creeping indoors.
Maddy followed them.
“Right,” Ryan said. “We should all go back in the house.”
His mom raised her hand. “Not until we discuss this.”
“What?” Evita’s mom asked.
Ryan’s mom jutted her chin at the shower. “This violation.”
“Oh please, Daneen.”
“They were in there making out!”
“And so? They’re married.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryan lightly touched her arm. “Mom.”
Evita stepped toward her mom. “Maybe we should forget about this?”
“I wasn’t making the big deal. Daneen was.”
“Because you can’t seem to keep your hormonal family under control.”
“Hormonal?” She broke out of Evita’s grasp like she was ready to take a swing at Ryan’s mom. Evita grabbed her. “Spoken like a woman having a hot flash.”
“Hot?” Ryan’s mom turned beet red. “Unbelievable.” She cast a look at her son and then at Evita. “You two,” she instructed dogmatically. “Stay away from each other.”
“I’m sure they will,” Evita’s mom said.
Evita looked like she wanted to sink through the floorboards, and Ryan’s face steamed.
Evita tugged on her mom’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.” Before they left, Mrs. Machado sniped, “Maybe if Daneen spent more time in the shower with Kirk, she wouldn’t be so cranky.”
“I heard that, Lissette!”
Evita’s mom shut the door.
***
Ryan was glad to be sitting down to dinner with his parents because that meant this day was almost over. If only he and Evita could find a way to prevent the near-constant bickering between their moms, this week would go so much more smoothly. But it was hard to see how they could make that happen. He glanced out the kitchen window at the Machado family. They’d gathered around the firepit—on their side—and were all drinking piña coladas. Laughing and joking with one another while Nanny and Quique sat on beach towels playing handheld games.
“Thanks for cooking dinner, Mom.” He chewed on his chicken, finding it tough and difficult to swallow. He reached for his water glass, but it was empty.
“Here,” she said. “Let me refill that.” She frowned. “The chicken might be slightly overcooked.” She pressed his glass into the ice dispenser in the freezer door and it made a whirring sound. No ice came out. She tried again and got the same result.
She groaned.
“What’s going on?” his dad asked her.
His mom stared sourly toward the deck. “I think Pablo used all the ice for those drinks of his.”
“I’m okay with just water,” Ryan told her.
Meanwhile, Maddy stabbed at her chicken breast with her knife and fork. She couldn’t seem to get leverage, so she flipped it upside down. Then back the other way. She finally gave up, pouting at her brussels sprouts.
“Want me to cut that for you?” Ryan asked.
“No thanks. I’m not hungry.” Although she had totally demolished her dinner roll.
Something delicious simmered on the stove in two covered skillets. The scheduled kitchen division gave the Machados time in the kitchen in the late afternoon. So if they wanted to start something for their dinner then, they could. They’d only used two burners, sticking to the half a house rule.
His mom returned to the island and Ryan’s dad held up his fork. “Wonder what she’s cooking in there?”
His mom shrugged. “I think it’s chicken too.”
His dad stared at the morsel on his fork then set it down. “Smells really tasty, doesn’t it?” he asked his kids.
Maddy’s stomach rumbled. “Yeah. Like a restaurant.”
Ryan couldn’t resist a peek. He hopped off his stool and raised the lid on one of the frying pans.
“Ryan!” his mom chided. “What are you doing?”
“It is chicken—with rice and olives. Oh. And sausage. No. Chorizo.” Savory scents wafted into the room, including hints of saffron and smoked paprika.
His dad lifted his nose in the air, catching a whiff of the tantalizing aromas.
Ryan peered in the other saucepan at the caramelized dish. “And plantains.” They looked sticky and sweet, and super delicious.
His mouth watered and he replaced the lid. Oh no. Evita was looking inside from out on the deck, and she’d seen him.
He returned to his place and stared down at his food, which somehow didn’t look quite as appetizing as those Puerto Rican concoctions. He made an effort eating anyway. He’d burned tons of adrenaline today trying to keep his folks in check. He was famished.
“I’m not so happy with this house division,” his mom said. “The Machados seem to be taking it over.” Eunice had forgotten her diaper bag in the kitchen, and Nanny had left a stuffed toy in a Hatfield-side armchair. A large beach towel fluttered from the railing beyond their picnic table, hanging out to dry. It was red, white, and blue, sporting the design of the Puerto Rican flag. Red and white stripes with a large blue triangle and a single white star in the center of that.
“It’s not that bad, Daneen,” his dad said. He motioned with his knife toward the deck. “They appear to be staying on their side for the moment.” He stuck his knife into his chicken and sawed. And sawed. Back and forth several times. At last, he achieved a bite.
