Gaylyn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but you never listen to me.”
“Truth.” Bree had concluded that, of all the people in her life, the best person to listen to was herself. And the multitude of women on social media who testified that they were much better off alone than with a man. That many women couldn’t be wrong.
Fen was waiting for her at the order counter. “Hi, coffee queen,” he greeted her.
“Hey there. Did Gaylyn take your order?”
“I was waiting for you,” he said with his thousand-watt smile.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“Caramel frappe, Grande,” he said, and she scanned his phone. “You want to hit the beach? I got your favorite drink in a thermos in the Jeep.”
It had been a typical busy barista day with a nonstop flow of customers. Flopping on a blanket on the beach with a big thermos of lemonade mixed with 7-Up sounded great. They’d surf, play beach volleyball, and chill.
Santa Monica would be the beach of choice. On the weekends it was so packed with both tourists and locals you could barely find a square foot to park your butt, but this being a Tuesday, the beach wouldn’t be as crowded.
Bree didn’t have a problem with having people around them. The last thing she wanted was to find a nice, deserted stretch of sand like Escondido, which lay farther up the coast. She didn’t need Fen getting inspired by any romantic settings.
He’d resurfaced in her life a few weeks earlier, wandering into the coffee shop and discovering her working there. They’d broken up early in their senior year of high school but had vowed to at least remain friends, promised to keep in touch after graduation, and then he’d gone off to Pomona and she’d gone nowhere. Now he was already half done withschool, back for the summer and throwing out get-together vibes.
There would be no getting together. Not with Fen, not with anyone. She’d applied to the nursing program at Citrus College and been accepted, but instead of college she’d wound up taking a Life 201 course from her mother. She’d come away with a graduate degree in mistrust. No way was she ever getting serious with a man, not even Fen. Sharing a bed when inspiration hit? Maybe. Sharing a bank account? Never.
Anyway, she didn’t have time for romance. She had to stack up cash, so she could go to nursing school.
“Don’t worry about school. We’ve got the money saved for you,” Mom had assured her during her junior year in high school.
Then, in spring of her senior year, right after she’d gotten her welcome letter from the college, it was “Sit down, sweetie. I have something to tell you.” This was followed by another “I have something to tell you,” which wound up with divorce and saying goodbye to their house.
And now here she was. Instead of learning how to give people shots, she was making espresso shots. So wrong.
But she’d get her life back on track. And at least sharing an apartment with Gaylyn and Gaylyn’s bestie, Monique, was saving her a ton of rent money. She could have stayed with Gram and Mom and saved even more, piled up college money faster, but, much as she loved them both, that would have made her feel like she was back in high school. She preferred to be adulting.
Poor Mom. No adulting for her. That had to suck, moving back in with your mom when you were old. Pathetic. And all because of Gary. One man had managed to mess up both their lives. Mom should have seen what a loser he was. If she’d just kept tabs on their finances instead of trusting a man to takecare of things, she would have figured out what was going on long before their world fell apart.
But the sun was out, and the beach was calling. She wasn’t going to waste a perfectly good afternoon thinking about what her mom should have done and what her stepfather had done. He was history, blocked from her phone, and maybe, eventually, blocked from her memory.
It was hard to block out the good memories though—trips to Disneyland, Sunday afternoons playing Monopoly (Gary always lost. That should have given him a clue that he shouldn’t gamble), teaching her how to play poker. She would never pick up a deck of cards again.
And she would never talk to Gary again.
“Let’s do it,” she said to Fen. The beach, that was.
“I’m gone,” she said to Gaylyn after she’d finished up.
“Guess you don’t need a ride home.”
“Nope. We’re going to the beach.”
“Whoa, we just had a quake, girl.”
“It’s over. We’ll be fine.”
“I guess,” Gaylyn said dubiously.
Bree wasn’t worried. After she and her mom had survived what Gary had done to them? Bring on the tidal wave.
ZONA HAD RETURNEDto work after her unsettling lunch and the day had fallen back into the usual routine that came with being a licensing service rep. (Translation: worker bee at the department of licensing.) No more earthquakes. She administered half a dozen written tests and had to deny renewing an octogenarian’s driver’s license when he failed the eye test.
