Thirty-Four
Kenny saw stars, both literally and figuratively. The moon and constellations were still shining bright when she made it back to Pelican Pointe and her mind fluttered, dizzied with excitement. She sat down on the pool deck, pulled up the skirt of the green maxi dress and dangled her feet in the water.
She relived the night in her mind. It was like a song that makes you either deliriously happy or catastrophically sad and you physically can’t stop yourself from hitting the repeat button because you don’t want to leave the moment. But as much as she didn’t want the unexpected night to end, she wouldn’t have changed a thing about how it came to its inevitable conclusion.
Text from Colby: Did the sun not set down there tonight? What happened to my picture?
Kenny stared at her phone for a few seconds and attempted to give considerable and reasonable thought about how she was going to respond to Colby’s text but was distracted by the movie of the night that was still a full-blown feature film playing in her mind. She was tired of lying to her best friend but wasn’t completely ready to come clean about her current situation.
Screw it.
Kenny picked up the phone and dialed Colby.
“I was getting nervous, doll. I was starting to think you fell over the side of this unnamed lighthouse, trying to get the perfect shot of the sun for me,” Colby greeted.
“It sounds quiet, are you actually home and alone at 9:45 p.m. on a Thursday night?” Kenny asked, genuinely surprised.
“Our team had the early touch football game tonight. Pride Pack won. Go us! We’re such little engines that could. We qualified for the playoffs! The rest of the hussies are still celebrating at Boxers but the Manuscript Eater called one of her infamous sunrise meetings for tomorrow.”
“I’m proud of you, Colby! You never know when to go home.” Kenny commended, sarcastically.
“Thanks, Mom,” he replied mockingly. “Is this little lecture over? Can I go to bed now?”
“Actually, no. I have something to say, confess really, and I need you to hold all commentary until the end.”
“Okay? I think,” Colby cautiously questioned.
“I’m not down here for work, there is no assignment. After that day, the day I lost the Clinton White interview andArmchair Detectivewas rejected,andyou and I had our ‘situation,’I needed a break from everything. I needed a break from life. I found a villa for a good price on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, took five of my unused vacations weeks and cashed in on my National Rental Car points. I drove down here for a solo vacation to reenergize and find myself. I reduced or eliminated all those things that self-help books say can clutter or be a detriment to our minds: men, carbs, booze, social media, a sedentary lifestyle; and I threw in my obnoxious Post-it notes. I’ve added healthy doses of exercise and sun and I feel amazing. I can’t tell you a time I’ve felt more at peace and refreshed.” Kenny stopped to take a breath and collect the rest of her somewhat rehearsed thoughts.
“This is simply fantastic!” Colby interjected. “Can I?—”
“Stop. I’m not done. It’s true that I did meet a handsome golfer and we went kayaking. His name is J.P. I keep bumping into him around the island and he happened to be at the lighthouse tonight. He bought me a beer, and we chatted for a long time. Before we parted ways, he asked me to go to dinner next week and kissed me on the cheek,” Kenny blurted out, her voice taking on a more singsong tone with every word she uttered.
“My heart is screaming! Can I let the screams out of my mouth, yet? Are you done?” Colby didn’t attempt to hide his enthusiasm.
“I don’t need you to go all Colby on me. This isn’t arealdate. When J.P. walked away, he said ‘it’s a date.’ I’m sure he was just referring to a day on the calendar, since he specifically mentioned next Wednesday. We’re going to some seafood joint called Charlie’s, it sounds super casual, like picnic tables. And it wasn’t arealkiss. It was just a little peck, you know. I’m not reading anything into it because there’s still the possibility that he falls under one of the dating red flags: freak, gay, married, or serial killer. And if he doesn’t have a red flag next to one of those categories, I still live in Manhattan, and he still lives here. So, it’s really all a moot point.”
“Queen, are you done with your rant, yet?” he asked and continued without giving her time to respond. “A quick search of ‘J.P. + Hilton Head + golf’ shows a deliciousbutstraight man. He’s not gay, which is largely unfortunate; he doesn’t have crazy eyes, so he’s not a serial killer; and there’s enough other articles about him on the internet from his time on the PGA tour that it would be public by now if he was married or a freak. We can safely clear all those boxes.”
“Oh my God, Colby! Isn’t this what I just told younotto do?” She sighed. But mostly a sigh of relief that Colby did the quick Google search she was afraid to conduct on her own.
“You did, but you didn’t sound like you meant it. Now that I know you’ll be safe with this J.P. character, I won’t dig any further until you give me the green light.”
“Stop, no more. Red light. I don’t need or want to know any more. If I decide Idowant to know more about J.P., I want to learn it from him and not some inaccurate posting on the web,” Kenny stopped Colby in his tracks.
“Fine. Then we can move on. You’ll thank me for this tidbit. Is it Charlie’s on New Orleans Road?” Colby asked.
“Yes,” Kenny apprehensively answered.
“I knew it! Thisisa date. J.P. is taking you to Charlie’s L’Etoile Verte, an intimate, French-inspired bistro with white linens, white string globe lights, and charming wrought iron tables for two on their cozy and inviting wrap around porch.” He breathlessly described the setting like he was writing a review for a restaurant under consideration for a Michelin star.
“You are extreme, Colby Jackson.” Kenny giggled. “But that does sound lovely. Maybe I should treat it as a real date? It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those that I genuinely wanted to go on.”
“Now that you agree it’s a date, treat yourself to something new and fabulous to wear. I’m really excited for you, Kenny. It’s been too long since my best friend has sounded this happy,” he turned down his theatrics and turned up his sincerity.
“Thanks, Colby. I am happy. And I’m happy that I can share it all with you.”
“Me too, Love. Now go get some sleep and call me tomorrow so we can discuss wardrobe. Love you, mean it, bi-yee!”
