Chapter 16

Saturday, May 26

I turned to see Mom and Mr. Ferguson surveying our hedonistic little scene.

“Whose idea was this?” Mom wanted to know.

Kacie and Morgan eventually admitted culpability, like there could be any other explanation when those two are involved.

“We were just having fun with Gary,” my little sister whined. “We weren’t causing any trouble.”

“No, just having your brother parade around in public in an obscene outfit,” Mom said. “You should know better, especially after your stunt yesterday.”

“It’s a competition swimsuit,” Kacie said. “It’s just like what the guys on our swim team at school wear. He’s not even the only boy out here wearing one right now.”

Mom didn’t look like she believed her, but Arlene Jenson jumped in to save the day.

“She’s telling the truth, Claire,” Arlene said. “I’ve been sitting here talking with them since they arrived. I thought it was a brilliant idea for them to bring their own cabana attendant. I wish I’d thought of it.

“And your son has been a perfect gentleman about it all. He’s brought us drinks, snacks, applied sunscreen, adjusted the awning, everything we’ve asked.”

Mom still didn’t look sure, eyeing the other kids who all did their best to appear innocent, which they mostly were. Then Mom spied the stack of cash on the table, weighted down by Kacie’s phone.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“My tips,” I said.

“Tips?”

“He’s been running errands for some of the other cabanas,” Arlene said. “They’ve kept him hopping.”

I saw Larry Ferguson get a gleam in his eye and wasn’t sure I liked it.

“How much have you made?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t had time to count it.”

Kacie quickly flipped through the stack of bills.

“Almost $70,” she said. And that didn’t count whatever Arlene had stuck down the back of my suit.

“How long did that take?” Mr. Ferguson asked.

“Maybe three hours,” I said. “Some of the folks saw me bring the girls their lunches and asked if I would do it for them. Most of them were mothers with little kids. They were able to keep an eye on their children while I took care of their order. The girl at the snack bar let me bring the charge slips for the people to sign and I’d run them back up to her.”

Run being a relative term. These flip-flops were not designed for speed.

“Who’s working in the snack bar today?” Mom asked.

“It should be Melinda Hernandez, if I remember Maurice’s staffing plan,” Mr. Ferguson said before turning back to me.

“How’d you like a job?” he asked. “I hadn’t realized the need for cabana attendants, but if you’ve done this much in this little corner in just a few hours, there’s obviously a market.

“We should probably also look into childcare needs,” he added, looking at Mom.

Mr. Ferguson turned back to me again.

“Come see me Tuesday morning and we’ll see what we can figure out,” he said.

“One thing we will definitely figure out is a different uniform,” mom said. “I’m not having you running around dressed like that.”

“I’ve got a few thoughts on that,” Mr. Ferguson said. “We’ll discuss it Tuesday.”

With that he turned to go. Mom let him get a few steps away before delivering her parting shot.

“We’ll discuss this tonight at home,” she said. “And put on something decent.”

“Perro suertudo,” Eddie said as Mom walked away. “You’re the only Anglo I know who can turn running around in his underwear into a paying gig.”

“Really? How many Latinos you know who can do it?” I asked rhetorically.

It was nearing 4 p.m., time for us to be out of the cabana, so I started picking up, making sure trash was disposed of and trays were returned to the snack bar. That earned a smile from Melinda Hernandez. I guess her job entailed hunting down trays that weren’t returned.

Most of the other kids began making their way toward the changing rooms. The football players were the only ones I thought ever went in the water today. Morgan and Kacie never got off their lounges except to go to the bathroom in the cabana.

Me, I was getting hungry. In fetching meals for other people, I’d never had time to take a break and eat.

Just as we were getting ready to go, Arlene flagged us down.

“Ladies, may I impose one last time?” she asked. “Could you have your cabana boy bring my car around? It’s the blue Jag parked in front of the tennis center. There should be only the one.”

With that, she dangled her key fob.

“Oh, Cabana Boy, please bring Arlene’s car around,” Morgan said, playing her role to the very end.

“Yes, Miss.”

I reached for the key, which Arlene held just out of my grasp.

“I’ll let you get changed first,” she said quietly as I leaned nearer. “I wouldn’t want your mother to get the wrong idea.”

With a wink, she pressed the key into my hand and disappeared into her cabana.

I headed to the changing room, glad to finally have a chance to get out of this ridiculous getup. As I peeled out of the Speedo, Arlene’s tip fluttered to the floor. It was a $100 bill with a phone number scrawled on it in black Sharpie. The amount stunned me. The phone number frightened me. It also reminded me that Kacie had my phone, wallet and the rest of the cash I’d accumulated.

I took advantage of the facilities to get a quick shower, rinsing off the sweat of the day and washing out whatever Kacie did to my hair. I was tempted to get a buzz cut to prevent that from ever happening again.

After getting dressed, I exited the pool complex and walked toward the tennis center. Arlene was right, in a parking lot full of Cadillacs and Lincolns, it wasn’t difficult to spot a Jaguar XF. Like its owner, it appeared to be a luxurious ride.

It took me a minute to figure out the workings of the fob, but I eventually hit the correct button to unlock the door. I squeezed in, not because the car was small but because I had no idea how to adjust the seat.

With my knees spread to either side of the steering wheel, I got the car started and in gear, then slowly crept around the lot to the front of the pool complex. I shut it down and quickly got out, more relieved that I’d delivered it undamaged than from escaping the physical discomfort of cramped quarters. If I’d dinged a car like that, Dad would have killed me.

Arlene soon came out in a peasant blouse, designer jeans and spike-heeled boots. Just walking to her car, she oozed a sophistication and elegance I could never hope to match.

She leaned in close as I returned her key.

“I expect to hear from you,” she said as she brushed my cheek with hers.

The girls came out in their street clothes before Arlene was out of the parking lot, loaded me up with their totes again and turned for home.

“You do realize this little stunt is going to require significant penance on your part,” I said. “Kacie’s note said you’d make it worth my while. That may take all summer.”

“But you looked so scrumptious in your Speedo,” Morgan said, “it was worth the risk. Arlene Jenson was positively salivating, and that was before you made her orgasm with that foot rub. She’s yours for the taking.”

“How do you know she had an orgasm?” I asked.

“Because I had one last night when you rubbed my feet,” Morgan said. “And she said so when it was just me and Kacie around. You hit a spot that seems to have a direct connection to the clitoris. I thought the woman was going to light up a cigarette after that. You’re just lucky Jed and his pals showed up. The other girls were practically dripping waiting for their turn.”