Heat Wave (9 page)

“Fine,” I say dismissively. “Hey, look where I am.” I bring the phone up and slowly bring it around me in a circle, aiming at the scenery.

“Seriously?” Claire's voice crackles until I bring the phone back to me. “And you said you didn't want to go.”

“I didn't!” I tell her. “And I still don't want to be here.”

Claire is the only person who knows the truth about everything. She knows how Logan and I met. She knows that he cheated on Juliet with God knows who. She knows why I was fired from my last job. She knows that I had no choice but to come out here. She knows everything. Yet another reason why I'm already missing her.

“Well I'm sure waking up to paradise every day will eventually start to wear your cynicism down.”

“Cynicism?”

“You know what I mean, Ron. It could be worse. Everything can always be worse.”

That's the other thing about Claire. She takes no crap. That might be why I like Kate, they're both similar in that way. There's only so much “boo hoo I'm moving to Hawaii” Claire can handle, even if she knows the truth.

“Right,” I say. “Well anyway, now you get to come with me on my walk back to the hotel. If the reception cuts out I'll try and call you back later. There's no TV or landlines at the hotel you know, but at least the internet somewhat works.”

“I think that's charming. Makes you get out there and enjoy the outdoors. How is the hotel anyway?”

I explain to her the gist of it all, from the layout and the restaurant to the sleeping arrangements and the staff.

“So it wasn't weird when you saw Logan?”

I swallow, wishing she wasn't staring at my face and studying it. Fuck Facetime. “Um, well it was weird. Yeah.”

“Did you talk about Juliet?” she asks softly. Claire always softens her voice when she mentions her name. I think it’s because she's still not sure how I'm going to react.

“In passing,” I say, then cringe at the poor choice of words. “I mean, she came up but indirectly.”

“Did you see where . . . it happened? The crash site?”

That was one of the things I was trying not to look for. I knew it happened near the hotel but I wasn't sure where. “I closed my eyes for some of the ride over,” I admit. “I don't know if I passed it or not. I'm not sure I want to see it, actually.”

“Fair enough. God, sorry Ron. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you now that you’re finally there.”

Claire knows I was never close with my sister but she also knows how badly I wanted to be. How I lost that chance for good.

“Yeah well, I'm just going to take it day by day. Everyone here talks about Juliet like, well, like everyone else does at home. So I suppose that's a good thing. She wasn't just this amazing person in Chicago, she was the same amazing person here.”

Claire falls silent, her brows furrowing as she thinks that over. “Are you going to talk to Logan about what you know?” she finally asks.

I sigh, looking up from the phone just as I round the bend and see the hotel creep into sight.

“I don't see the point,” I tell her. “What's done is done.”

“Well it might clue him into why you hate him so much.”

“I'm sure he knows why. I don't have to say anything. He knows what he did. And he's probably always known that Juliet told me. That's why he's been a dick ever since then.”

“Are you sure he hasn't been a dick because you've been a dick?”

I glare at her, hoping it comes through the screen. “Claire,” I warn her before switching the subject. I start showing her the hotel as I get closer and eventually we end the phone call with me sitting out on the beach, right in front of the restaurant.

“I better go,” she says. “Break a leg tonight.”

I can't help but yawn, a wave of fatigue washing over me. Maybe such a strenuous walk wasn't the best idea when jetlagged and on minimal food. I'm used to eating a lot more than this.

“Break a leg,” I scoff. “You know how many times that's nearly happened to me in the kitchen? Wet floors are no joke.”

She laughs. “Then bring a mop. I love you. Talk to you later.”

“Love you,” I tell her, my words coming out almost in a whisper as the connection is severed.

Even though I know I'll get sand everywhere, I lay back on the beach, my phone resting on my chest.

I'd met Claire back in culinary school. She had been just like me, a bright young thing with dreams of being the next cooking superstar. But Claire's talent for cooking only ran so deep and she was easily discouraged. She dropped out before it was over, even though it all worked out for the better. While I stayed with the program, she went on to combine the little experience she had with her love of wine. She's now a sommelier at one of the better wine stores in town and has her eyes on opening a vineyard in the future. As hard as it was to leave my best friend, I know she would eventually do the same to me one day. The woman belongs on a vineyard in Chile somewhere, living out her dream.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath through my nose, willing the sweet, sultry air and steady crash of waves to calm my heart.

CHAPTER SIX

It’s not long before I’ve fallen asleep, and once again I know I’m dreaming. My lucidness has been working overtime since I got here.

But my dream isn’t a new scenario like the sex dream I had about Logan. It still features him, but it’s set in the past, in a real event.

The Christmas we all spent together. The one the first year they were together, before they were married, before they moved to Kauai. The hotel was in the final stages of takeover and Logan was spending more and more time in Hawaii, but we were all together for the holidays.

In reality, Christmas was held at my parents’ house. It always was. My mother always went way out—and by that, I mean she hired the same decorator every year to make our home look like a Christmas wonderland. Then the news channels and newspaper reporters would come by and do a yearly special on our place. Christmas in my family wasn’t really about family—it was about showing off.

And Janice, our decorator, was a fixture around the holidays, popping in a few times a week between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day to add some touches. From the time my mom entered politics, when I was around seven years old, Christmas has always been the largest event of the year. But even as a kid, I could tell something was off. I was the envy of children at school and yet I envied after their tales of Christmas Eve when one of their parents dressed up as Santa, or the ritual of leaving out milk and cookies, or the next morning, ripping into their presents. I always got far more than them, sometimes as many as one hundred presents, which looking back now, was a disgusting waste of wealth. I would have rather gotten one or two gifts that had meaning and love behind them. Some parents underestimate how simple kids really are—love, unconditional and ongoing, is really all we need.

So with that in mind, Christmas was always a cold, joyless time.

In my dream, it was no different. Janice was there, as were my parents, Logan, Juliet, and myself. But instead of being in their house, it was held at my apartment. All of us were crammed in around my tiny kitchen table that Janice had decorated with fake snow. All of us were covered in it, white streaks down our faces. There was a Christmas tree in the corner but it was a palm tree, its fronds stretching out over the ceiling.

But even though the setting was different, everything else was the same.

My father, with his pinched nose and stern mouth, his grey suits and burgundy ties (always the same, my mother wouldn’t let him try another color), barely said two words, my mother dominating most of the conversation. Her face was doing that weird thing where sometimes she looked like Juliet and sometimes she looked like herself, always interchanging, but the conversation was word for word.

I know because I’ve never forgotten it.

Juliet asked for my father to pass her the bottle of red wine, wanting to top off her glass.

“No, darling,” my mother had said with that politician’s smile. “One glass is your limit these days.”

“Why?” I asked. Juliet loved wine.

Juliet and Logan exchanged a glance. My mother gave me a placating smile. “Because your sister is going to be married in the spring. As soon as it’s official, I expect they’ll be trying for a child. The last thing we want is a tainted child in this family. Juliet’s diet will be very strict. Mothers have to start months in advance to rid their bodies of all impurities.”

None of this was surprising to me. I had figured that they’d start having kids after getting married. Even so, there was something in my mother’s tone, some kind of pride that hinted that the conversation wasn’t over.

And it wasn’t.

“Oh,” I’d said and motioned for the bottle. If she wasn’t drinking it, I was going to.

As my father passed it over, my mother eyed it with disdain. “You know, Veronica,” my mother said, brushing back her blonde bangs from her face, “it would be nice if you followed in your sister’s footsteps. Found a man. Started getting things lined up. Your future. You’re not getting any younger. Your sister is already pressing her luck.”

The whole table went silent. What she said was never news to me. There’d always been talk about me trying to measure up to Juliet, to become just like her. But this was the first she’d mentioned it on such a personal level and in front of everyone, including Logan.

I busied myself with the wine while I thought of what to say. Something light to throw the whole conversation away. “Well, we can’t all be Juliet.” I even gave my sister a wink, to let her know I didn’t mean any harm by it.

And Juliet laughed. “No, you certainly can’t,” she said and she looked to my mother with a look of wry disbelief. “Mom, you know Veronica is going to end up one of those crazy cat ladies when she grows up. She has zero time for men.”

That startled me. “Cat lady? I don’t even like cats.”

“Oh relax,” Juliet said with a wicked laugh. “You’re always overreacting to everything I say. You should learn to take a joke. Maybe you won’t have a bunch of cats, but if you keep going at this rate, it’s just going to be you surrounded by plates of food. I’m all for taking your career seriously, but after a while you should probably start exploring your options.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” my mother said, jumping in. “You need to smile more. Become more diplomatic. More open. You won’t ever attract a man, the right man, if you don’t try and make yourself a little…nicer.”

“We care about you,” Juliet quickly added. “We don’t want to see you unhappy and alone.”

I was stunned in real life and I was as stunned in the dream. I still didn’t have a good comeback. I just stared up at the ceiling which turned into clouds, snow falling into my eyes.

“I don’t think Veronica has anything to worry about,” Logan said, speaking up, wiping the falling snow from his arms. I looked at him in surprise. He rarely said anything in these situations, often letting my mother and Juliet dominate. He gave me a light, quick smile, even though his eyes were burning with something more grave. It was hidden just beneath the surface, like he was angered by all of this. “In a few years she’ll have her own damn cooking show. I mean look at her. She’d be perfect for it. I know I’d tune in.”

Then he scooped mashed potatoes into his mouth, averting his eyes away from mine.

Damn. Logan had just gone to bat for me.

Silence fell over the table again. Finally, my father spoke up, “That’s not a bad idea, Logan. Ronnie, there’s a new goal for you. You could be the next Nigella Lawson or, what’s that woman’s name? The skinnier version of her? Either way, it’s better than working as an ordinary cook.”

And just like that, the conversation was dropped. I know my mother wanted to point out that if anyone should be on TV, it should be Juliet, but she didn’t. I’m also sure that was the first moment that really cemented in my mother’s mind that Logan was the enemy.

And he was marrying her precious daughter.

Then the dream melded into other dreams. Colorful flying chickens swooping down mountainsides, plates of ahi tuna, swimming in a pool full of floating luggage. Everything drifting off into blissful nonsense.

Dreams upon dreams upon dreams.