Dangerous Girls
Page 22
We load up at the local market, piling snack foods and beer high on the tiny cart as if we’re shopping for a month, not just a week. The checkout girl doesn’t even ask for IDs, just swipes through the mountain of alcohol like it’s soda.
“It’s so weird we’re legal here,” Melanie glances back behind us as we emerge from the convenience store onto the bustling street. “The whole time she was ringing us up, I kept feeling like we’re breaking the law.”
“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal back home.” Chelsea sucks on a Popsicle. “When we went to Europe, kids were drinking wine with their meals all the time.”
“Ooh,” I tease. “Look at you, so continental.”
Elise joins me, mimicking, “That time we were in Paris . . . Oh, did I tell you about when we went to Rome?”
Chelsea shoves Elise good-naturedly. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“Hey, you girls want to give us a hand with this?”
We turn back to find the guys struggling to manage our huge stash of groceries.
“No thanks,” Elise calls back sunnily. “I’m sure you big, strong men can handle it for yourselves.”
Max replies with an obscene hand gesture.
We leave them and stroll on ahead back toward the beach house. This section of the street is narrow and noisy, packed with garish storefronts advertising local handcrafts, cheap phone cards, and tacky gifts. Some local traders have market stalls set up along the sidewalk, selling beaded jewelry and small carved wooden figurines, and Chelsea and Mel slow to browse the trinkets on display. I fall into step with Elise, peeling strings of red licorice and dangling them into my mouth.
“Wait up!” Mel calls to us.
Elise doesn’t slow, just rolls her eyes.
“She’s being such a drag.” She sighs. “She was moaning at me about the room thing for years back at the house.”
“Years?” I laugh.
“Centuries. But like I’m going to cramp my style sharing. She’d probably watch,” Elise adds, smirking. “You know she’s obsessed with me.”
“Come on.” I give her a look. “She’s not so bad. She’s just . . .”
“Whiny? Clingy? Insecure?”
“Wound too tight,” I say diplomatically. “We just find her some guy when we’re out tonight, then she’ll be too distracted to bother us anymore.”
“You’re too nice.” Elise sighs.
“Hey, she’s your friend,” I point out.
“Fine. I’m too nice.” Elise catches sight of something on the other side of the street. “Ooh, cute.”
She suddenly veers out into the road, and there’s a blast of a horn as an old beat-up car swerves to miss her. Elise doesn’t slow, just bounds through the traffic to a stall set up on the corner. I wait for the cars to clear, then follow.
“We’re just here on vacation.” Elise is smiling up at the trader when I arrive. He’s tall and muscular, a linen shirt draped open over his dark skin, his hair in dreadlocks.
“You like to party? You come to the right place.” He flashes a wide grin. “My friend, he owns a bar down by the beach. I can hook you up.”
Elise flutters her eyelashes at him. “That would be great.” She turns to me. “This is my new friend Juan,” she introduces him. “He knows all the best spots.”
“Oh. Great.” I look dubiously at his stall. It’s not so much a stall as a plank of wood set up on two wooden crates, with jewelry and junk laid out on a dirty, frayed piece of blue cloth. Elise picks up a bracelet of metal links and black onyx beading. “What do you think?”
“I think it looks like it washed up on the beach. Come on, we should go meet the others.”
Elise stands firm. “I like it.”
“Your friend has taste,” Juan tells me. “Pretty bracelet for a pretty girl.”
“Elise.” I tug her arm, my voice low. “These guys are just trying to rip you off.”
“Juan wouldn’t do that, would you?” Elise flutters some more. She’s got her best free-drink face on, the one she uses to charm poor suckers into buying us round after round at the bars along State Street. I drift a few steps away, knowing she won’t quit until she gets what she wants.
“How much?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“For you? A gift.” Juan beams.
“Really?” Elise checks. “You’re not tricking me, are you? Because that would be mean.” Her voice is still flirtatious.
“No tricks,” Juan slides the bracelet onto her wrist and holds on to her hand. “Maybe we can get a drink. I’ll show you that bar, down by the water.”
Elise pulls her hand away. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”
Juan clutches his chest, mimicking heartbreak. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Lots of them.” Elise grins.
There’s a piercing whistle from down the street. We both look over: Chelsea and the guys are waving to us from outside a beach store—inflatable rafts and pool toys hanging from outside the window. Lamar has a bright duck-shaped inner tube around his waist, over his clothes, and Tate and Max are dueling with neon blow-up swords.
Elise laughs. “Could they get any more phallic?”
“Just wait until they start with the wrestling,” I agree. “We done here?”
“Yup.” She turns back to Juan. “Thanks for the bracelet.” She turns to go, but he catches her arm.
“Wait, wait,” he insists. “Where you going? We get drinks, tonight.”
“No thanks.” Elise pulls free.
“I meet you, at the bar,” Juan insists.
Elise’s smile drops. “I said no.” She turns to me. “Creeper,” she says, and rolls her eyes without dropping her voice.
Juan’s expression darkens. “So that’s how it is, you play me. You think this is all a joke? That Juan is your dupe?”
Elise and I exchange a look and start to walk away, fast.
“Fucking Americans!” His voice echoes after us as we quickly slip into the crowds. “You all whores!”
The minute we’re away from the stall, I turn to Elise, pissed. “Why did you have to do that?”
“What?”
“Flirt with him. You can’t go around talking to strange guys, it’s not safe.”
“Relax.” Elise looks unconcerned. “Anyway, it was worth it. Look!” She shows off the bracelet.
“It’s so weird we’re legal here,” Melanie glances back behind us as we emerge from the convenience store onto the bustling street. “The whole time she was ringing us up, I kept feeling like we’re breaking the law.”
“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal back home.” Chelsea sucks on a Popsicle. “When we went to Europe, kids were drinking wine with their meals all the time.”
“Ooh,” I tease. “Look at you, so continental.”
Elise joins me, mimicking, “That time we were in Paris . . . Oh, did I tell you about when we went to Rome?”
Chelsea shoves Elise good-naturedly. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“Hey, you girls want to give us a hand with this?”
We turn back to find the guys struggling to manage our huge stash of groceries.
“No thanks,” Elise calls back sunnily. “I’m sure you big, strong men can handle it for yourselves.”
Max replies with an obscene hand gesture.
We leave them and stroll on ahead back toward the beach house. This section of the street is narrow and noisy, packed with garish storefronts advertising local handcrafts, cheap phone cards, and tacky gifts. Some local traders have market stalls set up along the sidewalk, selling beaded jewelry and small carved wooden figurines, and Chelsea and Mel slow to browse the trinkets on display. I fall into step with Elise, peeling strings of red licorice and dangling them into my mouth.
“Wait up!” Mel calls to us.
Elise doesn’t slow, just rolls her eyes.
“She’s being such a drag.” She sighs. “She was moaning at me about the room thing for years back at the house.”
“Years?” I laugh.
“Centuries. But like I’m going to cramp my style sharing. She’d probably watch,” Elise adds, smirking. “You know she’s obsessed with me.”
“Come on.” I give her a look. “She’s not so bad. She’s just . . .”
“Whiny? Clingy? Insecure?”
“Wound too tight,” I say diplomatically. “We just find her some guy when we’re out tonight, then she’ll be too distracted to bother us anymore.”
“You’re too nice.” Elise sighs.
“Hey, she’s your friend,” I point out.
“Fine. I’m too nice.” Elise catches sight of something on the other side of the street. “Ooh, cute.”
She suddenly veers out into the road, and there’s a blast of a horn as an old beat-up car swerves to miss her. Elise doesn’t slow, just bounds through the traffic to a stall set up on the corner. I wait for the cars to clear, then follow.
“We’re just here on vacation.” Elise is smiling up at the trader when I arrive. He’s tall and muscular, a linen shirt draped open over his dark skin, his hair in dreadlocks.
“You like to party? You come to the right place.” He flashes a wide grin. “My friend, he owns a bar down by the beach. I can hook you up.”
Elise flutters her eyelashes at him. “That would be great.” She turns to me. “This is my new friend Juan,” she introduces him. “He knows all the best spots.”
“Oh. Great.” I look dubiously at his stall. It’s not so much a stall as a plank of wood set up on two wooden crates, with jewelry and junk laid out on a dirty, frayed piece of blue cloth. Elise picks up a bracelet of metal links and black onyx beading. “What do you think?”
“I think it looks like it washed up on the beach. Come on, we should go meet the others.”
Elise stands firm. “I like it.”
“Your friend has taste,” Juan tells me. “Pretty bracelet for a pretty girl.”
“Elise.” I tug her arm, my voice low. “These guys are just trying to rip you off.”
“Juan wouldn’t do that, would you?” Elise flutters some more. She’s got her best free-drink face on, the one she uses to charm poor suckers into buying us round after round at the bars along State Street. I drift a few steps away, knowing she won’t quit until she gets what she wants.
“How much?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“For you? A gift.” Juan beams.
“Really?” Elise checks. “You’re not tricking me, are you? Because that would be mean.” Her voice is still flirtatious.
“No tricks,” Juan slides the bracelet onto her wrist and holds on to her hand. “Maybe we can get a drink. I’ll show you that bar, down by the water.”
Elise pulls her hand away. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”
Juan clutches his chest, mimicking heartbreak. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Lots of them.” Elise grins.
There’s a piercing whistle from down the street. We both look over: Chelsea and the guys are waving to us from outside a beach store—inflatable rafts and pool toys hanging from outside the window. Lamar has a bright duck-shaped inner tube around his waist, over his clothes, and Tate and Max are dueling with neon blow-up swords.
Elise laughs. “Could they get any more phallic?”
“Just wait until they start with the wrestling,” I agree. “We done here?”
“Yup.” She turns back to Juan. “Thanks for the bracelet.” She turns to go, but he catches her arm.
“Wait, wait,” he insists. “Where you going? We get drinks, tonight.”
“No thanks.” Elise pulls free.
“I meet you, at the bar,” Juan insists.
Elise’s smile drops. “I said no.” She turns to me. “Creeper,” she says, and rolls her eyes without dropping her voice.
Juan’s expression darkens. “So that’s how it is, you play me. You think this is all a joke? That Juan is your dupe?”
Elise and I exchange a look and start to walk away, fast.
“Fucking Americans!” His voice echoes after us as we quickly slip into the crowds. “You all whores!”
The minute we’re away from the stall, I turn to Elise, pissed. “Why did you have to do that?”
“What?”
“Flirt with him. You can’t go around talking to strange guys, it’s not safe.”
“Relax.” Elise looks unconcerned. “Anyway, it was worth it. Look!” She shows off the bracelet.
