Wildest Dreams

15. Kendall

KENDALL

I t’s Memorial Day, which of course means everyone in town who is not working on the movie is on the river.

The weather is perfect. It’s warm but not scorching, and it hasn’t rained all week, so the humidity isn’t too bad. Since Pierre is busy with his movie until Saturday, I accept an invitation from Patsy to hang out with her family on their pontoon boat. They live outside of town but offer to pick me up at Cattywampus since it’s within walking distance of my apartment.

I put on my bathing suit, covering it with an Auburn t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and flip-flops and pack a bag complete with sunscreen, a pink ball cap, and a giant bottle of water. The walk to Cattywampus is short, and the easiest way down to the dock is from their back patio. As soon as I step in the door, everyone turns around to stare at me.

“Hey, Kendall!” calls Calista from behind the bar. “Where’s your new man?” She winks at me and, though I know she means well, I want cover my face and hide. Instead, I try to laugh it off, wave at her as I go by, and trot as fast as I can down the steps outside to the dock.

When I get to the bottom, I stop in my tracks.

Patsy’s boat is there, waiting for me as promised, but so is Tucker’s. They’re parked side by side and Garion and Tucker are on the dock talking. Patsy is on her boat, long tan legs crossed with a toddler in her lap and glaring at Tucker like she’s plotting his untimely death. Her four oldest boys are running around, shooting water guns at each other and screaming, but she’s completely tuned them out.

I take a deep breath and make my way to the dock. I brush past Garion and Tucker with my head held high, give them a polite “excuse me,” then step onto the boat. I have to admit it was easier to face Tucker knowing he’s aware of my new—albeit temporary—relationship.

Before Pierre, I would’ve cowered and called Patsy crying from the bar’s bathroom. But now it feels different. Maybe I’m not the boring, unlovable little troll Tucker made me out to be.

Pierre f-ing Chatham likes me. A lot.

Looking at Tucker now, he seems a little ridiculous. His hair is too long in a midlife crisis sort of way, even though we’re only thirty years old. I look to Whitney in the boat next to ours and I realize Pierre was right. She is a shell of a person.

At least she has built-in flotation devices on her chest in case of a boating accident.

I sit down beside Patsy at the bow of the boat.

“I told him not to talk to that f-er,” Patsy says, her foot shaking in anger.

“It’s fine. Besides, they’ve been friends since we were kids. I don’t expect Gar to cut him off because of me.”

“I do.”

I chuckle. “That’s between y’all.”

One of Patsy’s boys screams from the back of the boat.

“Archer, don’t hit your brother with that gun! Guns are for shooting, not hitting.”

I shake my head.

“Garion, we need to get back on the water before these kids kill each other.”

Garion says goodbye to Tucker, gets back in the boat, and we pull off. As we’re leaving the dock, I can’t help but turn to look at Tucker and Whitney. Whitney has her back to me, but Tucker’s eyes meet mine as he takes a swig of his beer. I turn back around, feeling smug.

Once we’re in the middle of the lake, Garion puts an innertube in the water, helps his two oldest boys onto it, and we pull them around the river. Their lifejackets swallow their lanky bodies, and at times all we can see are the tops of their blond heads peeping out over the neon green nylon.

Patsy, recovered from her burst of anger at Tucker, turns her attention to a happier subject.

“So,” she says, her excitement infectious, “tell me about Saturday night!”

“Saturday…” I say, tapping my lip with my finger. “I don’t recall.”

“Oh, whatever. Start from the beginning.”

I go through every step of my night with Pierre—the pizza, the wine, the conversation, and most importantly, those kisses. His lips, his smell, his everything.

“Girl, you are in love with him.”

“I’ve seen him three times. That’s hardly enough time to fall in love with someone. Besides, he’s leav?—”

“He’s leaving in a few weeks, blah blah blah. He’s here now, and you are besotted.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Okay,” I admit. “Maybe a little.”

Patsy squeals, garnering a look from her husband.

“I bet it feels good to see Tucker, knowing that Pierre f-ing Chatham is the last guy you kissed, not to mention the next guy you’ll… you know.”

“Patsy!”

“Whatever. You know it’s going to happen. Admit it, though. It has to feel good.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah,” I say through clenched teeth. “Yeah, it does.”

“I would say I told you so, but you already know I did.”

“Yes, yes. You’re always right.”

She puts her arm around me and draws me close for a side hug. I put my temple to hers.

“Oh!” she says. “Guess what the second-best thing to happen with this movie coming to town is?”

“What’s that?”

“They actually do need locals for extras! The newspaper posted it online. One day next week, they need kids for a scene at the baseball fields. I’m taking Gunner, Archer, and Buck. Then they’re doing several days and nights downtown on Main Street and it says all ages, so I can bring all five boys. My mama and my gran are coming too. I’m so excited I could scream. You have to come.”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“What? You don’t want to be in your boyfriend’s movie?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s basically your boyfriend.”

“No, he’s a guy I’m temporarily hanging out with who happens to be a good kisser.”

She shakes her head. “Either way, I’m tickled that you’re finally getting back to your old self again.”

I grin. She’s right.

“Me too,” I say, gazing out at the bright sparkling water on the blue horizon. In the distance, a largemouth bass leaps from the water and lands with a soft splash.