Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) (40 page)

“What answer?”

“The answer to why I should live rather than die,” Diana said simply.

“So…”

“The answer is revenge. Hurt everyone who ever hurt you. Hurt them worse than they hurt you. Hurt them until they never want to hurt you again.”

It was obvious, really, now that she understood it.

And yet Summer was looking at her with pain in her eyes. Pain and concern.

“Come on,” Diana said, “let’s go do something.”

“Okay,” Summer said reluctantly. “Just remind me not to make you mad.”

It was an unusual get-together, to say the least.

Summer, Diana, and Marquez, sunglassed, sandaled, and bare-midriffed, occupied an outdoor table on the deck of the appropriately named Marina Deck restaurant. They had before them various extravagant, rapidly wilting salads and sweating cold beverages. The sun was high in the sky, but only their bare legs stuck out from beneath the shade of the umbrella.

One of the unusual parts was the conversation, which had started with Diana’s incredible tale of the video camera and moved to Summer’s even more incredible tale of the underwater cave and her long-lost brother.

The other unusual part was that while Summer was behaving like herself, Diana and Marquez seemed to have switched personalities. Marquez was acting just short of sullen, while Diana, of all people, was the life of their little party, giddy, witty, flirting with the waiter, and admiring the parade of passing men in shorts and trunks and Speedos.

They were down just a little from the Crab ’n’ Conch, overlooking the marina. The large boat—Sean Valletti’s uncle’s boat—was still parked at the far end of the pier.

“Footprints,” Diana said, nodding her head sagely. “Sounds like a good idea to send for them. Seth is always very practical that way. The kind of guy who’s good with his hands, if you know what I mean, and, Summer, I’m sure you know what I mean.” Diana wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Summer exchanged a look with Marquez. Yes, Diana was definitely acting strangely.

“You know, Summer, I thought for a while there that I might take a quick pass at Seth myself,” Diana chatted away. “I mean, he is cute, isn’t he?”

“I think so,” Summer said darkly.

“He has a better behind than anything I’ve seen here on the boardwalk.” Diana laughed. “Don’t worry, just kidding, Summer. I’ve decided against that.” She took a long sip of her virgin strawberry daiquiri. “But now that I’m back, well, I’m
back
. Just because Adam was a disaster doesn’t mean I should become a nun.”

“I’m sure the sisters at the convent will breathe a sigh of relief,” Marquez muttered. “Do you have a guy in mind? Or will this be someone you call from the fiery pits with a pentagram and a Black Mass?”

“That’s better,
Maria
,” Diana said patronizingly, patting Marquez’s knee. “See, Summer?
Maria’s
finally waking up.”

Marquez made a halfhearted attempt to stab Diana’s hand with a straw.

“Actually, there is a guy—” Diana began.

Summer cut her off with a karate chop in the air. “Shh. Turn around. Don’t look!” She turned away from the boardwalk, rested her elbows on the table, and cradled her head in her hands.

“Where? What are we looking at?” Diana demanded, rising from her chair to look around.

“I said,
don’t
look!” Summer hissed.

“Oh, I know what she’s hiding from,” Marquez said, with a glint of her usual mischief. But to Summer’s relief, Marquez too shielded her face from view.

“Now,
there
is a specimen,” Diana said. “Great shoulders.”

“Diana. Will. You. Sit. Down?” Summer said through gritted teeth.

Diana sat down abruptly. But it was too late. Sean had spotted her, and from spotting her, had spotted Summer.

“Summer!” he yelled, plowing through a passing flock of in-line skaters.

“What am I going to say?” Summer asked Marquez. “He’s going to ask me out.”

Marquez shrugged.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Diana asked grumpily. “What am I? Skank woman?”

“No, you’re just schizo,” Marquez said. “Look, Summer knows this guy from back in Mootown.”

“Hey, Summer, I almost didn’t see you,” Sean said as he arrived. Instantly he bent over and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he grabbed a vacant chair and pulled it over to the table, sitting between Summer and Diana.

He was wearing trunks and no shirt, still Minnesota pale but reddening. Summer noticed that he had actual chest hair. She had not encountered much chest hair before, and it disturbed her a little. Seth was completely smooth. Boyish. Sean managed to look as if he was ten years older somehow.

“Sean Valletti, this is Marquez, and Diana Olan. Diana is my cousin.”

“You’re one of the waitresses from last night, right?” Sean asked Marquez. “What kind of a name is Marquez?”

“Japanese,” Marquez said.

“Oh, I get it,” Sean said after a moment’s hesitation. He turned his attention to Diana. “You two are cousins, huh? You don’t look at all alike.”

“Well, we’re not biologically related,” Diana explained. “I mean, Summer’s father is my mother’s brother, but my mother was adopted, so, see, no actual blood relation.”

Sean looked doubtful. “Are you pulling my leg? Some kind of a joke, right?”

“No, it’s true,” Summer said. She was shifting away from him slightly and glancing over her shoulder every few seconds, hoping that Seth was not done with his work, and that if he
was
done, he had not decided to go for a walk by the marina.

“I didn’t know that,” Marquez said. She made a gesture of relief. “Thank God. I couldn’t figure out how good and evil could come from the same family tree like that.”

“So, Summer,” Sean said, “we on for the Bacchanal?”

“Um…” Summer began.

Marquez and Diana both waited attentively. Sean smiled his toothy smile and unconsciously rippled the muscles of his chest as he leaned close.

“Um, I may have to work that night. I’ll have to see,” Summer temporized.

Sean surprised her by taking her hand between both of his. “Try hard, okay? I feel like I had to come all the way here to realize what I was missing back home, you know? But now that we’re both here, why not?”

“I thought you were seeing Liz Block,” Summer said, trying again to find a graceful way to resolve everything without having to tell him no. Actually having to tell Sean Valletti no was not something she had ever expected to do. She wasn’t any more prepared for it than she was for blowing off Zac Efron.

Sean waved his hand dismissively. “History. I had to end that. I mean, she’s sweet and all, but she’s not very interesting. To be honest, it was because she was great-looking, you know?” He smiled a dazzling smile. “But you…you have the looks and the brains.”

“Thanks,” Summer said, blushing in a way she hoped was invisible in the shade of the umbrella.

“So make it happen, all right?” Sean said. He got to his feet. “Gotta go now. Nice to meet everyone.” He pointed an index finger at Summer. “You and me at the big party.”

And then he was gone.

Marquez and Diana both sipped their drinks and said nothing.

“All right,
what
?” Summer demanded angrily.

“I didn’t say anything,” Diana protested. “Did you say anything, Marquez?”

“Not me.”

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” Summer pleaded. “He’s
Sean Valletti.
He’s the cutest guy in my school. Every girl in school dreams about him. I had a crush on him for years.”

“I can see why,” Diana admitted. “Great body. Great hair. Great face. I’m undecided on the chest hair.”

“I kind of like the chest hair,” Marquez said. “I mean, the way he has it—mostly on his chest, not on his stomach or on his shoulders or anything gross.”

“He’s not exactly a genius,” Diana said.

“But that’s good, not bad,” Marquez said. “You don’t want a guy who’s too smart. J.T. is too smart for his own good. Always analyzing everything and getting all confused. What you want is a guy who’s just good-looking and basically sweet.”

“Like Diver,” Marquez and Diana said at exactly the same moment.

“I mean,
like
Diver, as one possible example,” Diana said quickly, blushing furiously. “Not necessarily Diver himself. He was just the first example that came to mind.”

“Uh-huh,” Marquez said. She smiled and shook her head. “I’d forget about Mr. Diver. Getting through to the mysterious Mr. Diver is like nailing Jell-O to the wall. Whenever you think maybe something is going on, he’s out of there.”

“You’re probably right,” Diana said neutrally.

“Whereas, say, Sean Valletti is right out front, hairy chest and all,” Marquez said.

“I’m going to tell him no,” Summer said defensively. “I’m
not
going out with Sean. I am totally committed to Seth. I’m going out with him tonight. It’s just…”

“The end-of-August thing?” Marquez suggested. “Maybe you should think about it. I mean, pretty soon Seth goes one way and you…
and
Sean…go another way.”

“Ah.” Diana nodded, understanding. “I get it. Either the summer ends with tearful farewells and broken hearts, or it ends with Summer arriving back home with the coolest guy in her school. Wow.”

“Both of you shut up. I’m not even thinking about that,” Summer said, annoyed and impatient, as she often was when she was lying.

Diana felt strangely exhausted by the day spent with Summer and Marquez. She had the feeling she might have talked too much, revealed too much of herself, and that kind of thing always gave her the willies. Sometimes, like the song said, she gave herself the creeps.

There was a surprise waiting for her when she got back home. A very large white van was parked just down the street. As she drove past it and pulled into her driveway, two people literally leaped from the back, followed by a third a few seconds later.

By the time she had turned off the ignition and opened the door of her little Jetta, a camera was in her face, a light brighter than the sun was in her eyes, and a woman seemed to be trying to force-feed her a microphone.

“Diana! Diana!” the woman shouted. “Are you Diana Olan? I’m Wendy Rackman,
The Last Word.
You are Diana Olan, right?”

Diana squinted into the light and said, “No, I’m Maria Marquez. I’m just a friend of Diana’s.”

The reporter sagged a little. “Oh. Okay, what do you know about this situation between Diana Olan and Senator Merrick?”

Diana shrugged. “Look, I told your producer on the phone I wasn’t sure if I was going to talk to reporters,” she said, abandoning the lame pretense.

“So you
are
Diana Olan?” The reporter came alive again.

“Yes. Now would you go away?” Diana turned to go inside.

“Diana, Ross Merrick says you’re just an embittered former girlfriend of his brother, Adam, and that you tried to extort money from them with a made-up story about an attempted rape.”

Diana stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Obviously the reporter was simply trying to goad her. And just as obviously it had worked.

“If you don’t talk to us, Diana, we have to go with Ross’s version of events. We’ll have no other choice,” the reporter said.

Diana shrugged. “There’s Ross’s version and there’s my version, and then there’s the videotape. So I guess when the cops release the videotape, the truth will be obvious to everyone.”

“Diana, the Merrick family’s lawyers say they can keep that videotape out of court, if this case even goes to trial.”

“What do you mean?” Diana asked sharply.

“Diana,” the reporter said, affecting a sincere tone, “evidence can be suppressed by smart lawyers sometimes. But no one can stop the free press from showing the world the truth. If you give us a copy of the tape, we can have it on the air by tonight. After that, no one will ever be able to suppress the truth.”

“I’m
not
going to let you have the tape,” Diana said firmly. “I told the police I wouldn’t.” She had also promised Adam.

Just then the door opened. Mallory came out, hurriedly made up but camera-ready. “Diana, why don’t you come inside?”

“Ms. Olan, your daughter’s story needs to be told,” the reporter said.

“I’ll handle this,” Diana told her mother, making no attempt to hide her annoyance at the intrusion.

“I think you should talk to me first,” Mallory said.

Diana looked uncertainly from the predatory reporter to her mother. “What, you’re offering to help me? Why?”

“Excuse us a moment,” Mallory told the reporter. She pulled Diana inside and closed the door.

“You don’t really understand what you’ve unleashed, do you?” Mallory asked. “All you’re thinking about now is lashing out. You want to hurt the Merricks, fine, but they won’t just lie down and play dead.”

“What can they do to me?” Diana asked.

“There’s an old saying, Diana, something like, ‘If you strike at a king, make sure you kill him.’ The point being, make sure you don’t leave him a chance to hit back.”

“Are you telling me I
should
let them see the videotape?” Diana asked, incredulous.

Mallory nodded, her face grim. “It’s about who gets to write the story, Diana. The Merricks know how to use the media. They are professionals. Either the Merricks write the story, or
you
write the story. The tape will destroy them.”