Hydraulic Level Five (1) (29 page)

Before I could finish the sentiment Samuel slid the door open, and I witnessed her face shift from angry harpy to beatific angel in a split second. I shuddered. He warily eyed both of us, probably relieved to see we hadn’t dragged each other out of the Campervan by the hair.
Give it time…give it time.

As we rattled along to Rocky Mountain National Park, I wondered if he knew just how manipulative Caroline Ortega was.

I also wondered if there wasn’t the tiniest bit of truth to what she’d said.

Chapter 14: Aggressive Swimming

When river conditions are treacherous,
paddlers should concentrate all energy on getting to safety.

“F
RIEND
B
EHIND
T
HE
F
OREHEAD
?”

The tabloid headline flashed neon arrows at me from the magazine rack, innocently nestled among a rainbow of candy bars and packs of gum. On the front page was a picture from Samuel’s
After Hours Show
appearance. “I’m a Naughty Nacken” was Sharpied across his forehead, and he grinned like a fool on the red guest couch.

Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Samuel and Caroline weren’t nearby, I pulled the magazine from the rack and flipped it open. Nerves rippled through me as I expected to see my name printed in bold, black letters. I scanned the article:

…Whether Cabral’s stunt was harmless payback or a declaration of something more, one thing is for certain—long-time friend and agent Caroline Ortega is the wielder of the marker.

“Oh, it was definitely Caro,” an unnamed source close to the duo asserted. “She and Samuel have that kind of relationship. They’re very good together.”

Unnamed source my lily-white tail. That statement came from Caroline, I’d bet my life on it. I read on, fingers crushing the magazine edges:

…Since rumors about the Kingsley-Cabral split first began to circulate, Ortega’s name has repeatedly surfaced as a possible romantic interest to Cabral. “Samuel and Caro go way back.”

“Are you going to pay for that?” The clerk glared at me from beneath a ball cap with a cartoon chicken on the front.

I added the crumpled magazine to my iced tea and bag of preservative-packed popcorn that would make my mother cringe, swiped my card, and stuffed it under my arm before anyone saw. When I passed the trash can in the parking lot, I disposed of the disgusting piece of print. The vile thing belonged in the landfill.

“Problems with the magazine?” Hector flung an arm over my shoulders as we headed back to the Campervan.

“Nothing that hasn’t been right under my nose for a few years now. But I’m beginning to realize just how skewed the truth can become when someone is intentionally skewing it.”

Hector chuckled, shaking me. “You’ve secretly read the tabloids for ages, haven’t you, Kaye? I bet you have one of those creepy hidden rooms covered in magazine clippings. Any day now, the FBI’s going to bust you.” He flicked a pair of shades up from his eyes and winked at me.

“Shut up.”

Hector ruffled my hair, earning a yelp from me. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

I held my head high and climbed into the vehicle that would carry me to an impending night of hell on earth. On the bright side, there’d be marshmallows for the fire and brimstone.

Our campsite was a grassy clearing on the upper-east side of the Rocky Mountain National Park, surrounded by lush forest, hiking trails, and a creek so clear, an array of rocks and shells was visible along its bed. We were isolated. Our nearest neighbor was a half-mile up the road at a larger campground boasting a bath house. Our grounds had a parking spot for the camper, a rustic rock pit for a fire, and nothing more. Danita had, yet again, reminded me to pack toilet paper.

It was already four thirty when we arrived. Setting up camp was easy with nine pairs of hands. Cassady had Betty’s canopy unfurled in no time, and we went to work pitching tents, unfolding lawn chairs, and finding dry wood for our campfire. The minute we finished, the boys grabbed a sports equipment bag like they’d just been released to grade school recess to “hit some balls outta the park.”

Danita hopped into the game. Caroline dragged a blanket over to their impromptu ball field, along with a thick manuscript that was probably work-related. Molly and I opted to keep the fire stoked and babysit the foil pockets of potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, onions, chicken, and loads of butter we’d thrown together for dinner.

I leaned back in my lawn chair, enjoying the last bit of sunshine before it would disappear over the trees.

Molly fanned herself. “My oh my, we have a fine-looking set of friends, ya know?”

I followed her gaze to the field, seeing what she saw. Santiago peeled off his T-shirt. Even from far away, I could tell he was giving us a show—flexing his biceps, stretching his torso. He wasn’t the only one. Hector pulled his T-shirt up and wiped his face, revealing a nice set of abs. Hmm, I’d never noticed those before. Angel hadn’t even bothered with a shirt. He swept Danita into a sweaty embrace, guffawing as she dug her hands into his chest and pushed him away with a grimace. Even Cassady had an arm lazily resting against his abs, shorts hanging low on his hips.

“Yeah, I guess they’re pretty hot. It’s weird to look at them that way, though—kind of like checking out your brothers.”

“Oh please, Kaye, you’d have to be a freaking blind bat not to notice those men are gorgeous! And my gosh, how is Hector still single?”

I laughed, even though I’d just wondered the same thing. “Fine, yes, they are gorgeous. I feel like ‘Boys of Summer’ should be blaring somewhere over our heads.”

I refused to look for Samuel. I was scared stiff I’d find him flirting with his Manhattan hussy, beaming at her from under his ball cap the way he used to with me when I attended his ball games, from little league to varsity. Each game, I’d sit above the third base line near the home team dugout so he could easily find me, even from left field. When the team trotted in from the diamond to bat, he’d give me a quick wave, or a wink, or even just a smile, no matter how crappy the inning had been.

Cassady bent over, slowly picking something up from the ground, flashing his tail feathers like a strip-teasing peacock. I laughed, but it became too much for Molly.

“You can manage without me, can’t you?” she twittered, jogging toward Cassady without waiting for an answer.

Sure, I could manage. What was there to watching food cook? Piece of cake…

I checked the packets of chicken and veggies.

Kept myself from glancing at Samuel’s trim torso as it twisted when he swung at the ball.

Tossed another log on the fire.

Never once checked out Samuel’s muscled legs from years of running as he stood on the sidelines, hands on hips, waiting for his next up-to-bat.

Dug a lemonade out of the cooler and pressed it to my forehead. Even in a tank top and shorts, it was awfully hot outside.

Didn’t even ogle the tell-tale front of his black mesh shorts as he took his turn…pitching.
Crap, he caught me that time!
I turned away before my face flamed red as a firecracker.

Danita snorted behind me. I hadn’t even noticed she’d left the game and returned to the campfire, I’d been so busy
not
paying attention.

“Kaye, honey, quit sexing up my brother with your eyeballs from a distance and join the fun. I swear, every time you turn your back he’s gaping at you, anyway.”

I snorted rather unattractively. “Actually, everyone’s gaping at me. It’s suppertime, they are hungry men, and this is where the food’s cooking. Need I say more?”

“I
wish
you’d meant that as a euphemism,” she sighed. “You are a hopeless, hopeless girl. Apparently I either have to kidnap you or get you tipsy in order for you to take any initiative at all.”

“Please don’t. The food is ready, anyway. Should I go get the others?”

“Allow me.” Dani put her fingers to her lips and loosed the most ear-shattering, shrill whistle I’d ever heard. The game stopped. She waved the crew over to the campfire, taking charge. “Go hang out with your boy, Kaye. Cut loose, have fun. Relax.” She leaned in, pecked my cheek and whispered, “Kick that cliff-hucking floozy back to the Atlantic Seaboard.”

I grinned and saluted. Grabbing two paper plates, I made my way to Samuel’s side—the one not occupied by Caroline.

“Good game, Cabral.” I tossed him a plate.

“Sorry you missed it, Trilby. First time ever, I think.”

“Hey, I watched from the back of the bleachers.” I nudged his body, then wiped my arm, grimacing. “I forgot you sweat like a cold beer on a hot day.”

“You never minded before.” Wrapping his arm around me, he pulled me to his side and plunked his damp, smelly ball cap on my head. I screeched, but left it where it was.

Caroline mumbled something about regressing to junior high.
That’s right, woman. I was there every…single…game.

I dished up my plate.

“Hand sanitizer.” Molly traded my plate for a bottle as we went through the line. I pumped sanitizer into my hand and turned around to offer it to Samuel, only to find Hector behind me.

“Hey, Kaye, I’ve got two lawn chairs all set up with our names on them. Whaddya want to drink?”

I peered over Hector’s shoulder, looking for Samuel. He and Caroline spread a blanket across the ground and dropped their things. Jealousy churned as he handed her one of the drinks he’d pulled from the cooler. Pushing the ball cap off of my head, I tossed the dirty, stinky thing in the grass next to the tent.

“Kaye? Drink?” Poor Hector grinned at me, pulling my focus back to him.

“Ah…a lemonade. Thanks, Hector.”

Hector retrieved it as I claimed one of his lawn chairs. He brushed the cold lemonade across my arm, making me jump.

“Did I scare you,
mamacita?”
Hector playfully winked.

“Kaye doesn’t like it when sweaty beverages touch her arm,” Samuel retorted from the blanket, not even glancing up as he pushed his food around with his plastic fork.

I ignored his jibe and took the drink from Hector with a smile.

The baseball talk continued for a good half hour as we settled under Betty’s canopy, devouring our food. Angel and Samuel swapped glory days stories about the state championship team. We laughed when Angel did his free-wheeling impression of my dad.

“Hey, Cabral, do you remember when Coach had you run endurance sprints for three practices straight because you had Kaye out after curfew? It was the only time anyone ever missed post-practice chakra cleansing.”

“Yes.” Samuel glanced at me from the blanket where he reclined, long legs crossed, elbows propping him up. “I thought my legs were going to fall off. Never had her out past curfew again.”

I frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t remember that.”

“I never told you about it.”

“Why not?”

A sheepish grin spread over his face. “Because you’d have gotten angry with Tom and ended up grounded for three weeks instead of two.” Dad’s version of grounding was forced meditation in lieu of date nights.

Angel chortled. “And Cabral was a pissy
perrita
whenever you were grounded. It’s like he was grounded, too. He was a helluva hitter, though, when he was pissy. Do you remember that grand slam he hit out of the ball park at the state championship game? Man!”

Samuel stiffened, his jaw grinding. His eyes darted to mine. No one except Danita knew that the state championship was when he promised to marry me.

“I didn’t know you were a star hitter.” Caro peered up at Samuel with shining eyes. I looked away as she snuggled closer to him on the blanket, leaning against his torso.

“Do I ever remember that hit!” Molly chimed in. “I still have the hearing loss as a souvenir, after Kaye shrieked in my ear.”

I tapped my left ear and winked. “So we match.”

“That was one of the best days of my life, pummeling Florence.” Angel ground his fist into his palm. “And then the stands rushed the field after we won? It’s a good thing the season was over, Cabral, or Kaye would have put you on the DL when she tackled you.”

Samuel shifted Caroline and stood up, stretching his legs. My arms wrapped around my knees as I too grew uncomfortable. Danita’s sharp gaze swept over me, then Samuel.

“Hey, Angel,” she interrupted, “do you remember when we were fifteen and borrowed your mom’s minivan? You were so freaked out to be driving without a license. I bet she never found out about that…”

As the conversation turned from baseball to other memories (and thirty-year-old Angel begged Danita not to tell his mom about the minivan), Samuel visibly relaxed. I breathed out, not even realizing I’d held air in. After that, the night was an easy, laid back jaunt through Angel and Danita’s years together. When the sun set, we stirred the campfire to life and situated logs and blankets around the fresh pile of lumber, enjoying the orange glow and flickering shadows.