Page 34 of Sunburned

Silence for a moment, followed by a distinctively sexual sigh.“He doesn’t like it when we—”

“Shh…”

The sound of something sliding across the counter. A moan.“He has cameras.”

“He’s asleep.”

I pulled my pillow over my head. It was clear there was going to be no more conversation I needed to hear tonight.

Eleven Years Ago, July

Rosa tilted the blender to her lips and swallowed, passing it to me. “I think it needs more tequila,” she said.

“You always think it needs more tequila,” I teased as I took a sip. My eyes popped and I gave a shudder so dramatic my towel slipped off my shoulders, leaving me in my bikini. “Definitely doesn’t need more tequila.”

She laughed as I scooped my towel off the sticky marble floor of Tyson’s parents’ kitchen and wrapped it around my waist. I held out my red Solo cup and she filled it, peering out the window above the sink. “Who are all these people?” she asked.

Tyson’s Fourth of July party was in full swing, the patio full of revelers in red, white, and blue splashing into the pool in the golden afternoon light. Smoke rose from the grill where Cody was cooking hamburgers and hot dogs, while Tyson held court on the top step in the shallow end, his Coors Light splashing into the pool as he gesticulated wildly with his arms, causing two girls in matching American flag bikinis to giggle.

“I don’t know half of them,” I said, joining her at the window.

“You’re too good for him,” she said, focusing on Tyson.

“We’re twenty-one and it’s summer,” I said, shrugging off her concern just as I had my mom’s. “I can make mature decisions when I’m older.”

“Yas, bitch,” Rosa said, raising her Solo cup to mine.

I wished I were having as much fun as I was pretending to right now. But my mom had recently gone in for her four-week evaluation and been told she needed another round of the wildly expensive experimental treatment as soon as possible. I’d been surprised; she’d seemed to be doing so well. Her energy had been better, she was gaining weight. We’d been gardening again, and had even gone snorkeling and kayaking a couple of times.

Mom had been hesitant about doing the treatment again, preferring that I use the money to complete my education rather than to extend her life by probably only another couple of months. In the end I’d convinced her to try another round, but she felt compelled to at least call my grandparents and thank them. I persuaded her to write a note instead, which, rather than mailing, I tucked into a shoebox in my closet.

I was lying to her for her own good, I told myself again as I restarted the sales deflation program. But I never felt good about it.

My dad, however, hadn’t so much as inquired about my mom since he told me he couldn’t help, so there was no need to lie to him.

“I’m gonna run up to the restroom,” I said. “I’ll meet you out by the pool.”

I padded across the reflective marble floor and mounted the stairs, shivering in the blasting air conditioning as I paused on the landing, considering the cracked door of Tyson’s dad’s office. I was certain I’d left it closed. I froze in place.

Tyson’s parents weren’t coming back until the end of the summer and their computer wasn’t used for anything else, so I’d left the SADEP running on it. It was hidden behind the desktop, but wouldn’t be terribly difficult for anyone with minimal computer skills to locate. Which would be very, very bad.

As I pushed open the door, my heart leaped to my throat.

Ian was seated in the desk chair, the SADEP open on the screens before him, a Bud Light sweating next to the keyboard, his phone in his hand. He swiveled to face me, a grin spreading across his face when he spied me frozen in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot, his pale skin pink from the sun.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“I was just admiring your work.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

“It is yours, isn’t it?” he asked, spinning back to look at the computer. “Tyson couldn’t have designed anything this elegant, and I doubt Cody could, either. Though he must have keyed you into the system.”

“Please,” I said, shaking. “Leave.”

“Audrey,” he whined, drawing back. “I’m hurt. I thought we were friends.”

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I said, my voice strangled.

---