Page 17 of Shameless
“What is a private beach day?” I asked.
“A boating company is going to take us to a private beach where we will have lunch and hang out for a few hours.”
“We?” I grinned.
“You said last night you were game to go with me to all this shit. Change your mind?”
“Not at all. Just making sure you meant me.”
Blake turned and looked back at my friends. “I mean, I can ask each of your friends. Who should get the massage?”
I splashed water on him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but I can’t imagine doing them with anyone else.”
Except for your ex?I wanted to ask. Instead, I smiled and said, “Well, we’re going into town in a few hours, I think. You should come.”
“I don’t want to impose on your girls’ trip.”
“Trust me.” I looked at my friends as they chatted and soaked up the blazing sun. “They won’t mind.”
* * *
Once everyone was ready,we took the resort shuttle into town. If someone had told me that the boy who helped my aunt on her apple farm would spend the day shopping with me ten years into the future, I would have laughed. I always thought he was cocky and only wanted to do what he wanted to do, but the man I was getting to know was showing me a different side. A side I was starting to really like.
At each store we went in, we tried on sombreros or played maracas like we knew what we were doing. The group laughed together, and I was having a fantastic time. Instead of going back to the resort, we ate at a taco place for a late lunch.
Once we ordered, Amanda quizzed Blake. “So, Blake. We hear you live in Texas. Did you grow up in San Antonio too?”
He glanced at me and furrowed his brow. “No. I’m from Houston, and that’s what? Four hours from San Antonio?”
“About three and a half,” I corrected.
“Ah,” Amanda continued her questioning. “And what do you do in Houston for work?”
Blake dunked a chip into the salsa we had on the table. “I own two nightclubs with my brother. One is in Houston and one is in San Francisco.”
Oh wow. I had no idea Blake was a businessman. I hadn’t thought about what he did for a living since the night before had been about our recent relationship failures.
“Really?” Josie cut in. “That’s awesome. Maybe if I’m ever in San Francisco, I can check it out.”
“Yeah, it’s actually a unique concept,” Blake stated. “The clubs are connected to the twenty-four-hour gyms my brother owns. We joke that people can spend all day and night at a Club 24 and not have to go home because each one has food, showers, and pretty much everything a person needs. Hell, some probably don’t go home.”
“Are there beds there?” Taylor wondered.
He shook his head and said around a mouthful of chip, “Nah, but he has everything else.”
Our waitress brought our lunch and my mouth watered as I stared down at the crispy shrimp and avocado tacos. I didn’t consider myself a taco connoisseur, but I knew a good taco when I found one. The best ones stood out usually because of the salsa, and as I took my first bite, the salsa verde popped in my mouth and instantly I wanted five more tacos. The salsa was citrusy and spicy and addicting.
“So, Blake. How’d you decide to have a nightclub attached to a gym?” Josie asked.
He grinned and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I was a bartender for many years and always wanted to open my own bar or club. When I lived in San Francisco with my brother, the idea came to me and we ran with it. It was so successful, we did the same in Houston.”
“Is that why you’re in Houston now?” I inquired. My aunt never spoke of Blake after that summer even though she was best friends with Blake’s mom. It wasn’t as though I’d asked either.
He looked away from my gaze. “Yeah. Houston is where we grew up, but also where my ex lived when we got together. Thought it was meant to be.”
The table fell quiet as a somber wave washed over us. Even though Blake was putting on a smile, I had to imagine his heart was breaking. If it had been me, I would probably have been at home with gallons of ice cream and jugs of vodka while I stayed in my pajamas and didn’t shower for three days. Not in Mexico and trying to have fun.
