Page 48 of Friends with Benefits

‘I want to give you this.’ I hand her a roll of twenty-dollar bills. ‘Please don’t mention it to Jess. It’s for her share of the spa thing today. If you need more, just let me know.’

Sarah takes the roll of notes I hold out to her and smiles, looking from them to me. ‘I can’t accept this, sweet cheeks, much as I’d love a new purse. It’s all on Drew anyway.’ She tucks the roll into the pocket of my jeans, then brings her hands to hold my face. ‘Your momma did such a good job of raising you and Drew, you know that? I mean, you both suck when it comes to reading women. Seriously, it’s like babysitting a bunch of rookies with the two of you and Brooks. But you’re a true sweetheart.’

It’s not often it happens, but I feel my skin heating. Instead of responding to the compliment, I tell her, ‘I know women, Sarah.’

‘Yeah, you all do. That’s why you all mess it up so badly.’ She taps my face with her fingertips. ‘Lucky for you, I’m Cupid.’ As she often does, Sarah turns and struts from the room, her kaftan flowing out behind her. ‘Look out for my arrows, Jakey.’

The woman is a whirlwind, but one that’s great to have around.

I follow her downstairs and find the voices of Drew and Edmond in the garage. The garage door is up and through it I see Kit and Brooks loading fishing gear into the back of Brooks’ truck. Marty is standing at the end of the driveway on his cell phone. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder whether there’s anyone on the other end. Seems he’s always on a call when there’s work to be done.

‘What can I do?’ I ask Drew, adjusting my cap on my head.

‘Put that tackle box there in the truck. We’re going in that and Kit’s daddymobile.’

‘I heard that, man,’ Kit calls from the driveway.

‘Here are your sandwiches,’ Becky says, coming into the garage. She hands the food to Edmond, who opens one cool box to find it full of beers, then opens another identical box to find sandwiches as well as chips and other junk.

‘Pop will be pissed he missed a fishing trip,’ I tell Drew as I head toward the truck.

When we were kids, we used to go fishing with Pop a couple times a year. Millie and Mom would have a girls’ day and Pop, Drew and I would take off with a tent and a camp stove. It was far from extravagant, yet those were some of my best childhood memories, sitting in a small, wooden boat with my old man and my big brother, rocking to the gentle, lolling water.

While Drew was a teenager, I was only a kid, but I remember every detail. The dark green of the trees, the way my stomach would be rumbling by the time we got the stove burning and eventually managed to heat the stew Mom made for us to take. We’d lie in sleeping bags, watching the stars in the night sky, so much clearer than in the city. And we’d talk for hours, about nothing, everything.

As I load the box of tackle into the truck, I think about Jess missing out on those times with her parents. I think about how I’d like to make it up to her and force her to come on a trip like this, the kind that no kid wants to go on because it’s not cool, until you’re there with your old man, thinking there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. I want to give her that.

Right on cue, Jess comes into the garage. ‘Hey, I’m ready, so what did you want to speak to me about?’

I stand, looking over the loud playsuit she is wearing. It nips in at her slim waist and emphasizes the curves of her ass and those fine breasts. Two tassels of feathers and jewels separate the two halves of the neckline. As I stand over her in her flat shoes, I glimpse enough of her cleavage to make me forget why I wanted to talk to her.

‘Jake?’

I clear my throat. ‘You’re a five, babe. I’m not sure about the tassels. And that orange is hurting my eyes.’

She goes to hit my arm but I catch her wrist and bite the tip of her nose.

‘Behave yourself. Drew, give me ten minutes?’

He nods and carries on his conversation with Edmond.

I lead Jess through the house and out to the beach by the hand. ‘Sit with me.’

She mirrors my position at the edge of the water. I roll up my jeans as high as they’ll go and let the water touch my bare feet.

‘Wow, that’s cold,’ Jess says, as her toes get licked by the sea.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.

Her eyes narrow, then she says, ‘A little hungover. Nothing a tough girl like me can’t handle.’

‘That’s good, tough girl. But speaking of that tough-girl attitude, what I’m really asking is if I upset you earlier, with the pancakes?’

Her eyes widen. ‘Upset me?’ She sighs as she turns back out to sea. ‘Oh, Jake, you can be dumb sometimes.’

Well, there’s not much I can say to that. So I don’t. I take a moment, enjoying the fact we can be silent and comfortable together. Also knowing that, eventually, Jess will start talking. She doesn’t do silence when she’s feeling emotional. It’s like she thinks if she keeps moving and talking, her own thoughts can’t catch her.

‘My dad put blueberries in my pancakes as far back as I can remember. He used to do it for Mum too. I remember there were times he’d scrap an entire pancake because the smile didn’t stay in place. And this one time, one of the blueberries popped, I guess under the heat of the pan. It was the eye of the face. And he put the pancake in front of my mum and he said, ‘It’s crying because you’re so beautiful, it hurts.’’

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