Summertime Guests by Wendy Francis

Author:Wendy Francis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graydon House Books
Published: 2021-01-19T14:07:12+00:00

SIXTEEN

Jason wakes to a baggie of cold water resting on his hotel pillow. And a throbbing right hand. Throbbing as in, it feels like his thumb might have fallen off in the middle of the night. He slides his hand out from under his pillow. Nope, the thumb is still attached, but his hand is another story. It’s practically unrecognizable. The knuckles, lined with scratches, are swollen to twice their size, there’s a smear of caked blood on the web of skin between his pointer and middle finger, and in several spots, his skin has turned a shade of dark, midnight blue. Serves me right, he thinks.

When he remembers that today, Thursday, is his actual birthday, he lets out a moan. This is not how things were supposed to go on their vacation. Gwen, he knows, has been planning a harbor cruise for later this afternoon to celebrate the big thirty-three, but given the events of yesterday, she’ll probably threaten to mutiny. Or maybe she’s already canceled their reservation as punishment. Maybe she’ll suggest they head back home this morning, forget about the two more nights they’re booked for at the hotel. Jason wouldn’t blame her.

When he rolls over, she’s curled up on the other side of the bed about as far away as she can get, her back turned to him, her honey-colored hair fanned out across her pillow. It’s the body language of someone who’s still mightily pissed off. Last night when they’d returned to the hotel, she’d fetched an ice pack from the bartender and handed it over, saying “Enjoy it. Because it’s the last time I’m going to be nice to you for the next five hours.”

And Jason had thought Understood. A few cocktails followed, Gwen even agreeing to stick around for the first one. “You told me you were going to get help,” she’d said, slamming down the shot glass on the countertop, as if they might go at it right there. The bartender had sent Jason a look as if to say You’ve met your match tonight, buddy.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. But I will, I promise.”

She shook her head, signaled to the bartender for another and swiveled on the stool to face him. “I haven’t asked because I didn’t want you to think I was checking up on you. But, honey, I can’t keep watching you lose your temper with total strangers like that all the time. It’s insane. Not to mention terrifying.”

“I know.”

He understood she was shaken up—he was, too—but it seemed a little unfair to characterize his random outbursts as events that happened all the time. Especially when he could count the number of times he’d lost his cool in public on one hand. There was the guy at the MFA, obviously. Another loser at a bar in Portsmouth a few months back, who kept spouting off about how great the Confederate flag was; and one or two other episodes, where sketchy guys had been lurking around Gwen. They’d only gotten a little warning punch to the gut, nothing serious.

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