He shook his head and sat upright, disengaging his limbs from hers. The sense of desolation she felt as he removed himself was so intense, and such a new sensation for her, that she almost enjoyed it.
They turned off the highway onto a smaller road. Goats foraged by the roadside. The hills in the distance were impossibly green. Coconut palms swayed in the front yards of half-finished concrete bungalows. The villages were collections of a few buildings at a crossroads. They drove through one, then another and another. Groups of men stood or sat in knots in front of tin-roofed shacks with wares displayed inside, the signs advertising fresh fish and bananas. The trees were heavy with strange fruit, and the air smelled like burning. Kate looked at Lucas, who gazed out the window with wide eyes. She wondered how often he’d been outside the state of New Hampshire, or even out of Belle River. Surely he would fall into her arms tonight. How could he not, in a place as lush as this? She would show him how sweet life could be.
Finally, they turned onto a steep gravel road and headed uphill. At the top of the rise, wrought-iron gates stood ajar. They drove through them into the cobbled courtyard of a large, graceful white house. A covered veranda faced a wide lawn that sloped down to the palm-fringed swimming pool, and beyond it, the sparkling sea. Hearing the sound of the vehicle, a middle-aged Jamaican couple came down off the veranda and waved. As her friends spilled stiffly out of the taxi after their uncomfortable ride, Kate introduced them to Ethelene and Samuel, the caretakers who ran the place. Samuel wanted to know where to put the luggage—which bags in which rooms? Kate told him not to worry about it for now—pile everything in the living room and they’d work it out later—because the first order of business was jumping in the pool.
“My only request is, keep the rum punches coming,” she said.
“Rum punches coming right up,” Samuel said.
Ethelene and Samuel had a son named Marlon, the same age as Kate, whom she’d known forever. He was tall and skinny, with a wide smile and connections that could get Kate whatever she wanted. Ethelene said her son was going into town and could stop by the grocery store, so they should place their orders. Kate wrote up a grocery list and whispered in Marlon’s ear about the special-delivery items she was looking for. He wanted her to front the cash. Groceries and alcohol could be charged to Keniston’s monthly bill at the store in town, but not the drugs. So Kate took up a discreet collection, and everybody contributed greenbacks except Jenny, who claimed she’d never once tried any illegal substance and wouldn’t break her perfect streak, not even for the extra-powerful Jamaican weed. Especially not for that: God knew what it would do to her virgin head.
“Kate, you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a bad idea,” Jenny said.
“We’re not in Turkey,” Kate replied. “Weed is like a sacrament here, you don’t get arrested for it. And if we do a little X, maybe, or the local equivalent, nobody will be the wiser.”
“I’m not only talking about getting arrested—although yeah. But how do you know what this stuff will do to your head?”
“Relax, babe, when it comes to pill-popping and A-bombing, I’m an old pro,” Kate said, and gave Jenny a big wet kiss on the cheek. “Loosen up. Drink something with an umbrella in it, go to bed with your makeup on. Live dangerously. At the very least, don’t queer my vibe.”
If Kate was to have any chance of claiming Lucas, everybody had to throw the rules by the wayside—everybody, including Jenny. Jenny brought along a boy of her own, and yet Kate caught her eyeing Lucas with that hungry look, the same one that shone out of Kate’s own eyes when she gazed at him. God, how could they still be caught up in a stupid conflict over a boy? They were above that. Kate thought that but she also thought Hands off my man, bitch.
There was talk of going down to the beach. By walking to the edge of the lawn, taking the dirt path out onto the cliffs, and leaning over, you could see it: a perfect crescent of white sand, despoiled by legions of tourists from the nearby cottage colony who pitched their umbrellas and left their garbage. To access the beach, Samuel would drive them back down the steep road they’d just come up, but nobody had the stomach for that after their spine-jolting journey. Instead, they spent the waning afternoon getting blind drunk on rum punches by the swimming pool. Kate cuddled with Griff on his lounge chair, but it was a ruse, a distraction. She planned to get him comfortable, then fob him off on Aubrey. The sun began descending on the horizon, and she decided to make her move, rising idly and diving into the kidney-shaped pool. She swam over to where Aubrey stood looking out at the view in a borrowed teensy bikini that belonged to Kate. The swimsuit revealed Aubrey’s figure in its glorious gauntness, each rib countable, hip bones protruding, long, spidery limbs—like a swinging London model from the sixties, or a concentration-camp survivor.
“Having fun?” Kate asked softly.
“Sure.” Aubrey’s voice rang hollow.
“Are you?”
“It’s paradise here.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Kate said, glancing over her shoulder, then leaning closer. “I know you’re still grieving your mom, hon. I brought you here to make you feel better. This trip is all about you. I have a special present for you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Griff. I know you like him, don’t deny it.”
“C’mon, Kate. Don’t tease me. Griff’s with you.”
“Not really. We’ve always been more friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. I care about him, and I want to see him with somebody who makes him happy. I think that person might be you.”
“Yeah, how does he feel about that?” Aubrey asked skeptically.
“Well, I know he likes you. He has his eye on you.”
“He doesn’t act like it.”
“He’s shy.”
“Really?” Aubrey asked, with the tilt of an eyebrow.
“Really. Go talk to him. He wants to get to know you better.”
“I don’t know, Kate.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a wimp, I guess. Afraid of rejection. I don’t have a clear shot with you in the picture.”
“But I’m giving him to you.”
“That takes care of the girl rules. I won’t feel bad on your account. But you can’t give a person like a present. He’s into you, still.”
“I promise you, he’s done with me. He wants someone steadier. He needs that. Seriously, I said, go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. Come on, now. No time like the present,” Kate said.
Aubrey hesitated.