Part 6 (1/2)
”That's what I mean. It's perfect! NO ties, no commitment, no big deal. Aren't you tired of being a virgin?”
”Sometimes. But I've waited this long, I want to at least start out with someone I care about.”
”What's not to care about?” said Sam, watching Jack's body as he and Buddy approached. ”Any- way, he's really nice.”
”We are going to Savannah-today,” Emma said firmly.
After lunch, Sam and Jack decided to walk down the beach. Emma and Buddy stayed behind and talked. Buddy was from Miami, and his mother was Cuban. So that's where he gets that exotic allure, thought Emma. He and Jack were both at the University of Florida in Miami, and had come north to Daytona to enjoy the hedonism of spring break in a collegiate hot spot.
”I wish you'd think of staying over,” Buddy said, grasping Emma's hand and running his thumb softly over her knuckles, ”You won't be in Savannah in time to see anything, anyway.”
”We have other people depending on us to keep to our schedule, though,” said Emma, giving his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to delve into her bag. She couldn't deny that his touch had sent a s.h.i.+ver of desire through her, but it re- minded her of Kurt, awaiting her arrival on Sunset Island.
Emma found her watch and was distressed to see that it was almost two o'clock. Where was Sam?
”If you change your mind, I'd be happy to take you to dinner,” Buddy offered. ”I thought you were beautiful the first moment I laid eyes on you yesterday.” He looked her straight in the eye.
”Oh Buddy, that's so sweet, but . . . look- there they are!”
Emma had spied Sam and Jack strolling unhur- riedly near the water. They had their arms around each other, and as Emma watched, they kissed languidly. Right out in public-that Sam!
Feeling like a small yapping dog trying to herd some sheep, Emma finally managed to get Sam and their beach gear up to the car, with Buddy and Jack in tow. Emma allowed Buddy a brief kiss, then swung into the driver's seat, and jangled the keys until Sam broke off her pa.s.sionate embrace with Jack and hopped in the pa.s.senger side.
Emma steeled herself for criticism, but Sam was uncharacteristically quiet as they wheeled toward the interstate.
”Thanks, Emma,” Sam finally said serenely.
”Nothing Jack and I could have done would have been as romantic as that walk on the beach before driving off into the sunset.”
”You're not mad?” Emma asked.
”Nope. He was actually too nice a guy to love and leave. Guess I'm getting addicted to unful- filled prophecy.”
Emma tuned in a cla.s.sical station, and before long, Sam was snoozing as Brahms took them north in the waning light.
Carrie braced herself against the wall of the toilet stall and stared wonderingly into the vortex of the emptying bowl. The back of her throat was burning, and her eyes stung with tears. But the sky hadn't opened, thunder hadn't rolled, and lightning hadn't struck her down. She got control of her breathing, wiped her eyes, and hurried from the stall.
I don't ever have to do this again, she thought, but oddly, she felt a sense of accomplishment- she hadn't thought she could do it at all.
She was toweling off her face at the sink when the door opened and Sarah Lovett breezed in.
Sarah gave her a knowing smile, and Carrie felt that she and the willowy girl had a shared secret.
She returned to her room feeling like a different person from the one who'd left only a few minutes ago. I'm definitely not going to make a habit of this, she a.s.sured herself. But she had to admit she took satisfaction in throwing the donut box into the trash, knowing all that grease and sugar were no longer in her body.
Her mind groped for an exact word to express the feeling, and finally settled on powerful.
Sam didn't wake up until they stopped for gas.
She offered to drive, but Emma said she felt up to it, and Savannah was only another hour away.
They spent the time speculating on how Carrie was doing, and tossing around ideas for the big party they'd been planning since Christmas.
In Savannah they stopped for directions to the D'Urbanville, a grand old Southern hotel where Emma knew her mother's friends stayed when they were in town. She figured she and Sam deserved some luxury at least every other night.
The hotel had a gracious circular drive, with a canopy and a uniformed doorman. Azaleas bloomed profusely in every direction, their bril- liant magenta accentuated by the hotel's subtle lighting. Emma left the car to be unloaded by the bellman and parked by the valet. With Sam rubbernecking at her heels, she made her way through the richly appointed lobby to negotiate a room with the desk clerk.
”We'd like a suite if you have one available- with a hot tub, if possible.”
”Certainly. Will you be paying by credit card?”
”Yes, please,” said Emma, turning to Sam.
”Sam, you have the card.”
”No, I don't.” There was a moment of stunned silence before Sam blubbered, ”Didn't you pick it up when you signed us out this morning?”
”You left it at the desk last night?” Emma intoned incredulously.
”Well, how should I know? I've never had a credit card.”
The clerk was now regarding them somewhat doubtfully.
Emma reached into her purse and said crisply, ”I do have another card.”
The clerk set to making their arrangements as Emma fumed in silence and Sam stood by deject- edly.
”I'm really, really sorry, Emma. I feel so stupid.”
”It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't my father's card,” Emma admitted. ”The last thing I want is to have to call him about this.”
As the clerk handed over their receipt and keys, Emma's eyes scanned the lobby.
”Come on,” she said, grabbing Sam by the arm.
”We can think this through in the bar. I don't know about you, but I need a gla.s.s of wine.”
Sam snuggled her shoulders deeper into the hotel's voluptuous pillows and tried to concen- trate on her book. She hadn't been able to get into the acting book Danny had loaned her, something called The Method, but had thought this gothic romance would surely whisk her into dreamland, or at least fantasyland. But her thoughts kept returning to Emma. Emma wasn't acting like Emma. Didn't she know it was Sam who was supposed to do crazy things?
The credit card crisis had been resolved when Emma found she had the receipt from the motel, and therefore the card number. She'd used the phone in the bar to dial the toll-free number for reporting lost or stolen cards. They'd both been relieved when there had been no need to get in touch with Brent Cresswell after all.
But the incident had gotten Emma back on the subject of her screwed-up family. She had or- dered a gla.s.s of wine in the bar, and a second to take with her into the dining room, where she'd barely touched the small Caesar salad she'd or- dered for dinner. Sam, who had pigged out as usual, had opted for an after-dinner walk through the hotel gardens, saying she'd meet Emma upstairs for a dip in the hot tub.
The gardens were beautiful, and Sam had lingered there. When she'd returned to the suite, she made straight for the tiled solarium, where she could hear the soft bubbling of the steaming tub. She had found Emma climbing groggily out of the tub.
”So how's the water?” Sam had inquired gaily just as Emma slid to a sitting position on the bench outside the tub, then leaned forward to let her head rest on her knees.
”Oh Sam, I don't feel so good,” had come Emma's weak and m.u.f.fled voice.
Sam had placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, which burned to the touch.