Page 40 of Dead of Summer

ORLA

Orla tilts the rest of her drink into her mouth and drops the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

She’ll need another. She doesn’t know if she is more upset about the engagement, a stunningly public show of commitment from a Clarke, or the fact that David is up there pretending that he doesn’t have a care in the world.

She watches the three of them descend from the gazebo in a flurry of handshakes and pats on the back. A white-hot fury crawls its way up her chest at the injustice of it all. Rich daddy’s boy gets to move on with his life when she so clearly has not. And won’t.

Or maybe he isn’t so happy. David has a strange tension in his jaw, like he is trying to keep himself calm.

But his forehead looks damp. His eyes dart around the crowd like he’s trapped.

Orla remembers that look. A group of well-wishers surround the couple, blocking her view.

When they finally disperse, she finds David alone and moving toward the bar, his face frozen in an uneasy smile.

From the corners of her eyes Orla sees the heads turn toward her as she snakes through the crowd, pushing rudely up to the bar and standing beside him.

She raises her hand above the bar, beckoning to the bartender.

“Another gin and tonic,” she calls out, ignoring the groans of the people she cut in front of.

She doesn’t have anything to lose anymore.

“Orla,” David says. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He says it louder than he must have intended, and she wonders if he’s a little drunk just like she is. Maybe he’d had something before, to get himself through the engagement.

“You invited me, you idiot, when you showed up at my house wasted.” She lifts her glass up to his, sloshing some over the side. It falls onto the front of his jacket, turning a patch of it dark. “Fun night, the way it ended wasn’t exactly what I’d expected.”

He glances anxiously around him. “Orla, please.”

“No worries. It’ll dry clear,” she says flippantly, pretending he is talking about the stain.

He leans in and drops his voice, giving her a warning look. “Orla, can we not?’?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to congratulate my old friend on his upcoming nuptials.” David looks furtively around the bar. His neck is turning bright red against his white collar.

“You don’t have to go through with it, you know,” she stage-whispers.

“Not here,” he says angrily, pulling away from the bar. “If you have something you need to say, let’s go talk somewhere quiet.” He grips her by the arm and steers her forcefully toward the dark end of the lawn where it dips down to the beach.

“I don’t have long.” David glances back at the party. “Faith will be looking for me.”

Orla ignores him and looks into her cup. It is nearly empty now, half of it having spilled on the walk down to the beach. “Ah, remember gin and tonics? That summer, before everything went to shit?”

He cuts her off.

“What is it that you want?”

She looks out toward those horrible dark waves, hugging herself. “I’ve seen her in New York. More than once.”

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. But his features have shifted, and she can see that he is afraid.

“I see her everywhere. But every time I realize I’m wrong. It’s not her at all. It’s just my guilty conscience. I can’t escape what we did. What I did.”

David steps away from her, rubbing his neck with his hand and glancing back in the direction of the party. “Is that right? You might want to talk to someone, Orla, that sounds a bit psycho—”

“Looks like Geoffrey’s off to celebrate on his yacht,” she interrupts him, her voice dripping with meaning. David pales.

“He probably has a meeting out there. You know Dad, always working.”

She nearly laughs. “God, you are always protecting him, aren’t you. You just can’t help it.”

“He’s my father.”

She lowers her voice. “You know what I mean.”

“Is that all?” He glances back at the party.

“Off to his new hobby, then?” Orla says. “I don’t think you ever meant the boat when you said that, though, did you? You always knew what he was up to with his friends.”

“Stop it. That’s enough,” David snaps. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you think you saw. We were children.”

“Oh, we were old enough, though.” Orla presses on. “You knew, didn’t you? All along. You knew what was happening to her with those disgusting guys.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he says quietly. “She didn’t have any money. She said she needed help.”

“Help her by what ? Bringing her as an offering to Geoffrey?”

“That’s not what it was. He was going to hire her on to help her, like a little job working on the yacht.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Dad isn’t some pedophile.”

“Really? Well, his friends certainly are. Maybe he’s just a fucking creepy middleman. But whatever it is, if he weren’t Geoffrey Clarke, he would have to pay for what he did to her.”

“Fuck you, Orla.” David spins back, his eyes flashing.

“Oh, big Clarke man anger coming out there,” Orla spits. “Can pretend to be so civilized, but you can’t hide from it, can you? Maybe Alice saw you for what you really were. Maybe that’s why she wanted to leave.”

“I never wanted to be like him. You know that,” David says. “I always thought I would do something different. But it wasn’t that easy in the end.”

She ignores him. “I messed up. In so many ways. We should have helped her. We lied, and I feel like I will pay for it forever.” She thinks she sees a little boat out there, tossing around on the waves.

“What is your point?”

“I’m going to tell the police I lied.” She’d been turning it over in her mind since the night of David’s visit to her house.

“What would be the point of that?” He snorts.

“I can’t hurt Henry more than I already have. It’s messed up. He’s going to take the fall for another girl. But you probably knew that already, didn’t you?”

“No.” His hand clamps onto her wrist. “You can’t do that. I’ll ruin you.”

“How?” She laughs. “My career is shit. I see a dead girl everywhere.” She tugs away from him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. Your father already ruined my life. Pathetic how you can’t even see that he’s ruined yours.”

“No, Orla. You won’t. You signed an NDA, remember?”

The NDA had arrived the morning after her betrayal.

It was delivered personally by a lawyer who stood just inside her front door as she took the pages into her hands.

Orla had looked at it queasily. It was a written promise not to divulge any of the details from the night of the party.

But what did it matter anymore? Alice was gone.

She’d signed it silently and handed it back, watching it disappear with the car down the drive, unsure of what she had done.

“None of it matters, don’t you understand?”

“You might not have anything to protect, but I do. I’m not about to let you go and fuck things up for me, you selfish—” His hand drops from her arm.

“What. The. Fuck?” A look of horror has transformed his face, dropping his jaw. David raises his hand and points past her shoulder.

Far past the beach to where the shore curves around. Orla follows the line of his finger down the shoreline. Just past the peak of Orla’s own house through a tangle of trees is Alice Gallo’s house, a light flickering in the upstairs window.

“What is happening?” He clutches his head with his hands, stunned.

Her heart thumps. Orla squints as it blinks in and out. Come over. Emergency. But before Orla can process it, David starts running toward Alice’s house.