Page 2 of The Summer that Ruined Everything

CHAPTER 2

I n the morning, Cal crept down the servant’s staircase, hoping to make it out the back door before anyone spotted him. He’d rescue his loafers from the approaching high tide, then go for a walk down the beach. If he timed it right, he could return mid-morning, con the housekeeper into feeding him brunch, and disappear until dinner.

It had been his goal from a young age to avoid as much interaction with his parents as he could manage. Sometimes he was successful, sometimes not.

Today, he was unsuccessful.

“Calloway.” Judith Buchanan’s voice rang out in the rear foyer, and he froze with his hand halfway to the doorknob. Holding in a sigh, he let his hand fall to his side and turned.

“Good morning, Mother.” He pasted on a pleasant smile.

She squinted at him from the doorway into the kitchen. “Where are you going? Flora is serving breakfast.”

“I was just...stepping outside for a minute,” he said. “To check out the weather. It?—“

“It’s sunny. You can investigate further after our meal. Come take your place.” She waved him towards her, and he ducked his head and complied, edging past her into the kitchen.

Flora nodded at him from the stove, where she was flipping a pancake. An impressive stack rested on a plate beside her.

“Morning, Flora,” he said. He swooped up next to her and kissed her on the cheek. Then he lifted the lid off a plate to the side and snatched a piece of bacon.

“Calloway, manners,” his mother said. “And where are your shoes?”

Silently, he continued on to the dining room, munching on the bacon and wishing his mother didn’t have the power to make him feel like a grade school kid again with just the tone of her voice. He wasn’t that young, awkward, kid drowning in shame anymore. At nearly twenty-one, he was an adult. He had been living on his own — sort of — for years. He was going to graduate college next spring and enter the real world. He was Phi Beta Kappa and a Fulbright Scholar. He had made future business contacts at Harvard that would make his father proud if he’d pay attention long enough to be aware of them.

None of that erased the shame, it seemed. He wondered if anything ever would.

He hid a greasy hand behind his back as he circled the end of the table and took his seat, his back to the windows. He’d often wished, as a child, that he could sit facing the windows, be able to see the spectacular view of the ocean beyond, but instead he’d spent every meal of countless summer vacations forced to count the stripes on the wallpaper of the opposite wall. He’d never counted much higher than a hundred before his eyes had crossed and he’d lost his place, so it remained an unsolved mystery to this day.

His father looked up from his newspaper and frowned at Cal over his reading glasses.

“Good morning, Father,” Cal said. He picked up his yellow linen napkin and shook it into his lap. Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and held up the blue, gold, and cream porcelain carafe. “Would you like a refill?”

“Yes, fine.” Theodore Buchanan dropped his gaze back to the paper. “What are your plans for the day?”

Cal hated this part. Any meal with his parents inevitably included an interrogation: What was he doing? Was it productive? Who would he be with? Who were their parents? What business were they in?

He topped off his father’s coffee and set the carafe back on its dish with a clink . “Not sure,” he said. “I was thinking of getting some air, and then going into town.”

His mother strode into the room, followed by Flora, who was carrying two platters. Judith settled into her chair opposite Theodore and snapped her napkin into her lap as Flora set the platters on the table and began to serve up pancakes and bacon.

“I’m having lunch with Alan Richardson at noon,” Theodore said. He folded the paper and set it aside. “You can join me.”

“A lunch?” Cal asked, soaking his pancakes with syrup. “What for?”

“Include Margie,” Judith said. “And I’ll join you as well.”

“I will,” Theodore said, ignoring Cal. “We’ll go to the club.”

Cal perked up. If they were going to the club, maybe they’d golf, and it wouldn’t be a total waste of an afternoon.

“Margie will like that,” Judith said. “I’ll call her to confirm.”

“I need to be there?” Cal asked again.

“Yes, that’s the point. It’s time for you to develop an investment portfolio.” Theodore smeared butter between his pancakes. “Your trust will be released in August, and you’ll need a way to manage that money, make it work for you. You’ll want Alan Richardson’s firm to do it.”

Right. The Trust.

He’d been looking forward to getting his hands on that money for a while. Money meant freedom. Of course, he’d just do whatever he was advised, since the trust wasn’t bottomless, but it was a start. Something.

His parents began to discuss the morning news then, and Cal tuned them out, preferring to focus on his meal. When he’d polished off the last piece of bacon and drank the last drops of coffee, he dropped his napkin on his plate and rose from his chair.

They barely registered his see you at lunch , and he gratefully slipped away.

He bounded down the staircase to the beach, his feet slapping on the weathered wood. He jumped the last few steps onto the sand and landed with a whumpf.

The beach in front of the Buchanan estate, the private stretch that was theirs, was empty. Completely empty. Not a shoe in sight. Cal frowned. He was sure he’d left the loafers just above the high tide line. Tide hadn’t yet reached its peak, so they should still be here. Unless?—

Cal looked to the east. Fifty yards away, the beach was far less empty. A large group of people were lounging on towels and chairs. A transistor radio played rock and roll music that carried down the beach. Coolers of beverages and food were scattered haphazardly around. A handful of guys were throwing a football.

In the center of it all, sprawled on a mint green plastic lounger, was Jack.

Cal swallowed. Memories of their meeting the night before seemed almost like a dream. A fantasy he’d cooked up while in his bed, his hand down his pants and his breath coming in gasps. That morning, while shaving, he’d decided that the meeting had happened, but he’d imagined the flirting. That part he’d exaggerated in his mind, a wish that would never —and should never — come true.

It seemed his conclusion was likely. At the moment, there were three women hanging off of Jack. He was kissing one in a pink bikini, one in green sat in his lap playing with his curls, while a third, in yellow, sat on the sand at his feet and rested her hand against his thigh. He certainly didn’t look like the sort of person who would have been flirting with Cal .

Cal wasn’t disappointed. It would be ridiculous to be disappointed in something he’d only imagined.

Jack broke the kiss with Pink and looked west, his gaze immediately falling on Cal. He grinned.

“Hey,” he shouted, waving.

Cal hesitantly raised a hand and waved back.

“Come on over,” Jack called, beckoning with a long, pale arm.

With a short pep talk to himself about not acting like an idiot this time, Cal loped across the sand. Jack watched him approach, still grinning.

Cal was imagining, surely, the way Jack scanned him from head to toe, his gaze lingering a moment on his tanned calves. More wishful thinking.

“Hi,” he said, when he reached the group. Several people looked him over, but most ignored him entirely.

Jack whispered something to Pink, and she gracefully stood from his lap. She went to a cooler, pulled out a tall can of Gansett, and crossed to meet Cal. She handed him the can with a smile.

He smiled back, and then, as if it were pre-arranged, Green and Yellow got to their feet and the three girls ran for the ocean. Cal watched them go, and then turned back to Jack.

“Pull up a chair,” Jack said, gesturing around.

“I shouldn’t,” Cal replied. The can of beer was cold in his hand, and he was tempted to drink it and soothe his dry throat. But it was barely nine in the morning.

“Who says?” Jack winked. “Come on, sit down a minute. You’re gonna give me a sore neck if I have to keep looking all the fucking way up there.”

After another moment’s hesitation, Cal dragged a blue plastic chair over from a few feet away and took a seat. He’d stay a minute, like Jack had suggested. He stretched his legs out in front of him and dug his toes into the sand.

“Nice shorts,” Jack said.

Cal pulled his heels back and tucked them under the chair. Jack snickered.

“If you’re not going to drink that beer, bring it over here,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Cal extended his arm across the space between them, offering the sweating can.

He expected Jack to take it. Instead, Jack cracked it open, cupped his hands around Cal’s, and guided the can up to his lips.

Cal sat, transfixed, as Jack’s fingers pressed into his skin, as Jack’s Adam’s apple worked up and down, as a tiny drop of liquid spilled out the corner of his lips and trickled down his jaw and neck.

Then Jack tipped the can back down and released Cal’s hand. He blinked once, his green eyes full of mischief.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should have left some for you.”

“That’s okay,” Cal said, his pulse skittering at the sense memory of Jack’s hands on his. “It was yours anyhow.”

Jack leaned back in his lounger and tipped his head up to the sun, closing his eyes. Cal stared at him, at the way his long limbs stretched across the chair, the way his nose curved just so, the pale expanses of his skin. It was hard to believe, but he was even more beautiful in person than in the magazines Cal had furtively purchased for the past year.

“How was the rest of your night?” Jack asked.

“Last night?” Cal asked, stumbling to catch up as he was pulled from his thoughts. “It was fine. I just went back home.”

“Did the music keep you up?”

“No. My parents complained about it at dinner, but I couldn’t really hear it from my room.”

Jack pushed himself up on one elbow and twisted to look up at the Buchanan mansion. “Where’s your room?” he asked.

“West side,” Cal said. “Second floor, down at the end.”

“Hmmm. So have you lived here all your life?”

“I don’t live here,” Cal said. “I mean...I’m just here during the summers. I’m at school during the year. Harvard.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “Fancy. And smart.”

Cal shrugged. He could tell Jack he’d have gotten in on his name alone, even if he weren’t smart, but since he was, it wasn’t worth it. Besides, from what he’d read in the articles he’d pored over, Jack hadn’t gone to college, so he probably wasn’t actually impressed.

“But you lived here when you were a kid?” Jack asked.

“Not for a long time. I’ve been in boarding school since I was twelve.” Cal reached down and set the now empty can on the sand beside him. “What about you? What brings you to Rhode Island? Bored with the California beaches or something?”

Jack giggled, and it was a musical sound that had Cal unconsciously leaning forward.

“Mostly,” Jack said. “I had a break from shooting this summer and needed to get out of L.A. for a minute. My agent found this place. It’s rented through August, in case I decide to stay that long.”

Cal’s heart sank at the idea that Jack would get bored and leave Westerly, hightail it back to the glitz and glamor of Los Angeles. It was likely, though. He himself was constantly bored here, longing to get back to school for three entire months.

He felt like an opportunity was slipping through his fingers. An opportunity for what, he wasn’t sure...but he wanted a chance to find out.

“What do you think? Of the area?” Cal asked.

“I’ve only been here a couple of days,” Jack said, “but from where I’m sitting, it looks promising.”

He smiled at Cal, and Cal’s pulse began to dance out a rapid two-step again. Okay, Jack was flirting again. Right? Or was Cal imagining this, too?

In his time at Exeter and Harvard, Cal had gotten fairly good at cracking the code of flirting with other men. You had to be careful, not be too obvious. Start slow, move forward in tiny increments. The risks and consequences of being wrong were too high.

Jack was not starting slow...but maybe it was different in Hollywood.

Cal cleared his throat. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “A little boring, I guess. Stuffy. But the ocean is nice. And there are good restaurants.”

“What do you do around here, anyway?” Jack asked.

“Mostly I do what it takes to avoid my parents,” Cal said automatically.

Jack laughed, and Cal grinned at him, relaxing into his chair. He stretched his legs out again, letting the sun and the ocean breeze hit them.

“What are they like?” Jack asked.

“A little boring, I guess. Stuffy.” Cal smirked, repeating his phrase from earlier, and Jack laughed again.

“They fit in well here, then,” he said. “But what is there to do? Besides throw parties?”

“Go out to eat. Golf. Watch television. Go to the cinema. This,” Cal said, gesturing around at the beach scene around them. “There are also the beach clubs. A lot of people our age hang out there. I’m usually there a lot, but I’m waiting for more of the summer people to arrive. Most should be in town by this weekend.”

“What do the beach clubs have that this beach doesn’t?” Jack asked.

“Food and beverage service,” Cal said.

Jack pointed at the coolers.

“ Service ,” Cal said, laughing. “People taking your orders and bringing you burgers and whatever.”

“I have a cook,” Jack said. “You want a burger? She can make you a burger.”

“The beach is bigger, and less rocky. It has volleyball courts. Boats to take out. Lifeguards. Sometimes music. You know.” Cal shrugged. “It’s really just a place to gather.”

“Maybe I’ll check it out,” Jack said.

“You have to be a member.” Cal cringed slightly, anticipating the offense that Jack might take at that.

“So I’ll become a member.”

“You’d need a referral from a current member,” Cal said. He cringed again. “And they’re kind of stupid about it. Claim to be full sometimes.”

“I have pretty good success getting into things,” Jack said, a little dryly. “Do you ever get to bring a guest?”

“Sure,” Cal said. Jack smiled, looking at him expectantly, and he clued in. “Oh. I could, um...you could come with me sometime. To see if you like it. And I could refer you.”

“I’d love that, Cal,” Jack said, his voice suddenly honey smooth and pitched a note lower. “It’s nice of you to offer.”

Cal blushed, and turned away to look out at the ocean, hoping that he might just look heated from the sun. He heard Jack chuckle softly beside him.

They sat quietly for a time. The radio continued to pump out its tinny guitar riffs and vocals. Cal watched Jack’s friends cavorting in the water, having chicken fights and riding the waves. The football game had moved into the water as well. He felt himself relaxing further. As much as he hated being trapped here every summer under his parents’ judgmental scrutiny, he did like the ocean, and the way it smoothed out all the rough edges inside him.

Finally, after maybe a half hour, Jack spoke again, breaking the silence.

“So, Cal. You’re coming to my party tonight, right?” He cocked his head to the side, his dark curls falling softly across his cheek. “Should be even better than last night.”

“Oh, maybe,” Cal said. The answer was no, of course not. He could probably sneak out after his parents had retired for the evening, but if word got back to them he’d been at a party like this...no, of course not.

He couldn’t. Could he? He wanted to.

“Maybe isn’t a yes,” Jack said, his lower lip jutting into a tiny pout. “Come on, humor me.”

“You seem like you’ve got a full guest list anyway,” Cal said, gesturing around.

“Yeah, well. I know these losers already, I brought them with me from L.A. You’re new and interesting.” Jack slid his foot across the sand. Cal’s breath caught as Jack’s toe trailed along the top of his foot. “Besides...you seem to be lacking in shoes at the moment.”

Cal’s head snapped up from where he was staring at their feet. “I am. Did you take them?”

“For safekeeping,” Jack said. “Wouldn’t want just anyone to walk away with them.”

“Can I have them back?”

“Come to the party tonight and we’ll see what kind of deal we can make.”

“If I come to the party, you’ll return my shoes?” Cal asked.

Jack shrugged one shoulder and pursed his lips. “Guess you’ll have to come over and find out.”

He stood up from the chair.

“I don’t suppose you’re wearing a swimsuit under that,” he said, flapping a hand in Cal’s direction.

“No,” Cal said. “I was going for a walk. And I have to meet my parents and their friends at the country club for lunch and a round of golf in a while.”

“Too bad.” He swiveled on a heel and began to walk backwards toward the water. “Tonight. Come by anytime you hear music. Promise?”

“I…” Cal swallowed. Fuck it. “Yeah. I promise.”

“Far out,” Jack said, grinning broadly. “Can’t wait.”

Then he turned and ran for the water, his blue swim trunks hanging precariously from his narrow hips. Cal watched as he hit the surf with a splash. He shouted something, and the football sailed through the air. Jack caught it gracefully and then threw it back before wading up to his waist and then diving beneath an incoming wave.

When he popped up, slicking his curls back from his face, one of the girls maneuvered towards him and slung her arms around his neck.

Cal rose, and, with one last look over his shoulder, trudged back up the beach towards his house. He hoped he’d have the guts and the opportunity to fulfill his promise.

He wanted to see Jack again.