Beaches (13 page)

“Of course,” Bertie said. “He’s my husband.”

“You think loving and husbands have to go together?” Cee Cee asked. “Boy, are you wrong. That’s not the way I’ve seen it where I’ve been.”

Bertie looked to see if John was listening. He wasn’t. He was lying on his stomach reading what looked like a script, and he turned the page.

“Does he like me?” Cee Cee asked.

“Michael?” Bertie asked, stalling until she could think of a way to answer.

Michael had told Bertie to figure out a way to get out of having dinner with Cee Cee and John that night because he wanted to go to Nick’s Fishmarket for dinner and was afraid “that mouth” would embarrass him in that nice quiet restaurant.

“He, uh . . . well, he doesn’t ever really say too much about people,” Bertie offered. “He probably thinks you’re nice, though. Otherwise he would have said something about not spending time together … or, I don’t know.” She was afraid Cee Cee knew she was lying.

“Well, I think he’s great. I’ve always had a thing for hotshot lawyers,” she said, “and he can handle me anytime.”

Bertie looked at her.

“Be my lawyer,” Cee Cee added.

Bertie nodded.

That night, when Bertie was in the room wondering how to tell Cee Cee that Michael wanted them to have dinner alone at Nick’s, the phone rang.

“Bert. Gee. Me and my honey are sapped,” she said. “The goddamn sun wasted us. So we can’t have dinner with you tonight. Okay?”

“Sure, Cee Cee.”

“We’re gonna stay in our room, order some food, fuck our brains out a few more times, and pass out. See you at breakfast.”

“God, they are so straight,” John said to Cee Cee as she got out of the shower.

“Well he is,” she answered, reaching for a towel. “But she seems the same as before, don’t you think?”

John didn’t answer. He was putting a toilet paper patch on a tiny bloody spot where he’d nicked his cheek shaving.

“Anyway,” Cee Cee said, “we could use a dose of straight around here, pal,” she said, and smacked him on his naked ass. “Hang around with a nice solid couple outta Middle America and maybe that settled shit can rub off.”

John took a small towel and wrapped it around Cee Cee’s head and rubbed her red orange mass of wet curls.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with settled,” he said. “You’d die of boredom.”

When he stopped rubbing she looked up. Her eyes were as bright as a child’s.

“I wouldn’t die of boredom.” She dropped her towel and pressed her damp body against his. “I’d cook and sew and get preggie and be straight.”

“Oh, really? And what would I do?” he asked, pulling her close against him. “What’s my part in this barbecue fantasy? This portrait of domestic bliss? Huh, Mrs. Perry, my spouse?” He nuzzled his nose in her hair.

“You wear a tie and have a job in the city,” she said.

God, she loved this gorgeous yummy man. She kissed his chin and kissed his neck.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Anything you want.” She nibbled his ear.

“Anything I want? Well, in that case, I pick directing big stars in shows on Broadway.” He kissed her, and she started to kiss back, but stopped as she thought about what he’d just said.

“Like what big stars?” she asked.

“Like Barbra Streisand or Angela Lansbury or Carol Channing. Big stars!”

“Hey, what about Cee Cee Bloom?” she asked, pouting a mock pout. “Who’s, without a doubt, going to be the biggest star of them all.”

“You mean that gal that retired to go straight just before her career took off?” John teased. “She’s living in the suburbs with a couple of kids.”

“John.”

“Oh, she had a chance to be big, but she gave it up to cook and sew.” His hands moved slowly up and down her sides, until she moved her body away, freeing her breasts so he could caress them.

“Well, maybe I’m too young to settle down,” she said, only half-kidding.

John was excited and exciting her.

“That was my line when you asked me to marry you,” John said, kneeling and pulling her down to the floor with him.

“Hey, you asked me.”

“I did not.”

“You lie like the trade papers, Perry, you did ask me. You said you couldn’t live without me. Swore you’d take care of me forever. Would you get your hand outta there? Isn’t that what you said? Mmmm, J.P., you get me too crazy and then I can’t remember what you did that pissed me off so the next thing you know I’m . . . J. P., oooh.”

The next day the weather was great. John broke down and rented a racket, and he and Michael went over to the Country Club to play tennis. The girls took the shuttle into Waikiki to shop.

The International Marketplace was bustling, and Bertie and Cee Cee watched the tourists clamor for overpriced souvenirs. They bought pineapples on a stick and ate them while they walked in and out of the stands.

“Hey, how is it workin* at that place?” Cee Cee asked as she wiped the pineapple juice dribbling onto her chin. “The one you wrote me about where you read to those kids?”

Bertie felt a rush of sadness. She was too embarrassed to tell Cee Cee the truth.

“Oh, it’s okay, I guess,” she said.

At one of the stands Bertie bought a pair of Japanese thongs and a straw mat for the beach and a hat made out of palm leaves. Cee Cee bought an imitation grass skirt made out of cellophane, a T-shirt with a picture of a beer mug on it that said “Suck ‘Em Up,” and a little plastic box called a concert kit that contained a roach holder and some papers for rolling joints.

“You smoke?” Cee Cee asked.

Bertie hesitated.

“I mean dope,” Cee Cee said.

“Uh . . . well, we have.” There. We again. Even alone with Cee Cee she referred to herself as Bertie and Michael. “Once. Tried it once. At a party at one of the lawyers’ house.”

“Great, huh?”

“Well …”

“We’ll do it tonight. Hawaiian’s the best. From Maui. Let’s get some ice cream.”

They could pick up the shuttle back to the hotel at five after two. It was one forty-five. While they were eating their ice cream they wandered into a jewelry store. Cee Cee looked in the case at some watches.

“Can I try that one?” she asked the clerk, pointing to a beautiful gold watch with a diamond face.

She held it around the wrist of the hand that was holding the macadamia nut ice cream cone and looked at the diamond face closely.

“How much?” she asked.

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” the clerk replied.

“Hmmm. Well, thanks,” Cee Cee said, handing it back. “I’ll tell my husband.” The clerk put the watch back in the case and Bertie and Gee walked outside.

“Fifteen hundred dollars for a watch,” Bertie said, chomping on her ice cream cone. “My God.”

“That’s nothin’,” Cee Cee replied.

A Hare Krishna group was playing an eerie tune outside the Liberty House department store. Four sailors walked by and gave Bertie the once-over.

“I’m gonna have a watch like .that and five more,” Cee Cee said.

“You are?”

They were walking toward the crosswalk to get to the Outrigger Hotel where they would catch the shuttle, when Cee Cee stopped Bertie suddenly by grabbing her arm.

“Bertie,” she said, “I mean it.”

“Mean what, Gee?” she asked. The urgency in Cee Cee’s words told Bertie what she was about to say was something so important they couldn’t be walking while she said it.

“About having it all.”

Bertie was silent. She still wasn’t sure what Cee Cee was talking about.

“It’s not just bullshit, Bert,” she said. “I’m gonna be big. A star. A real true superstar. I’m sure of it. More sure of it than anything in the world. I’m great, Bertie. And everyone who sees me perform and hears me sing knows it, too.”

“Cee Cee, I know that. I saw you-”

“No,” Cee Cee interrupted. “Not like in Beach Ha-

ven. That was nothing. It was kid stuff. I am going to be the biggest name ever. Bigger than Barbra Streisand, bigger than all of them. No shit. And it’ll be soon, too. I swear to God, it’ll be very soon.”

Cee Cee was practically trembling with emotion. Bertie didn’t know how to respond. Before she could think of something to say, Cee Cee took her arm again and turned her toward the crosswalk.

They rode in the shuttle back to the hotel, deposited their purchases, and met out on the beach in their suits. They were both very tanned.

“The guys must be having a good tennis game,” Cee Cee said, stretching lazily.

“Mmm.” Bertie pictured Michael and John on the tennis court. She imagined they were playing for her. To win her. To have her. In the fantasy she was lying on a chaise longue next to the tennis court, nude. The men were sweating, running back and forth, each desperate to win.

“Deuce.”

“Ad In.”

“Deuce.”

“Ad Out.”

“Deuce.”

Finally, one of them would win that particular game and walk to the outside of the court to make love to her while the other one waited. Then they would begin again. Each time the winner would run to her and, sweaty and hot, take her. First Michael, then John, then Michael again, and again John. Someone was blocking the sun. Bertie looked up.

It was Michael. “Hi.”

“Who won?” Bertie asked, trying to extend the fantasy.

“I killed him,” Michael said, deadpan.

Bertie was disappointed.

“Hiya, cutie,” Cee Cee said to Michael. “Where’s my old man?”

“Changing into his bathing suit, and feeling even older,” Michael boasted. “He’s not bad, but my game is a killer. That pro over there taught me some really good stuff. Coin’ in the water.”

Michael ran down the beach. Bertie watched Cee Cee watching him.

A Hawaiian waitress wearing a T-shirt and shorts came by. “Drink?”

Bertie started to say no, but Cee Cee interrupted.

“Bring four mai-tais,” she said.

The girl nodded and walked away.

“Why not?” Cee Cee looked at Bertie and shrugged. “We’re on vacation. Right?”

Michael emerged from the water and John from the hotel just as the mai-tais arrived. Bertie was going to apologize to Michael. She figured he’d object to the drinks, but when Cee Cee signed for them and handed him the mai-tai, he grinned.

“Great idea,” he said.

The cold drinks were perfect, and the four of them sat quietly looking out at the water.

“In order to redeem myself,” John said suddenly, “that is, to prove I am not such an old man as I looked on the tennis court, I made a rather heavy investment at the hotel gift shop on my way down here, and I hope all of you will participate in its use.” He reached for a white paper bag and pulled out a bright orange Frisbee.

“Hey,” Michael said happily. Bertie was reminded of when she first knew Michael in Pittsburgh, when a Frisbee or a whiffle-ball and bat could make his eyes shine. She was feeling very light-headed, maybe even a little dizzy.

“Well, all right,” Cee Cee said, jumping up. “Let’s do it!”

“C’mon, Bert,” John said.

“I’ll watch,” Bertie managed to get out. The idea of

even standing up was rough. Chasing after a Frisbee would be impossible.

The others ran down to the shore looking like the cast of a Pepsi commercial. It seemed to Bertie as though all of them were trying just a little too hard to have fun. John was carrying the Frisbee, and as they got to the waterline he threw it with great expertise.

“Great shot,” Michael shouted, leaping for it like a playful puppy.

“Great catch, Mike,” Cee Cee yelled.

No one ever called him Mike.

Michael ran back several yards and threw the Frisbee at an angle. It headed out into the water and both Cee Cee and John ran into the surf after it, screaming. Cee Cee was fast, but John snatched it as Cee Cee reached for it, and she went facedown into a wave. When she came up the red frizzy hair was tight around her head and her white one-piece suit clung tightly to her body. Even from where Bertie was sitting she could see Cee Cee’s dark nipples through the wet suit.

“Y’okay?” John asked her.

“Bet your ass,” Cee Cee said.

John threw the Frisbee to Michael as Cee Cee ran back to her position in the middle. Michael threw the Frisbee back to John.

“Hey, what is this?” Cee Cee yelled, pretending to pout. “Give the Jewish kid a chance here.”

John tauntingly faked a throw to Cee Cee then threw it back to Michael.

“You bastards,” Cee Cee said. “Let me play.”

All of them were laughing and Bertie smiled to herself. She was glad they were getting along. She’d been worried about that.

John had the Frisbee and Cee Cee was jumping up and down in mock anger.

“Give it to me. Come on.”

John took a few steps back and flung the Frisbee in Michael’s direction. Cee Cee started to run for it.

“No, you don’t,” Michael shouted, running backwards. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Cee Cee screamed, and as they both jumped in the air to reach for it, they collided and fell to the ground in a heap.

For an instant nobody moved. Bertie looked at the two of them. They were all entangled. Arms and legs everywhere. Then they started to laugh. But they still didn’t move. They just stayed there in that position laughing, until slowly, very slowly they began to get up. Helping one another, brushing the sand from one another.

Bertie looked at John. He hadn’t taken a step. He was still standing where he had been when he threw the Frisbee.

“I’m suing for whiplash,” Cee Cee said, and everyone laughed. “And I’m also quitting the game to go take a nap.”

“I’ll come with you, babe,” John said.

Cee Cee started back to the blanket to get her purse, then turned back to Michael.

“Say, Mike, old boy. No hard feelings, huh?”

Michael looked at her for what Bertie thought was a long time.

“No,” Michael said, grinning. “Nothing like that.”

“Let’s all have dinner in town tonight,” Cee Cee said.

Bertie looked at Michael for an answer.

“Great,” he said.

“Later,” John said, nodding to them as he and Cee Cee turned and walked up the beach toward the hotel.

The Marketplace at night reminded Bertie of Kenny-wood Park. Kennywood was an old amusement park in Pittsburgh where her mother took her every year of her childhood. They packed a picnic and met Aunt Neetie and Uncle Herbie there, and the grownups took Bertie on