Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (17 page)

“Honey, it doesn’t get more provocative than that,” I explain, pointing at her miniscule bikini top.

“This thing? This covers way too much. Doesn’t it?” she asks, turning her head toward Rory. “What’d you say your name was, Handsome?”

“Sydney, this is Rory, and this is Dre,” I introduce. “If you can keep it in your pants for a bit, we’d like to eat some lunch—while we’re all still upright and clothed.”

“Oh I can … if I must … I’m just hoping this one here can’t keep it in
his
pants,” she flirts, placing a hand on Rory’s bicep. “And you, Dre, are you gonna keep it in your pants or put it right back in my best friend again … where it belongs,” she asks, crassly. I gasp and redden, rolling my eyes in mortification.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, snuggling up to me, Dre whispers in my ear, “I’m gonna put it anywhere she asks—anytime she asks.” My knees weaken, threatening to buckle.

Rory and Syd crane their necks to hear what he’s saying, but Dre doesn’t let them privy to those sexy and breathy words.

Then, Dre turns to them and says, “Now Syd, a guy like me doesn’t kiss and tell.” In front of both of them, he kisses my forehead, and says, “But I’m sure Pebbles will fill you in on anything she may want you to know.”

“Pebbles?” Syd’s brows rise.

“Don’t ask,” I say, walking down toward the beach.

“Dre calls her that, because he thinks she can make the ‘bedrock.’ Good one,” Rory says, trying to high five Dre. Dre leaves him hanging, rolling his eyes at Rory.

“Don’t kiss and tell, eh?” I joke.

“Well, not too much,” Dre laughs.

“Dre, I’m surprised you’re so pretty,” Sydney announces nonchalantly. “Pebbles doesn’t usually go for pretty boys with hot bodies like you.”

Sydney emphasizes my nickname. I can tell she’s mad that I never told her about it and that Rory already knew. Syd’s kind of possessive and jealous like that, even with me, which is often why guys don’t make the repeat booty call. Men fall for her sex appeal and beauty, but they run for the hills when they see her clinginess and envy.

“Oh really?” Dre says, taking an interest in Sydney’s statement. “What’s Kathryn’s type.”

“Watching
Big Bang Theory
is foreplay for her. Geeks make the bed squeak,” Syd states. See! Total witch.

“Oh my God, Sydney! Do you have no filter?” I yell, shoving her with my shoulder. “Enough!”

“I’m serious, Dre. You better hit the books if you want her to stay at all interested … maybe get yourself a bow tie, some glasses, I don’t know—whatever’s popular in nerd world these days,” Sydney says, shoving me back.

“Noted. Adding books and pocket protectors to my shopping list,” Dre teases, grabbing my hand and kissing it as we find a secluded spot on the beach.

Rory brought a pile of blankets from the hotel’s linen storage, so I grab a few of them and lay them out as Rory pulls food from the boxes he carted along with us.

“Croissants?” Syd squeals. “Sandwiches on croissants are my fave. Now this is a man after my own heart.”

“That’s not all I’m after, baby,” he says, plopping down on the blanket right next to her.

“You’re not gonna need to work too hard, Sweetheart, so save up your energy,” Sydney states, smiling at Rory.

Dre and I roll our eyes at each other, knowing we only have ourselves to blame for this impending disaster. “Oh shut up McVay,” Sydney warns. McVay? Crap, she really is mad at me for not disclosing things to her.

“McVay?” Dre says, looking at both of us, curiously.

“Oh, didn’t Kathryn tell you that her last name used to be McVay?” Sydney laughs, smugly.

“Oh God, Syd, you didn’t!” I exclaim, hating that I’m now going to be forced to divulge the craziness of my family.

“No, Kathryn most certainly did not tell me that her last name used to be ‘McVay,’ before,” Dre said. “Like the Oklahoma bomber?”

Sydney lost it, cracking up. I just shook my head and said, “And there it is.”

My father never got along with his father—at all. His father bailed early on him and his mother. My dad hated parading around with his deadbeat dad’s last name, “McVay.” Once Timothy McVeigh bombed the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City, our fate was sealed. Everywhere we went; everything we did was impacted by that event—even hundreds of miles away—not knowing anyone suffering from the tragedy. Anytime my parents had to say our last name, the follow up was “like the bomber?” It didn’t even matter that the spellings were different; we still got those suspicious, accusatory glares. It sent my father over the edge.

My mother and father changed our last name to my mom’s maiden name. My mom’s parents are true grandparents and very close to us. It made the most sense for us to become the “Howells.” I was only six at the time, so going from Kathryn McVay to Kathryn Howell was odd at first, but easy to adapt.

“That is a crazy-ass story,” Dre said. “Can I call you Katie McVay?”

“Not if you want me to answer,” I state.

“I’m actually glad they did it. Can you imagine being Kathryn McVay with Katharine McPhee being so popular?” I ask. “People would get us confused all the time.”

“Yeah, until they heard you sing,” Dre and Sydney say together. Laughing, they high-five each other, sealing their friendship. They both jump at the chance to start making fun of my singing ability. I hadn’t realized I’d ever sung in front of Dre. Apparently, I have.

Rory’s hands make it to Sydney’s thighs; she’s doing nothing to deter his soft strokes. “So Rory, what do you do?” Syd asks, directing all of her attention on him.

“I own a few hotels,” he embellishes. Syd’s hand quickly finds his arm. “So, you can use any room, any time you want?”

“Any time, any day, any minute, baby.” Rory brags.

“Calm down you two; I’m trying to eat here,” Dre scolds, taking a bite of his sandwich before sitting down.

“I’m not sure any part of me is staying … down … with her around,” Rory admits, staring at Sydney. “Stop trying to cock block me anyway, Dude. I never did that to you in college,” Rory whines.

Looking between them, my interest is piqued. “College?” Dre never mentioned college to me before.

“Yeah, at Brown. Dre used to get all the chicks, falling at his feet, but I never tried to make them back off—like he’s doing now,” Rory explains.

“You went to Brown?” I ask, surprised, shocked, and possibly a little hurt. Why was this the first I was hearing about it?

“That’s like a good school, isn’t it? Hard to get into?” Syd asks, looking bewildered.

“Uh yeah!” I exclaim, still reeling from this bit of information that was never bestowed upon me before.

“Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal,” Dre says, glaring at Rory.

“Fuck it ain’t! Graduated top of his class. Fucking pre-Med,” Rory discloses.

“Well there you go, Kathryn. He’s a doctor; you can’t get any geekier or smarter than that shit,” Sydney states.

“You’re a doctor?” I ask, feeling my Katie-freak-out coming on.

Hello? Dre Donley has a medical degree? What the Hell? I thought he fixed crap and helped fishermen. Okay, I kind of thought he was a drifter. Ya know, no ambition, no drive, no real future. A freaking doctor? Why wouldn’t he tell me that? That’s pretty big information to leave out.

Dre shakes his head. “Nah, haven’t done my residency yet. Don’t know if I ever will. That’s not who I am anymore,” he says, anger written all over his face.

Changing the subject, he says, “So Syd what do you do?”

“Oh ya know. A little of this, a little of that,” she flirts, evading his question.

Sydney takes off her floppy hat and sunglasses, letting her long, blonde hair fall down all around her shoulders and back. She’s perfected the flirtatious, “check-me-out” hair flip, and head cock.

Rory glances over at her, his jaw dropping. “Holy fucking dream come true!” Rory exclaims, jumping to his feet. “Fucking A. Oh fuck yeah.”

Syd and I eye one another, all too sure of what’s coming next. “You’re Ivy Sterling. THE Ivy Sterling. Ivy ‘Sure-I’ll-Do-Anything-Sterling.”

Rory is awestruck, star-struck, and pardon my language, but about to get Ivy-fucked. And me, I’m sitting here completely mind-fucked by this new bit of information about Dre.

“Oh? You’ve seen my work?” Sydney asks, feigning surprise and innocence. Seriously, how can she possibly pretend to be innocent when she’s talking about her pornos? This girl is a piece of work.

“Seen your work? Baby, I
own
copies of your work,” Rory swoons.

Sydney eats this crap up. Usually, when I’m around though, she tones it down a bit. I’m thinking she might seriously be digging Rory. Who wouldn’t? Black, toned, bald businessmen are scrumptious. Rory has a “Taye Diggs” thing going on, and boy does he have it going on.

“What am I missing?” Dre asks, looking around at everyone.

“Dude, this is Ivy … Ivy Sterling.” Rory says, casually placing his hand on Sydney’s leg.

“I’m sorry. Should I know you?” Dre asks, looking apologetic and confused, but relieved that the subject was no longer centered around him. At least for now anyway. “Does anyone around here go by their God-given name?”

“Really? Have you been living under a rock Dre—well—scratch that,” Rory says, shaking his head. “Your girl’s best friend is Ivy Sterling, adult film star. She’s known for—”

“I’m known for ‘entertaining’ Rory,” Sydney interrupts. “Let’s not give too much away. If Dre wants to see my work, then—”

“Over my dead body,” I say, turning Dre’s head to look at me. “I draw the line at you watching my friend perform.” I glance over at Sydney and roll my eyes. Rory’s hand is already travelling dangerously far up her thigh.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dre says. “You’re best friend, whom you hang out with and go places with is a porn star?”

“Yep,” I answer, giggling.

“I’m assuming that people … men … everyone … flocks to her, to both of you, when you’re out drinking and shit?” he asks, staring at me.

“Pretty much,” I admit. “I haven’t been out-out with Sydney in over a year and had to buy my own drink—unless you count lunches. But at bars and stuff, everything is bought by horny dudes or is suddenly ‘on the house.’ Can’t complain. Saves me money.”

“That’s great. That’s just fucking great,” Dre says, throwing his half-eaten sandwich back into the box. “This day just couldn’t get any better.”

“Huh? Whattya mean?” I ask, having no idea what he’s getting at.

“Oh nothing, Kathryn, not a thing,” he states, blowing me off. “Ya have any other secrets you’d care to drop on me?”

“What? Me? Drop on you? Syd’s career isn’t my secret. What the heck, Dre? What about you? Doctor? Really? Like I wouldn’t have been interested in knowing that” I argue, wondering where his anger and animosity are suddenly coming from, but feeling my own begin to escalate.

“Dude, let it go,” Rory warns, eyeing him knowingly. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s pretty hot if ya think about it.”

“Sydney can do whatever she wants. More power to you, Hon. I just don’t want … want … fuck it. Forget it.” Dre waves us off, stands up, and starts picking up one of the blankets. “Ya know; I’ve got things to take care of today. I’ll catch y’all later.” And walks off. Yes, walks off. What in the world just happened?

“What the fuck is his deal?” Syd breaks the icy tension, as we all stare at him as he walks toward the parking lot.

“Uh Dre? Nah, nothing. He’s just … a little edgy at times,” Rory says, scowling.

“Nothing? That was nothing?” I ask, shaking my head. “And forget that. He’s not just walking away from me and ‘calling it a day.’ That’s not how I roll, Buddy, not how I roll at all.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” Syd says, smirking. “Show ‘em your fire.”

I have no idea what just went on. We were all just laughing, eating, and enjoying ourselves. Dre just snapped. I can’t figure him out. Cannot. He’s sweet and tender one moment, volatile and dicky the next. He’s a mystery. And a doctor. What in the world?

When I finally catch up to him, I’m breathing hard and sweating. Running along the beach in the middle of the afternoon, fully clothed, is not a good time to me, nor should it be for anyone else. People should not run. Life’s too short to rush around all the time.

“Dre stop!” I yell. He doesn’t. I run around to stand in front of him, splaying my hands across his chest, stopping him from moving forward, catching my breath as I do so. “What’s … what’s wrong with you? Why’d you get angry and walk off?”

“I … I don’t know,” he stammers, running his hand through his hair and looking away from me.

“You don’t know?” I question again. “I’m gonna need a little more than that. You were rude and mean. I don’t appreciate or tolerate being treated that way.”

“Kathryn, listen to me; I don’t know.” Dre finally exhales loudly and looks me in the eyes. “I really don’t know. I just … I just … I can’t explain it.”

“Dre, you’re gonna have to try. From what I just saw back there, I’m pretty freaked out and … and really confused,” I admit.

“Yeah, well, so am I,” he says, sitting down in the sand.

“About what? What’s going on?” I probe, softening as I sit down next to him. “Why don’t you talk to me? Last night was amazing. We were so in sync, so in touch with … with everything. Why’re you pulling back now?”

“I know. You’re right. About everything. I’m sorry. I never should’ve—forget it,” he says.

“Should’ve what?”

“Opened my mouth. I’m sorry. I was just sitting there hearing you talk about the crowd that surrounds you and Sydney when you’re out, and I couldn’t help it. I just … just … snapped, I guess,” he explains.

“But why? Why would that even come close to upsetting you?” I ask, turning to face him, rubbing his forearm. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know. The thought of guys, lots of guys, buying you drinks and hanging all over you pissed me off—like a fucking lot,” Dre admits, pulling my ball cap from my head, and then spinning it around his finger.

“Kathryn, I don’t know what’s going on … I know that this is fast—really fucking fast whatever’s going on here. But, I just went a little ape shit thinking about you with someone else.”

“Okay, so … what’re you saying?” I ask.