No Strings Attached (52 page)

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Shirt and Shoes Not Required

Todd Strasser

“School's out for … ever!”

Okay, so maybe it was one of the lamest songs ever to come out of the 1980s, but Avery James had to admit that thumping out of the radio in her pickup, it sounded dead-on. Driving with the windows down and the warm June breeze whipping her light brown hair, she turned the music up a little louder.

Summer, there was nothing like it. And this year, she was going to make the most of it. It was June 23, and the rest of her life stretched before her, beginning with two months of sun, sand, all-night parties—and no one checking IDs too close—to celebrate her release from the minimum-security prison known as high school.

Cruising down the road toward Wildwood, New Jersey, the salty smell of the ocean filled her nostrils and a thrill ran up her spine.
This is it!
Ever since she was a kid she had heard about the beachside community that was the summer hangout
for thousands of high school and college students. Now she was finally going to see for herself.

She drove over the causeway—the breeze adding a ripple to the green water below—and into town, passing the blocks of rental houses and condos, motels, gas stations, and liquor stores that serviced vacationers. Her first impression was that every other car was a brand-new convertible or a tricked-out import complete with spoiler and rims. Compared with them, her rusty, dented red truck was almost an eyesore. But that was okay; she liked being different. A girl driving an old pickup stood out in the crowd. It didn't matter that the real reason she drove the pickup was that it was free. The truck was a hand-me-down from her uncle.

The sky was blue and cloudless, the sun big and yellow. Its rays warmed her arm in the open window. Avery tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and double-checked the addresses for the house she would be sharing. She was looking for number 15. As she drove toward the beach the numbers got lower. 93 … 87 … 81. The houses were mostly two stories and larger than she had expected. Some were freshly painted with neatly trimmed green lawns. Others were victims of the salt air and harsh winter weather—paint flaking, battered shutters hanging askew. Houses like that anywhere else might have been considered dilapidated, but here they seemed charming and rustic.

She passed number 19 and slowed the pickup, but her heart
sped up in anticipation. Seven people would be sharing the house, including her boyfriend, Curt. No parents, no rules, nothing to hold them back from having a great time. Daytime, nighttime, all the time. That was,
if
they could stand one another. She wondered what her housemates would be like. Maybe it wouldn't be important. Her cousin had once shared a house at Wildwood with three other girls and swore she never saw two of them more than five times the entire summer.

A brisk ocean breeze swept in the open window, and Avery tasted the salt in the air. She couldn't wait to get into her bathing suit. The scent of suntan lotion and ocean water mixed with the aroma of funnel cake and popcorn.
Ah, bliss!

Her thoughts turned to Curt. He should have arrived two days ago with his band. Almost instantly the muscles in the back of her neck began to tighten with nervous tension. They'd had a fight the last time they'd seen each other because she didn't want to live in the house the other band members had rented for the summer. Curt hadn't called her cell to let her know he'd arrived, so she was pretty sure he was still annoyed. But she knew she'd made the right decision. He was so involved with that band, it was hard to get him alone. She wanted time with him this summer. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy hanging out with the other musicians; she just wanted something different, something special. As she pulled up to number 15, her new summer home, she hoped that she had found it.

Avery parked the pickup on the street outside the house.
Like most of the other houses on the street, it was two stories tall. The dull gray paint and black trim were weather-beaten but not yet flaking. What lawn there was had been recently cut, but already a few gnarly looking weeds poked up through the grass.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, pressed the 2 on the speed dial, and got Curt's voice mail. His clipped message, “You know what to do,” was followed by the requisite beep. “I'm here and it looks great,” Avery said. She hung up and breathed in the warm air for a moment, had another thought, and hit redial. “I can't wait for you to see our place if you haven't already. …” She paused and found herself unwilling to hang up. The memory of their argument was fresh in her thoughts, and she didn't want their summer together to begin on a bad note. “I really think you're going to love it. We'll get to have time together and it'll be fun. I can't wait.”

She got out of the truck and looked around. The street ended two houses down, and beyond that was the beach and then the vast blue green ocean stretching out to the horizon. White-tipped waves crashed on the velvety golden sand, and sprays of water looked like millions of diamonds glittering in the sunlight.

“What a dump,” someone behind her muttered. Startled, Avery turned to see a girl with expertly highlighted honey blond hair, tan skin, and stormy blue eyes climbing out of a cab. She was wearing a tight pink baby doll tee with a light blue terry
cloth miniskirt. While neither was see-through, they might just as well have been, given what they revealed about her drop-dead figure. She was carrying a brown Louis Vuitton overnight bag. The cabdriver opened the trunk and placed two large matching suitcases on the curb.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and held out his hand.

The blonde gave him a perplexed look.

“I don't drive for free, sweetcakes,” said the cabbie.

Where Avery would have apologized like mad for the oversight, the blonde merely looked annoyed as she opened her bag and paid him.

“Ahem.” The driver cleared his throat again.

The blonde gave him an exasperated “Now what?” look.

“You ever heard of a tip?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes dramatically and acting as if he'd just asked her for one of her kidneys, she opened her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Got change?”

The driver frowned. “That's all you got?”

“Sorry.” The blonde stuck the bill back in her purse.

Muttering to himself, the cabbie got into the cab. Avery couldn't help but feel a bit shocked that the blonde had stiffed the guy. From the looks of things, she could have easily afforded the tip.

“Excuse me.” Leaving the matching luggage on the sidewalk, the blonde pushed past Avery.
Pretentious blue blood,
Avery thought.
The kind who spends a thousand dollars on designer clothes
tailor-made to give the wearer a casual, just-thrown-together look. What is she doing renting a room in this place? Mommy and Daddy can probably afford to buy her a beach house of her own.

The blonde rang the doorbell. Almost instantly it was opened by a guy who looked about twenty years old. It seemed to Avery that he must have been waiting for the knock. His straight brown hair fell down his forehead, almost into his eyes, and he was wearing a white T-shirt, and green plaid shorts that revealed pale, bony arms and legs. The black socks and shoes did little to enhance the look. Behind his thick, black-rimmed glasses his eyes sparkled with excitement.

The blonde wrinkled her nose. “You're … not one of my new roommates, are you?”

“No, I'm Fred, your landlord,” he said, extending his hand.

“Oh! The landlord! So nice to meet you!” The blonde's frown turned into a smile, and her voice became sweet. “Sabrina Morganthal,” she said, taking his hand in hers instead of shaking it. “Would you be a dear and help me with my bags? They're too heavy for me, but I'm sure they'd be no problem for you.”

It was Avery's turn to roll her eyes.
She has to be kidding. Fred may look a little dense, but he has to see that she's playing him!

All Fred seemed to see was Sabrina's hand holding his, and the bare arm, and amazing body behind it. He smiled wide. “My pleasure.”

Sabrina batted her eyes. “Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it.” She sailed past him and into the house.

It was hard to believe how quickly Sabrina had gone from being rude to the cabdriver to sugary sweet with Fred. The poor guy practically tripped over himself in his rush to get her bags. He didn't even notice Avery on the walk as he dashed past her and tried to pick up both bags at once.

“Uhhh!” He grunted and struggled to drag them up the walk. Meanwhile, Avery went inside the house. Sabrina was standing in the middle of the living room with her back toward her and her hands on her hips, surveying the place. Avery immediately liked the way the light streamed through the windows. The walls were painted a pale seafoam green, and the carpet was the color of sand. The living room had two sofas, three comfortable chairs, and a television set.

“Decorated it myself,” Fred announced proudly once he made it inside and let go of the bags. “Well, with a little help from my mom. The entertainment center has a wide-screen TV, DVD/VCR with Surround Sound. The CD player holds twelve disks.
And
we've got Wi-Fi. Nice, huh?”

“Fabulous,” Sabrina said with feigned enthusiasm. Avery wasn't particularly interested in the entertainment center. Instead, she focused on the staircase that led up to a second-floor landing. She could see several doors, no doubt bedrooms.

“And over here is the kitchen.” Fred was still giving Sabrina the guided tour.

“You don't say,” Sabrina replied. “I never would have guessed.”

Avery bit her lip to keep from laughing. Fred couldn't be more than a year or two older than her. This must have been his first venture into real estate, and he was too eager to please.

Sabrina flipped her hair in that way that seemed to come naturally to beautiful girls. People had told Avery she was beautiful, but she'd never quite believed it. Maybe that was why she wasn't blessed with awesome hair flippage.

Meanwhile, Sabrina was getting impatient with Fred's house tour. “Can we get to the bedroom already?”

An astonished look spread over Fred's face. It suddenly occurred to Avery that he might have misunderstood the statement, especially if one believed all those stories about how wild “summer girls” could be. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing while Fred moved toward Sabrina, almost as if he was going to embrace her, clearly misreading her intentions.

Before he could get too close, Sabrina raised a hand to stop him. “Isn't there something you should take care of first?”

Fred scowled, raising one eyebrow, then the other, clearly wracking his brain to figure out what she meant. Meanwhile, Sabrina laid a hand gently on Fred's arm. “I meant, my bags, Freddy. Someone has to get them upstairs.”

“Oh … uh, right. Right!” Fred hurried for the bags while Sabrina, with the air of a queen, went up the stairs.

Avery's cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” It was Curt, and he sounded like he was in a
good mood. She felt a tingle of relief. “Got your message. You seen our room yet?”

“Not yet. The landlord's got his hands full with one of the other renters,” she said ruefully.

“Okay, I'll be there in ten.”

“I love you,” she said.

He'd already hung up. Well, at least he'd sounded happy. She closed her phone and slid it back into her pocket. Fred came past with Sabrina's bags.

“Excuse me,” Avery said. “I'm Avery James.”

“Be right with you.” Fred lugged one bag up to the second-floor landing, then turned and hurried back down for the second.

“I'm also renting here this summer,” Avery said.

“In a minute,” Fred gasped under the strain of the heavy bag, his forehead beginning to glisten with sweat as he headed back up the stairs.