WE SPEND THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON in the village with my parents and Jack where I manage to shake off at least some of the jitters lingering from my run-in with Alex at the party last night.
After saying goodbye to my parents who are leaving the Hamptons tonight to go back to their Greenwich home a couple of hours’ drive away, Jack and I stop off at a grocery store to get some liquor, local craft beer and healthy snack food for when Stella and Kevin come round later tonight.
Answering the door to Stella later that day, I warn her that Jack’s home and to play nice.
“I’ll be civil… for you,” she whispers.
“I appreciate it, honey,” I sigh, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
Kevin follows her in and plants a kiss on my cheek. Jack has plans to see his colleagues for a drink a few miles up the coast and Stella and Kevin walk into the living room to find him getting ready to leave. They greet each other cordially despite palpable tension, not so much from the live-and-let-live Kevin who has accepted my decision to forgive Jack, but from Stella who is doing an uncanny impersonation of a maternally outraged baboon attempting self-restraint towards the man who hurt her baby.
Kevin and Jack’s relationship has always been warm and playful and consists of a fair amount of affectionate ribbing, ball-busting and outright mocking, but all in jest and always light-hearted. Today, however, there is a distinctly heavy frost in the air and I breathe a sigh of relief when the beep of a taxi horn signals its arrival. I accompany Jack to the doorway where he grabs me, holding me tightly, his face an inch from mine.
“Are you guys going out later?” he asks.
“No, we’re staying in. I want to get an early night tonight.”
“Not too much drinking, beautiful, okay? I know what Kevin can get like. Don’t try and keep up with the fucker,” he warns, pulling the hair off my face as he eats my lips with his eyes.
I nod. “Are you meeting Noah and Greg?”
“Yeah. We’re going to a bar about fifteen minutes’ drive up the coast. Just for a few beers.” He takes a deep breath, peering into my eyes with focus. “Baby, last night was a lot. If I can’t be with you, I want you staying in tonight,” he urges.
“I will, honestly. I’m shattered.”
“Good. I’ll be back around eleven, midnight at the latest. I’ll use my key if you’re in bed. Call me if you need me, okay?”
He grabs the back of my nape and kisses me roughly, pressing his tongue briefly on the seam of my lips and licking gently in a gesture that sets my insides alight. His thumb enters my mouth, exposing my tongue which he licks with the tiniest ghost of a growl. I smile at him as we pull apart slowly and watch him as he walks down the front steps and gets into the cab. For some reason, a shudder of anxiety rolls through me as he’s driven off and out of sight. I shake it off.
“Hey guys, you want something to eat or drink?” I ask as I reemerge to find Stella and Kevin already foraging in the kitchen. “Okay, I guess you’ve figured it out!” I laugh.
I join them as they mix some weird cocktail Kevin wants to inflict on Stella, grabbing a light beer from the fridge which I mix half and half with some organic lemonade in a tall glass.
“Uh, what is that?” Kevin asks, his face a picture of derision.
“It’s called Shandy, darling,” I chuckle. “My mom drinks it.”
“Your mom, huh? Mm-hmm.” Kevin’s mocking face leaves me in fits of giggles. “I’ll let it pass, girlfriend, but you better not order anything like that in public when you’re out with me around here.”
“Listen, you narcissist,” I grin. “I’m trying to have one night where I don’t get so shit-faced that I feel like I’m going to pass out. I feel like my brain cells are disintegrating around here.”
“Honey, we’re in the Hamptons. Most bitches are hoofing A.D.D. medication on the quiet, and the men—cocaine at the very least. If you can’t get loaded in the Hamptons, I don’t know where you can.”
Stella and I chuckle at his ridiculous over-the-top clichés. “Oh my God, if people around here knew the stupid shit you say about them!” I exclaim. “I’m gonna have my Shandy for now. I may be drunk soon and forget this whole sober crap anyway.”
We spend the next two hours talking, laughing and delving into copious amounts of kale chips, apricots, Brazil nuts and olives. I stick to my one very untrendy beer-lemonade mix, followed by some ice tea as Kevin gets progressively more hammered with each passing half-hour. After a brief foray into politics, and feisty debates about street harassment and social media censorship, we follow the heavy stuff up with ridiculous impersonations of some ludicrous reality stars and gossip about some of the people Kevin and Stella saw at the beach today. Frankly, it’s a relief to just talk about mindless nonsense and forget about the relationship drama I’ve wasted too much of my life on already. I purposely don’t bring up my encounter with Alex last night.
As we mix some more cocktails in the kitchen, Kevin’s phone rings and he takes the call. “Mason wants to know if he can stop by,” he whispers as I pick a piece of fluff out of Stella’s fine, inch-long hair. “He’s a couple of houses down.”
“Sure!” I enthuse. After all, Jack won’t be back for another couple of hours, so there’s no chance of them crossing paths.
Mason turns up ten minutes later, mildly inebriated and talking about two adorable recently married lesbian friends of his, Josie and Mae. “Josie wants to know if you guys wanna join her at their place. It’s like ten blocks down, on the beach front, like ten–fifteen minutes’ walk. They’ve hired one of the most famous sushi chefs in the country and they’ve got this vintage sake—”
“Hell, yeah!” Kevin exclaims as he jumps up off the sofa and onto his feet, his lean abs flexing under his too-tight purple T-shirt.
Stella gets up and puts her jacket on over her bosom-squeezing pastel-blue summer dress. “What do you say, sweetie?”
“No, you guys go,” I answer, forcing a yawn. “I’m just gonna have a quiet night in.”
Kevin pulls his most over-the-top dramatic face. “Girl gone lost her damn mind!” he sings in the preposterous mock-southern accent he attempts whenever he gets drunk. “When did Miss Party Animal turn into an old fart?”
“Come on, Jess,” implores Mason. “It’s Friday night. The only reason they invited me is because they think I’m bringing your hot ass.”
“Mmm, why do I always feel like a piece of meat when I’m around you people? Honestly, guys, I’m so tired. I just want to get in bed and read a book.”
“Your own private sushi chef and sake?” Kevin repeats slowly, eyeing me as if I’m nuts.
“Okay, you can all get the hell out,” I shout in jest.
“Hey, I’m supposed to be the office bitch,” protests Kevin.
I accompany them to the front door where they kiss me goodbye. As I watch them walk down the front steps, the warm glow of the fading late-summer evening coupled with the giddiness I feel from my very silly drink leave me wanting to seize the moment and not allow the malignant energy clinging to me from my encounter with Alex ruin what should be a new start and a carefree week.
“Okay, what the hell!” I shout as they all turn to look at each other with knowing grins on their faces. “Give me one minute!”
I run upstairs and run a brush through my wavy hair and pull it back into a messy bun, rub some lip stain on my cheeks and lips, spray some lemon essential oil mist onto my neck and bolt down the stairs wearing my same thin navy beach pants and white T-shirt before grabbing my old black purse and my fair-trade shawl that I wrap around my bare shoulders as I lock the door and join my friends. I link arms with Kevin and we walk down the street giddily. As we reach the end of the block, I decide to text Jack to let him know where we’re going in case he gets home early.
“Shit,” I moan as I see the empty battery symbol on my phone which I forgot to charge when I got home earlier. “My phone’s dead. I wanted to let Jack know I’m going out…”
Kevin takes my phone off me and shoves it into my purse. “Okay, you seriously need to disconnect from the Jackson Wilder mainframe. I mean, I know he’s one hot piece of ass, but—”
“Josie’s got the same phone,” interjects Mason. “She’ll have a charger at her place.”
“See, Miss I can’t do shit without telling my husband first,” teases Kevin.
“Cut it out, Kev,” Mason shoots back. “When you’re in a relationship, you can barely wipe your ass without talking it over with whatever sucker you’re dating.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” laughs Stella.
“Hey, whose side are you on?” protests Kevin.
I laugh at both of them, so grateful to have my nutty, loyal friends in my life and to be able to spend some time with Mason again after so long.
The bustling streets are lined with thickets of tall trees which caress the dark sky in a majestic greeting. We turn right at an intersection and join the beach where drunken party-goers are laughing and dancing and enjoying the sharp and suddenly chilly breeze that has been blown in from the ocean after the crazy-hot day. The beach is a vibrant mishmash of beer, smoke, flowy summer dresses and well-heeled men in white shorts.
As we walk past a group of people standing around a fire, I do a double-take as I recognize a familiar face—Jack’s friend, Noah. I look again and see Greg and a couple of other men standing next to him, plastic beer-filled cups in hand.
“Just a minute, guys,” I say before walking over to them with my friends following a few feet behind.
“Hey, you two,” I sing warmly, embracing Noah and then Greg. “Where’s Jack?” I look around, half-expecting him to pop up from behind a puff of smoke.
Noah shoots me a confused look. “Uh, I don’t know. Isn’t he… with you?” He spots the sudden frown on my unsettled face and turns to look at Greg awkwardly.
“We, uh, haven’t seen him since last night,” stammers Greg, looking genuinely stumped.
I glance at Stella who looks down as Kevin angrily mutters something under his breath. A cascade of dread washes over me.
“Oh, I thought he was— I must have, uh, misunderstood. Sorry. My bad,” I stutter, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Sure,” replies Noah, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Okay, well, enjoy the night,” I manage with an attempt at a smile.
The four of us continue our walk along the beach for a minute or so, though this time it’s in silence, with Stella and Kevin turning to glance at me and each other as we navigate our way through the drunken merriment.
Energy seeps from my body like water pouring from a bottle, leaving my limbs feeling barely there as I absorb the fact that Jack lied to me about his plans for tonight. My mind scrambles in an attempt to muster up a reasonable explanation: Maybe he went to see a different friend? Maybe I heard the wrong names? Maybe he’s with my parents? Maybe he had to work? Maybe he’s planning some surprise for me?
Every idea I force onto the table sounds implausible, ridiculous even. As a tremor of angst weakens me, I stop in my tracks and stare at the sand under my feet.
God, I can’t go through this again.
A few steps ahead, my friends turn back to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I utter with a shake of the head and quickly turn towards the houses on the beach front, aiming for a path between two large dwellings that will lead me to the main road.
“Jess!” Stella and Kevin run after me, catching up to me in a few bounds.
“I’m sorry, guys,” I stammer. “I need to find out where he is.”
“We’re coming with you,” Kevin says.
“No! I don’t want to ruin another evening on this shit! It’s probably just a misunderstanding. Just go to the party, please, otherwise I’ll feel fucking terrible.”
Kevin and Stella turn to look at each other as Mason catches up, looking slightly confused, as if he’s not quite sure what the problem is.
“We’re coming, sweetie,” Stella says. “No way in hell we’re leaving you alone right now.”
“Guys, please—”
“We’re coming!” Stella insists, squeezing my arm.
“Okay,” I breathe shakily.
“I think I’ll have to go, Jess,” Mason says. “I have some people waiting for me at Josie’s.”
“Sure. Of course. I’m so sorry. I just need to check something. It’s probably nothing.”
“I know,” he responds, his pretty hazel eyes soft and earnest. “Hey, it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve been there many a time, believe me.”
I nod, wishing I could. We say goodbye and as he turns to leave, a thought hits me. “Mason! Please don’t say anything to… anyone. I mean anyone at the party or anything.”
“Sure. Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
Kevin, Stella and I head briskly up the sandy alleyway to the main road and turn left in the direction of the rental house.
“Guys, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to ruin your night,” I say, hating that I’m drawing them into this dysfunctional crap once again.
“Hey! Stop that now,” Kevin responds. “You’d do the same for us and you know it, miss. I’m going to start smacking you if you say sorry again.”
“What do you want to do?” Stella asks me as we pass under murky pines.
I shake my head in uneasy disbelief, my mind racing, cortisol coursing through my system. “I need to find out what he’s doing. I’ve got no other choice.”
“Okay, well, let’s think things through,” she responds. “Is there any chance you just misheard the names of the friends he—”
“No. I’m sure he said Noah and Greg.”
“Does he have other friends here?” she asks.
“Probably,” I answer, “but no one he’d have any reason not to tell me about.”
“Is there anyone else he knows here?” Stella buttons up her jacket as the wind starts to bite.
“We saw Alex Frost last night,” I stammer, “at Richard and Shelley’s party.”
“I thought so,” Stella spits out. “I saw that bitch there as I was leaving.”
“But he was so rude to her,” I protest. “There’s no way they’re still in contact. He basically told her to fuck off right to her face, right in front of me.”
“Could he have gone to see her to confront her, warn her to stay away or something?” asks Kevin.
“I doubt it. He said what he had to say to her. It’d just be dragging the situation out. It must be someone else.”
Grumbling clouds almost beat us to the guest house where I pull out my car keys and unlock the doors of the Jaguar. “Guys, I need to find out where he is.”
“Why don’t you give him a call?” asks Kevin.
“No. I can’t go by what he tells me. I can’t trust anything he says anymore. I need to do this, for my life.”
“We can’t just go driving around the Hamptons in the dark looking for some tall dude with good hair,” moans Kevin. “He took a taxi. There isn’t even a car we can look out for.”
“How about the taxi company?” I ask Stella. “Do you think they’d tell me where they dropped him off?”
“They wouldn’t do it,” retorts Kevin.
“Let me try,” says Stella before opening the front passenger door and getting in. Kevin and I follow.
“Blue Cab?” she asks, taking out her phone.
I nod and she makes the call.
“Hello, sir. We need your help. I am the attorney of a client you picked up earlier today. I’m working with the East Hampton police department. A family member of my client, Jackson Wilder, has been involved in an accident and we urgently need to contact him.”
Kevin and I gape at her, open-mouthed.
“He was picked up this evening around seven-thirty at 3689 Henley and we need to know the address he was dropped off at as soon as possible. His cellphone is not working.” She rolls her eyes at me as the person on the other line talks to her. “Yes, I understand that, sir, but this is now a question of life and death and I’m sure your company wouldn’t want to be responsible should anything— Thank you very much. Yes, same number, as soon as possible, please.”
She hangs up. “He’ll speak to his manager. They’ll call back in five.”
Three agonizing minutes later, the phone rings.
“222 Lukin Avenue. Thank you very much, sir. We’re very grateful,” Stella purrs as she hangs up.
She types the address into her phone and hands it to me and Kevin. We look at a bird’s eye view of the large house to the north west of Wainscott.
“Do you know who lives there?” I ask, wishing today wasn’t the day I let the battery go dead on my phone.
“It looks like a rental,” says Stella. “It’s on a rental website—must be being leased out for the summer.”
“Okay, let’s go,” I say purposefully as my friends buckle their seatbelts.
I back out of the driveway and turn left, driving west for about ten minutes before following the directions that Stella gives me until we finally arrive at the right street, straining our eyes through the dark as we try to make out the numbers 222.
“There it is!” shouts Kevin.
As we pull up a few feet beyond the closed gate of the house, I say a silent prayer that my husband isn’t inside.
