Summer Swap 6-3

Something troubled Byron and he didn’t want to say what it was. It was in the way he wouldn’t look at her right now, his eyes down, brow furrowed in thought, but mostly it was the way his lips pursed, the way his lower lip encroached on his upper lip, pushing it upward and forming a downturned crescent. Not unhappiness. Doubtfulness. Like he had bad news to break to her and he didn’t know how to say it—but he had to be careful because if he said whatever it was he wanted to say, he might hurt her feelings. The expression wasn’t new to her. She’d seen it a few times before. Like when she would get a great and exciting idea and he’d try to bring her down to reality, explain how the real world worked. Not in a mansplaining way, always with kindness, but it still had the effect of making her subordinate to his intellect, like she was the kooky creative one and he was the grown up and sensible one who made the decisions because his head wasn’t in the clouds and his feet were on the ground.

“Say it, Byron.”

Now he looked aside like what he had to say wasn’t a big deal, but they both knew it was a big deal. “Well, what did Cody say to you?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“You don’t understand? How did he... Let me put it this way: did Cody say something about wanting to get to know you better, or was it watching me on the prow?”

“You mean you with Carla?” Byron couldn’t say Carla’s name, again not wanting to make his wife mad. “Cody’s wanted to be with me for a long time and there are things he wants to explore that we never got around to.”

“Okay,” Byron said, nodding, accepting her answer.

“You don’t believe me?”

Now he looked shocked as though she’d misrepresented him. “Why wouldn’t I believe you, Chey?”

“Just the way you said okay.”

“You answered me and I said okay. I just...”

“Would you please say what you want to say and don’t spare my feelings.”

Now he was puzzled but she knew she’d pegged him right. He said, “I’m surprised to hear you want to explore being more... What’s the word? Not intimate, but what, intimacy? Emotion.”

“You did with Carla.”

“I guess, but...”

“But what?”

Byron scratched his neck, uncomfortable. “I don’t want that with Carla.”

“Right, but you got it. Don’t you see that? It’s easy to say you don’t want it when you get it.”

Now he had no more to say, his lips pursing in a straight line that meant he would say no more. And what could he say? She’d watched him with Carla, saw how they behaved together. She and Cody had been a couple of sex maniacs. That’s what seemed appropriate. Byron would say he was just being himself, and that was right, but if he didn’t see it, didn’t see how that might be the wrong thing, then maybe she was wrong to think it was wrong in the first place.

He changed the subject, the pursed lips pulling into a pleasant smile, his face turning to hers. “Thank you for everything you did to make it happen.”

She showed a sheepish smirk, rolling her eyes. It had been difficult to do, difficult to keep it a secret, of course, but also difficult to commit to, given the nature of what she’d organized. It wasn’t exactly a birthday party. In the end, despite riding a really fun and not embarrassing at all anxiety wave last night, it had been a good thing. The right thing; a noble thing.

“I hope you had fun,” she said.

“The uniform thing was weird, that’s for sure.”

“You looked good in it.”

“Oh, yeah? Want me to try it on for you?”

She scrunched her nose, shaking her head.

“No, I guess not,” he said.

The way he sat, looking down at the floor, made her feel guilty for wrecking his fun night with all her own business and bad attitude. She said, “I like grown-up Byron, that’s the guy I fell for. I mean, I’m sure you were a cutie pie in high school, but I like you the way you are now.”

“Aw shucks,” he said, cocking his head at her and batting his eyelashes boyishly.

“Yeah, not that Byron,” she said, putting her hand on his face and shoving him away, both of them laughing.

Then he stood up and showed perfect posture, looming over her, head tipped at a cocky angle. “You want this Byron,” he said, tone even and measured, voice deepened.

She raised her face and closed her eyes, pooching out her lips. Byron kissed them.

But she stopped him then, before he took it too far. “You need to shower first,” she said, patting his shoulders.

* * *

Scarlet slept in with Sully till almost ten. They didn’t emerge from their suite until half past.

Cody, Carla, Byron, and Arlo were puttering around the kitchen, Arlo seeing them coming and saying, “There they are—Byron was speculating you guys might have fallen overboard last night.”

“We’re up, we’re up,” Sully said, spreading his arms wide like arriving royalty.

Arlo said, “Well, you’re fifteen minutes late for breakfast. Byron ate the last of the french toast thinking you guys might have floated out to sea.”

“What the hell, Byron?”

“It was so fucking good, Sully,” Byron said. “I don’t even feel a little guilty.”

Cody looked up from his phone, brightening when he saw her, looking her up and down. Sully put Byron in an affectionate headlock.

Cody said, “Hey, guys, a head’s up: the cleaning crew is coming in the afternoon.”

She said, “When?”

“Around two. So hide your drugs and guns and your copies of Inches magazine, all your dildos, whips and chains, strangled prostitutes; whatever you guys get up to in your suites.”

Sully loosened his headlock, turning to the side, shouting to Chey who sat in the lounge across the way with Lily: “Chey!”

“What?”

“Hide your strap-on.”

“Idiot,” Byron said, laughing and pushing Sully away.

Chey was motioning to her with urgency, like there was some juicy gossip to report. Scarlet held up a one-sec finger, turning to Cody. “Where are Philippe and Paloma?”

“Sunning themselves, I think. Out on the swimming deck.”

There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to ask, but didn’t want to do it in front of everyone. Wanted Cody to say something without her asking, say something like they were cool with last night, even though you did a power move on them, then without realizing it, also gave them a kind of a middle finger by inviting me to stay and watch. And a little more, too.

Cody said nothing, turning to hold Carla from behind as she poured herself orange juice, dancing with her—then swiping her glass and downing it.

“Scar!”

Scarlet turned to see Chey waving her over, out of patience. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, crossing out of the kitchen and into the lounge, over to where Lily and Chey sat on couches, Chey with a coffee and a pillow in her lap. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Chey said to Lily, “Tell her.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Lily said, looking blushed with embarrassment.

Chey patted the spot next to her and told Scarlet to, “Sit, sit.” Then she raised her coffee cup and got Byron’s attention, saying to him in the kitchen, “Can we get some more coffees?”

“Coming right up,” Byron said.

“Okay,” Chey said. “Remember when we heard Lily’s shop got audited?”

“Yeah?”

“She didn’t get audited.”

Scarlet shrugged her shoulders, no idea where this was going. “I don’t get it.” Then she looked to Lily for more info. “It was Arlo who said you were audited.”

Lily’s eyes rolled around, sweet and shy, but something else going on behind those cornsilk eyes. She exhaled. “Oh, well, yeah. He audited me.”

“Who did? He did? Arlo? Why?”

“To teach me a lesson,” Lily said, wringing her fingers together. “To show me what it was like. I was late filing by like a day and he...” She started to smile, too flummoxed to look at either of them.

“That sounds kind of mean,” Scarlet said.

Lily quickly corrected her. “Oh gosh, no, I liked it. It taught me a lesson. You should see how tight my books are now.”

“So you didn’t get audited?”

“Not by the IRS. By Arlo,” Chey said, tapping Scarlet’s arm with the backs of her fingers like there was more to this she should see.

Scarlet said, “Why did he say that then? He said you were audited and you were still upset about it. That’s what he said after you broke the plate.”

Lily’s eyes widened and now she looked guilty as well as shameful. “Oh, that? Yeah, no that was, well, I guess it was kind of related.”

“What’s going on with you two?”

Lily said, “We’re just messing around with each other.”

“You looked really mad.”

“I was supposed to look mad,” Lily said and looked away again.

“All right, I guess,” Scarlet said. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

Lily chuckled, almost insulted, but then met Scarlet’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Scarlet. Let me assure you: I couldn’t possibly be happier.”

Chey was dissatisfied now, slumping back in the couch. “I thought it was more than that.”

Scarlet asked her how and Chey leaned forward again, this time saying, “Doesn’t it sound, kind of, I don’t know... Dominant?”

Scarlet scoffed and said to Lily with a wry smile, “Yeah, Lily. Is Arlo dominant?”

Lily didn’t get it, her mouth squishing to one side. She said, “Arlo?”

Both Chey and Scarlet started to laugh but tried to include Lily so she wouldn’t think they were laughing at her. “We’re just trying to picture Arlo like, you know, dominant.” Was there another word for what she meant? She didn’t want to accidentally insult Lily—but at least Lily played along and didn’t look worried.

Chey said, “Like maybe the cleaners would find leather stuff in your room.”

“Oh,” Lily said, giggling, as if it all made sense now. “No, we left that stuff at home.”

Now all three of them laughed together, loud enough everyone from the kitchen looked over to see what the hell had happened. When they were done and Byron had brought them coffee, a fresh cup for Scarlet, Scarlet asked Chey how everything went last night.

“It was good. I came to my senses.”

Scarlet could tell there was more to the story, but Chey didn’t want to divulge in front of Lily.

Then Lily said, “How about you, Scarlet? How did your night go?”

“I think it fizzled,” Chey said knowingly.

“I don’t think it did,” Lily said in a singsong.

Chey said, “What do you mean?”

“She had a visitor.”

Chey turned to Scarlet. “You did? Who?”

“Oh, uh...” Then she shook her head, wondering what Lily knew and what the heck she was referring to.

“It’s not who you think,” Lily said, meaning Lily understood—Scarlet was sure—that she knew Scarlet and Sully had swung with Philippe. But it wasn’t Philippe.

“I’m not saying who it is,” Lily said, trying to play along as a good friend, putting up her hands in surrender, miming the act of zipping her mouth closed, then collecting her coffee cup and sipping from it.

Chey thought about it, cocking her head, eyes darting around. Then scowled—remembering she’d left a certain someone in Scarlet’s bed last night.

She turned to Scarlet, face drawn and pale, looking unhappy. She said, “Cody?”