Summer Swap 4.2

Scarlet said to Sully as he climbed into the tub with her, “First of all, you can forget it.”

“Forget what?” Sully said, totally knowing what she meant.

As he slipped into the water across from her, his upright erection swallowed by bubbles, she said, “I’m closed for business.”

“You’re talking about my erection? Don’t flatter yourself. This erection has nothing to do with you.” He eased into the water, face transforming to ecstasy like he’d just injected heroin or something, his handsome features sagging downward, lips parting. It deflated his sly joke.

“Thoughts of Philippe?” As soon as she said it, she thought it sounded stupid—but Carla had put it in her head that her husband might have messed around with Philippe after they had rendered her useless and left her in a sex puddle on Philippe’s bed.

His sleeping eyes flickered open. “What was that?”

“You heard me. What’s got my man’s pecker so wooden if it’s not me?”

Sully grunted to dismiss her, folding his hands over his stomach under the mountain range of bubbles that separated them in Carla’s big round Jacuzzi tub. His eyes fluttered open again. “Are you serious?”

“About you and Philippe?”

Sully looked irritated for a moment. “No,” he said. “About you being closed for business.”

“I just don’t want you putting any moves on me at the moment.”

“Are you sore?”

“What do you think?”

Sully sat straight now, eyes returned to normal, showing concern. “Are you really okay? You’re not hurt or something, are you?” His bare butt squeaked on the tub’s bottom as he scooted closer to her, his hands going to touch on either side of her waist. She raised her knees in automatic defense.

“I’m fine, baby.”

“I never thought of that,” he said, looking aside, stroking thumbs on her ribs. “And I just left you in bed without checking on you.”

“You know who looked out for me?—Carla.”

“What do you mean?”

“Brought me breakfast in bed.”

Sully grimaced, knowing that meant Carla knew she’d find Scarlet in Philippe’s bed. “She asked me point blank, babe. I couldn’t even lie, I just stood there stammering and she knew right away.”

“It’s fine, Sully,” she said, stroking his cheek. “That’s how I knew Paloma was coming. Carla told me.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “So, what do you think? About Paloma, I mean.”

“I freaked out at first, but now”—she shrugged a shoulder—“I don’t know what to think.”

“She’s Brazilian.”

“What does that mean? You think she knows jiu-jitsu or something? She’s from Rio, her dad was a diplomat, she’s not exactly some favela street fighter, babe.”

“I just mean she’s passionate.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not passionate?”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, then dipped his mouth low and blew a cloud of bubbles that splatted on her neck. “I mean she might be mad even though we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They lived in a polycule.”

“What is a polycule anyway, Scar?”

“I don’t know, it’s like it sounds.”

“It sounds like chemistry class.”

They both snickered and bowed their heads, touching hairlines. It had been a long and wild night for them both and this was the first time they had together since they’d slept. She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them.

Sully said, “Are we open about it with her?”

“Like I shake her hand, say hey, Paloma, long time no see. Me and Sully over there had a threesome with your ex last night.”

“Something like that.”

“Let’s play it by ear.”

“Did you tell Cheyenne?”

She screwed her mouth to one side. “Yeah. I told her. Are you going to tell Byron?”

“No. Or yeah. Maybe. What did Chey say?”

“She thought it was great. She knew it was going to happen.”

“Why are we hiding it from everyone then?”

Scarlet sighed and looked up at the wood paneled ceiling, scooping warm water onto Sully’s shoulders. “I guess it’s Lily and Arlo.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what they would think.”

“They must know something’s going on by now. . . . Hey, you know what’s funny? I told Chey about our night with Philippe— but I didn’t tell her something else...”

Sully’s eyebrows shot up, eager to hear some gossip. “Oh yeah? What didn’t you tell her?”

She licked her lower lip, smiling. “Carla told me she has the hots for Byron. Like the sexual hots. She told me she masturbates over him.”

Sully pulled back. “Oh, get real.”

“I think she was serious.”

“No, she wasn’t. She’s fucking with you.”

“No, she admitted it like it was this weird thing. Like she’s got a type and the type isn’t Cody.”

“Cody’s everybody’s type, Scarlet.”

“She said she likes boyish men. Like sleek and youthful.”

“I’m youthful.”

Her mouth pursed to a slim line and she studied her husband. He knew he was caught and looked away, trying to hide his grin. “Is that why you’re so dubious right now? You’re jealous of Byron.”

“I’m not jealous of Byron. And what the hell, you’re jealous now. Look at you getting mad at me after what we did last night.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Not mad,” he muttered. “Just superior.”

She eyed him, scratched the corner of her mouth. “I might be closed for business a lot longer than I thought.”

Sully said, “Closed to me or to everyone?”

Her expression and mood soured. “Maybe we shouldn’t joke around like this. I feel a little emotional.”

“Me too.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

He shook his head no, expression serious.

“You can be mad.”

“I’m not. We did it together.”

“I tricked you into coming down to Philippe’s room.”

“Maybe you were right to do it.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

With the garlic cloves on an iron pan skimmed with ghee and roasting in the outdoor oven, Arlo began trimming sprigs of fresh thyme, looking to bundle them into a brush for basting the Mangalitza pork with later this evening, closer to dinner. Lily mounted the steps from the lower deck, book in hand, bookmark tassel swaying in the breeze. Under the shade of her sunhat Lily smiled, coming to join him in the outdoor kitchen. She looked at peace today with what he’d arranged for her last night, wearing her sensible two-piece swimsuit and a caftan, enjoying a vacation day reading outdoors. A very Lily thing to do—which made Arlo happy.

He asked her how her book was as she came into the kitchen area, and she told him it was good, sliding it onto a clean space on the countertop, then putting her arms around his neck and laying her cheek on his chest. He hugged her.

She said, “What are you making?”

“I’m going to do the pork tonight.”

“Sounds great,” she sighed. “How are you going to cook it?”

“Oven roasted. With fruit, but I don’t know what kind yet.”

“Apples are too rudimentary. Too expected.”

“I’m thinking citrus.”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered. She slunk her light body against his, and he hugged her tighter. The drone of an approaching boat got both of them loosening their clutch and turning toward the shore side of the yacht. They strolled to the hand railing together, then watched the small white speedboat on the horizon zip straight toward them, jouncing on the bright turquoise waves.

Lily said, “It’s so weird Paloma’s coming. I mean, not in a bad way, just... it’s surprising. I thought they weren’t together anymore, and that it was official. Like paperwork official.”

“Paperwork means little in affairs of the heart, Lily.”

“That’s so true, baby.”

“If she misses him and he misses her, no paperwork can keep them apart. And when you sign papers, when you deal with bureaucrats, there’s no magic anymore. Lawyers will sell you on duty and protocol, but that’s all it is: salesmanship. It was probably the draw of protocol that got the ball rolling, and once that ball is rolling it’s not the lovers in charge anymore. There’s someone else behind the wheel. Then when the bureaucrats are gone, the heart suffers.”

Lily squeezed next to him and put her arms around his waist while they watched the boat get close enough to see the passengers; Byron and Paloma standing, Cody manning the controls behind aviator sunglasses.

Lily said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

As the boat slowed down its motors and veered toward the rear of the yacht, Cody spotted them and waved. Arlo waved in return, but Lily hugged Arlo tighter. He chuckled and smoothed his arms on her back, knowing what his wife thought of Cody right now.

Without saying anything, they both followed along the hand railing, down the steps to the lower deck to where Lily had been reading, and went to watch Cody steer the boat to the yacht’s back bay. The bay doors retracted, the panels clattering as they rolled upward. From where they stood, he and Lily could watch the speedboat enter the bay where the boat and the wave runners were stored.

Lily said, “What about all the bad things Philippe’s been up to on the boat? How do you think Paloma will take that?”

“That’s for them to decide, baby.”

“All the men here are naughty.”

He chuckled, picturing Lily’s surly face, her pink lips pooched out. “All men are bad, Lily.”

“Except you.” Then she darted her head around to make sure they were alone and no one overheard them, adding then: “Daddy.”

“Sh-shh,” he said, putting his arm around her and holding her close again. Down below, the speedboat entered the channel between the two swimming docks, and Byron steadied the boat against the railing, deciding to disembark at one of the swimming docks instead of the boat garage. Byron’s hair was a tangled mess from the wind, but Paloma wore a sunhat not unlike Lily’s. Byron stepped off, a little unsteady after bouncing around the speedboat, but he returned to give Paloma a hand. Cody was talking but couldn’t be heard from the higher deck they were on.

Lily said, “Was it Cody?”

It was the first time she’d asked him the direct question. Last night all she’d wanted was to cuddle and forget what had happened. He said, “You don’t want to know, Lily.”

“I do, Daddy,” she said, the trace of a whine in her voice. Then quieter, “It wasn’t Byron.”

“No,” he admitted.

“So Cody or Sully,” she said.

“Or Philippe.”

“It wasn’t Philippe,” she said.

He sighed, a heavy feeling over his heart. If she wanted to know, he would tell her. He set her back and turned her to face him. The brim of her sunhat sagged and he had to fold it up to see her eyes. “Do you have to know?”

Her lips pooched then she sucked them in, her mouth squirming around, her eyes shifty, but then returning to his and settling her gaze on his. “I don’t have to but I want to.”

He said, “It wasn’t Sully and it wasn’t Cody.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It wasn’t Cody?”

“I swear it wasn’t.”

A small creeping smile began, and she narrowed her eyes. “It was you, wasn’t it?” She beat him once on the chest with her small fist. He gathered the fist between his two hands and held it over his heart. As Lily watched him, her features began to fall as she saw there was more to the story.

He shook his head no.

She whispered, “It wasn’t you?”

“Lily, honey... what if I told you it wasn’t any of our friends on the boat?”

Lily’s eyes widened with fear.