SUMMER SWAP // Chapter 8

Sully found Byron at last, sitting in the hot tub at the back of the fourth deck, all by himself. He slid the door closed behind him and held up his hand high to show Byron he’d brought two frosty beer bottles. Byron clapped his hands, then held them out, like Sully should throw him the bottle.

“Last thing we need is a bottle breaking in the hot tub,” he said, coming over, leaning on the edge, passing the bottle to Byron. “You still buck?”

Byron twisted off the cap, put it on the edge of the hot tub, and took a swig from the bottle. He shrugged. “Yeah, I came up here. Everyone bailed on me down at the pool. Carla and Arlo are in and out every once in awhile. I think they’re in the kitchen now.”

“Sorry for bailing,” Sully said, hiking a leg into the tub—wearing his swim shorts now—then sinking down in the roiling water opposite Byron. Beyond Byron: the view of the sea and the sky. The hot water bubbled up around his neck and he got a jet on the small of his back. “Duty called,” he said.

Byron scrunched his nose. “I don’t think I need to know that.”

Sully leaned his head back, looking down his nose at Byron through half-lidded eyes. “I mean sex, right? I didn’t mean pooping.”

“Oh, good,” Byron said. “Yeah, you took off. I guess Scarlet went to look for you later. Cheyenne went to make something to eat and didn’t come back. It was just me and Philippe standing around naked.”

“That would be awkward.”

Byron rolled his eyes. “Philippe went to go find Cody or something. I came up to the hot tub for some time alone.”

“Now here’s me intruding,” Sully said and laughed.

“I don’t mind,” Byron said. “I just thought we were going to do something fun.”

“I did something fun,” he said and smiled devilishly.

“Yeah, I should do that, too,” Byron muttered.

Of course Byron meant do it with Cheyenne, but Sully couldn’t help thinking right away at first he’d meant with Scarlet.

Scarlet had really worked him over. All that taunting had rewired his brain, and now he was horny as a teenager, every little comment having a sexual spin, his penis like a lightning rod, drawing all that worldly energy to its electric tip. He chuckled and drank some beer. “Maybe we could do something fun later.”

Byron nodded.

And now Sully was thinking again that what he’d just said could mean all four of them getting naked.

He decided the best thing would be honesty. He said, “You know earlier what you told me?”

Byron frowned and cocked his head.

“About Cheyenne?”

Byron’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

“She say who with?”

Byron looked confused. Then he said, “Yeah—with Cody. Why, did she say something else to Scarlet?”

Sully shook his head. “No, it was me being stupid. It’s what happens when girls start taking their clothes off around me, my brain just totally stopped working.”

Byron said, “You and me both.”

“Cheers,” Sully said, and leaned forward so they could click the necks of their bottles together.

“No,” he said. “For a minute I thought you meant me.”

“You who?” Then Byron laughed. “You thought I meant Chey wanted me to watch her with you?”

“No, not me specifically. But I thought maybe I’d be in the mix.”

“Oh,” Byron said, then he frowned, contemplating it. “No, she said Cody. You guys weren’t supposed to know any of this.”

“I’m glad we found out. . . . Maybe I’m not,” he said and chuckled. Then: “No, I am glad. Are you still good with it it?”

Byron said, “The truth? Yeah, sometimes good, sometimes bad. No, not bad. Weird. And the weirdest thing—I know that I want to do it again.”

“Get some more Carla?”

Byron said, “I think that makes Chey nervous.”

“Wait—it makes her nervous that you would be with Carla? That’s ridiculous. She’s with Cody, what’re you supposed to do?”

“Watch,” he said.

“That’s a bum deal.”

“She wants me to do it.”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Byron said, then looked up, craning his neck over the headrest and looking up at the sky beyond the shield of the fifth deck’s overhang. “Maybe I want to watch. I don’t know.” He sniffled, sat straighter and rubbed his nose.

Sully sat in long contemplation, both of them with their minds elsewhere, both running over different patterns of thought, trying to make sense of this. He said it point blank: “How is it with this possibility of swinging it’s two guys, you and me, who are the ones who need the most convincing?”

“Wait—Scarlet wants to swing?”

Sully shook his head in slow, unconvincing wags. “I don’t think so. She’s saying no, but it’s one of those nos where I think there’s more going on than the word might say.”

Those awful things she whispered in his ear while she rode him cowgirl style—how she wanted to play with Philippe’s big penis, not have sex with him, just make it get hard—were things he would never forget. His wife said things to him so dirty it shocked him she had it in her.

“What do you think she wants to do?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “You and I married two messed up sorority sisters. I don’t think either of them is happy with us being with Carla, but they sure as shit have got their eyes on their own prize.”

“Scarlet wants to be with Cody?”

Sully closed his eyes and shook his head. “No offense, Byron, I don’t know if I’d like that.”

“Her with Cody?”

“Maybe there’s a line. Cody is just too good-looking. Too rich. You know?”

Byron looked down lamenting, “You don’t think I should have let Chey go with him.”

He said, “Carla seduced you, Byron. I don’t think there was any way for you to think it through first.”

Byron looked up. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

“No,” he said, adamant, somehow worried if he scared Byron off the idea, he wouldn’t be able to . . . Able to what? “You said you had a great time and everything, and you’re thinking of doing it again.”

Byron frowned, and chewed the corner of his mouth

“What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Byron said.

“No, tell me.”

Byron shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” he said at last.

But Sully was intrigued. “What, Byron—you have an idea?”

“No,” he said, “it’s not an idea.” He took a drink of beer, put both hands wrapped around the bottle and stared into the hot tub water bubbling between them. “None of the girls want us to be with Carla”—he looked up at Sully—“You don’t want Scarlet with Cody, and now I’m thinking maybe Cody is too ideal a male specimen . . .”

“He’s a lot.”

“So . . . yeah.”

Sully stared at Byron, Byron’s eyes glassy, lips parted slightly. He waited for more but Byron said nothing. “So what? What are you saying?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, but I do know if this were a Rubik’s cube I’d have a couple of solid rows lined up with the colors the way I wanted.”

“Click-click-click, Byron,” he said, anxious and expectant, making a Rubik’s cube motion with his hands and almost spilling his beer. “Fill in the blanks for me, I suck at puzzles.”

“You don’t see it? Never mind. It’s stupid anyway.”

Sully sat back, mad that he hadn’t figured out the puzzle. He worked it around in his own mind and then couldn’t believe what it could be. “You don’t mean . . .?”

Byron looked innocent. “Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Sully said, unsure of himself. “I want to say it’s not a problem, but then I’m afraid I’m going to end up in a bedroom with Philippe because I’m not thinking what you’re thinking at all.”

Byron burst out laughing and almost choked on a mouthful of beer. Sully laughed too, and then kicked Byron’s leg under the water.

Byron said, “I’m not saying we should do it. I’m just saying . . .”

“The puzzle pieces line up.”

“What is it I’m saying, Sully?”

Sully leaned closer. “Keep it close. Keep it in the family. Is that what you’re saying?”

Byron frowned. “Not that close. Not family.”

Sully rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Byron.” He pointed a finger to Byron, to himself, to Byron, and back again. “Keep it close. Sorority sisters and sorority sisters’ husbands.”

Byron grimaced, worried. “Is that crazy?”

“I need you to say it for me.”

“I can’t even say it.”

“Byron, I need a confirmation code.”

“No, you say it.”

Sully gritted his teeth and started with the most favorable angle. “You and Scarlet”—talking slow, locking eyes with Byron, waiting for any mistakes—“me with Cheyenne. You watch Cheyenne.”

“With you,” Byron said, slow and deliberate.

Sully sat back. “Where’s Scarlet?”

Byron made a funny face and rolled his eyes around. “I guess she’s watching too.”

Sully said, “I don’t know about that. Two ways that could go wrong. She can get mad at me, or I can flub my game. You know, because she’s watching me.”

“We can take it slow. It’s not as crazy as Carla and Cody.”

“Baby steps,” Sully muttered to himself. “I don’t even know if Scarlet wants in on this. Besides . . .”

“Besides what?”

Sully flapped his hand around, trying to come up with a way to say what he wanted to say—wondering if he should say it. “If Scarlet was interested in this sort of thing, she expressed a keenness for a different person.”

“Oh,” Byron said. “Philippe.”

Scarlet had made it so obvious even Byron saw it despite the fog Cheyenne had him clouded in. Sully said, “I don’t know if she was serious or not. I think she was just doing it to make me mad, you know? Drive me crazy?”

“Cheyenne told me she couldn’t be with Philippe because of, you know.” Byron made a sickly face and looked away.

The whole monster penis deal. “Scarlet said the same thing.”

Byron looked back. “So she doesn’t want to?”

“It’s complicated,” Sully said, waving it off. “I don’t know what the hell she wants to do with him. I hate to think about it.”

They sat in silence, two masterminds lost in thought, contemplating their futures. Sully said, “One thing’s for sure, if anything like that happened, we’d have to be honest with each other. And the girls. I wouldn’t want any bad blood between them. For you and me. For me and Chey, or you and Scarlet. So whatever we do, we communicate, okay?”

“All right,” Byron said, nodding, then drained the last of his beer. “Let’s see what happens.”