The Eastmans had a house in Jamaica, an old plantation owner’s spread, perched in the lush green hills to the east of Montego Bay with breathtaking views of the sea. Kate thought of it as her house, since the stepmonsters never visited and didn’t give a crap about it. For Kate, it was the place where she’d frolicked with her mother as a child, but Victoria would sell the house in a heartbeat if she could find a buyer. Luckily, she couldn’t, since the snowbirds had long since departed Jamaica in favor of more fashionable isles like Anguilla and St. Bart’s. The house had been in the Eastman family since early in the previous century, ever since Kate’s great-grandfather took an interest in a cane plantation and rum factory at the tail end of Prohibition. Later generations of Eastmans decided the alcohol business was too low-class, and sold the family interest and rolled the money into a beach resort that had been quite chic for a time, back in the heyday of James Bond and martinis and such. Then the socialists came to power in Jamaica and threatened to nationalize everything, and Kate’s grandfather let the resort go for a song. Somehow through thick and thin they’d held on to the house, and Kate had taken to saying that Keniston should give it to her as a twenty-first-birthday present, that she would go live there and care for the place and start a bed-and-breakfast or something. She would never actually do that—Kate, changing the bedsheets of strangers?—but she hated the thought of losing a house that held precious childhood memories.
Spring break was coming up and nobody had plans yet. Kate was sick of the wretched, endless winter, and tired of the fishbowl life of Carlisle, where she felt constantly watched and spied on. Keniston always seemed to know what she was doing—how? Getting on a plane to anywhere sounded good right now, but getting on a plane to Jamaica would be paradise. One night, as she sat with her roommates and Griff Rothenberg over the unappetizing remains of tacos in the Commons, she idly mentioned her desire to visit her house. She wasn’t serious, but Griff glommed on to the idea instantly.
“I’m game. Let’s go,” Griff said.
“I was just daydreaming,” Kate said. “The house is closed now. The caretakers would have to open it.”
“So, that’s nothing, right? Taking off the dust covers and turning on the air-conditioning? Why does your dad pay them if not to be able to do that on a whim?”
“I don’t even know if the pool is filled.”
“Call and ask.”
“All right.”
Kate had her qualms. Griff was getting so possessive lately. She had no interest in a vacation where the two of them played house for a week and he became even more convinced that Kate was his girlfriend. She was obsessed with that gorgeous, moody townie boy Lucas, whom she’d barely seen since that night they had sex in his car near the icy river.
“No need to worry about a plane ticket,” Griff said. “My dad’s flying to the Caymans next week. We can hitch a ride on his plane.”
“The house is in Jamaica,” Kate said.
“Jamaica and the Caymans are right next door to each other, babe. I can ask him to add a stop for us,” Griff said, with a puppy-dog eagerness on his handsome face that Kate found cloying.
“Free vacation?” Aubrey said. “Can I come?”
“Why not, we can all go,” Kate said sourly, never imagining it would come to pass. She had no intention of following through.
A few days later, when Griff told her the private jet was a go, Kate reconsidered. She’d had a particularly gruesome couple of days—oversleeping after a night of partying and missing a midterm, realizing she’d used up her March allowance by the twelfth of the month—and the urge for escape was more powerful than ever. She imagined lounging by the pool with views of the ocean, rubbing lotion on Lucas’s back. Lucas’s perfect body in a bathing suit, with a tan, would cure her winter doldrums. She would lie out on the lounger with him at night, talking under the stars, or swim with him in the salty ocean, clinging together as the waves battered them. There was only one problem: Lucas seemed determined to avoid her. Since that time they ran into each other at Shecky’s, Kate had succeeded in spending only the occasional night with her townie, and always in her room. He never invited her to his. The next morning without fail he would slip from her grasp and disappear back into his own life so completely it was like an air lock sealed behind him. His detachment took Kate by surprise. After their first night together, she expected the sort of adulation other guys gave her, but Lucas was elusive. Nobody had ever been so indifferent to her before, and she was caught by it. She loved the head games, loved the chase, loved how he ignored her in the Commons and sat with his boys instead. She developed a sixth sense for his presence. She could recognize him from the corner of her eye from the far side of the Quad based on the color of his jacket or the tilt of his head. The thought of spending time with Lucas in Jamaica was intoxicating. Lucas, not Griff.
“I don’t think it’ll work,” she said. “I’m not on speaking terms with my father. He’d never approve.”
“From what you’ve told me, you’re the one who’s refusing to speak to him,” Griff said. “I bet if you asked, he’d say yes, as a gesture of reconciliation. What have you got to lose?”
“I’ll give it a shot,” Kate said, thinking that if Keniston did say yes, she would figure out some way to get Lucas to come along. But getting Griff not to? That part seemed like a long shot. He was like gum on her shoe.
Kate e-mailed Keniston, and as Griff had predicted, he wrote back right away. He would allow her to stay at the house in Jamaica provided that responsible people would accompany her. For example, her roommate, Jenny Vega, had impressed him at Thanksgiving as a girl with a good head on her shoulders. If Jenny accompanied Kate, he would approve the trip.
Keniston had solved Kate’s problem. She had an excuse to turn this into a group trip, with free airfare and a free place to stay. Who would say no to that? Not even Lucas, not once she told him that a lot of people were going. Enough people to make it nonthreatening to Lucas. Enough people so she could create a buffer between her and Griff, and have time to indulge her Lucas fixation.
She showed Griff the e-mail.
“I have to bring Jenny,” Kate said, laying the groundwork. “I can’t invite Jenny without inviting Aubrey, too. I’m sorry, but this means it won’t be just you and me.”
“No problem. The plane seats ten,” Griff said.
“I wouldn’t want my girls to feel like third wheels, so we’ll need to invite guys for them.”
“I can ask around at the frat to see who’s available.”
“Let me take care of the invitations,” Kate said.
A week later, six of them stepped from the air-conditioned sterility of the terminal in Montego Bay to the hot, humid chaos of the pavement—Kate, Aubrey, and Jenny; and Griff, Lucas, and some dweeb named Drew that Jenny picked up somewhere, whose chief assets were being male (ostensibly; Kate had her doubts) and being available to go on vacation with no notice. Vans and taxis and minibuses jockeyed for position at the curb. People accosted them, holding signs for hotels and cruise lines. Kate led the way to a taxi stand, where she asked around for a van big enough to carry them out to the countryside. Nobody wanted to take them to the Eastmans’ house, which was up in the middle of nowhere in the hills. Taxi drivers preferred going to the big hotels or the port where the cruise ships docked, so they could count on a fare back. Finally Kate agreed to a rip-off price for a ride in a dilapidated old station wagon with the word “taxi” hand-lettered on the side, driven by a guy with no front teeth.
“C’mon, we’ll sit in the way-back,” she said, taking Lucas’s hand. She wanted him badly enough to be brazen about singling him out. She would throw Griff together with Aubrey, who’d been crushing on him noticeably for months—so much so that Kate might have minded if she’d given a rip about Griff.
The way-back of the station wagon smelled like a dead animal.
“Hey, roll the windows down, it stinks back here,” Kate yelled, as the others piled into the car.
Soon they were speeding along a potholed highway heading east. The azure ocean sparkled beside them, breaking in delicate lacy waves on the white-sand beach. Wind roared through the car, drowning out any attempts at conversation. The first few bumps tossed Kate and Lucas around the rear compartment, rattling their bones and making them grunt at every impact. They hunched down together, using each other’s bodies to brace themselves against the floor. Kate turned toward Lucas with her lips parted, hungry for his kiss, and found his hand against her chest, holding her off.
“What?” she whisper-shouted into his ear.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Are you with me or with him, the frat guy?”
“You mean Griff?”
“Yeah, what gives?”
“Are you asking whose bed I’m sleeping in on this trip?”
“Uh, well…”
“Yours,” she said, her heart thrilling as she looked into his golden-brown eyes. She couldn’t remember being this excited about a guy—well, ever.
“Does he know that?” Lucas asked.
“He’ll figure it out.”
“No. I don’t put moves on another dude’s girl.”
“Look, Griff’s a big boy. And this isn’t high school. I don’t belong to anybody. I just do what feels right.”
He looked at her disapprovingly. “I think you mean, do what feels good.”
“Huh?”
He shook his head and sat upright, disengaging his limbs from hers. The sense of desolation she felt as he removed himself was so intense, and such a new sensation for her, that she almost enjoyed it.
They turned off the highway onto a smaller road. Goats foraged by the roadside. The hills in the distance were impossibly green. Coconut palms swayed in the front yards of half-finished concrete bungalows. The villages were collections of a few buildings at a crossroads. They drove through one, then another and another. Groups of men stood or sat in knots in front of tin-roofed shacks with wares displayed inside, the signs advertising fresh fish and bananas. The trees were heavy with strange fruit, and the air smelled like burning. Kate looked at Lucas, who gazed out the window with wide eyes. She wondered how often he’d been outside the state of New Hampshire, or even out of Belle River. Surely he would fall into her arms tonight. How could he not, in a place as lush as this? She would show him how sweet life could be.
Finally, they turned onto a steep gravel road and headed uphill. At the top of the rise, wrought-iron gates stood ajar. They drove through them into the cobbled courtyard of a large, graceful white house. A covered veranda faced a wide lawn that sloped down to the palm-fringed swimming pool, and beyond it, the sparkling sea. Hearing the sound of the vehicle, a middle-aged Jamaican couple came down off the veranda and waved. As her friends spilled stiffly out of the taxi after their uncomfortable ride, Kate introduced them to Ethelene and Samuel, the caretakers who ran the place. Samuel wanted to know where to put the luggage—which bags in which rooms? Kate told him not to worry about it for now—pile everything in the living room and they’d work it out later—because the first order of business was jumping in the pool.
“My only request is, keep the rum punches coming,” she said.
“Rum punches coming right up,” Samuel said.
Ethelene and Samuel had a son named Marlon, the same age as Kate, whom she’d known forever. He was tall and skinny, with a wide smile and connections that could get Kate whatever she wanted. Ethelene said her son was going into town and could stop by the grocery store, so they should place their orders. Kate wrote up a grocery list and whispered in Marlon’s ear about the special-delivery items she was looking for. He wanted her to front the cash. Groceries and alcohol could be charged to Keniston’s monthly bill at the store in town, but not the drugs. So Kate took up a discreet collection, and everybody contributed greenbacks except Jenny, who claimed she’d never once tried any illegal substance and wouldn’t break her perfect streak, not even for the extra-powerful Jamaican weed. Especially not for that: God knew what it would do to her virgin head.
“Kate, you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a bad idea,” Jenny said.
“We’re not in Turkey,” Kate replied. “Weed is like a sacrament here, you don’t get arrested for it. And if we do a little X, maybe, or the local equivalent, nobody will be the wiser.”
“I’m not only talking about getting arrested—although yeah. But how do you know what this stuff will do to your head?”
“Relax, babe, when it comes to pill-popping and A-bombing, I’m an old pro,” Kate said, and gave Jenny a big wet kiss on the cheek. “Loosen up. Drink something with an umbrella in it, go to bed with your makeup on. Live dangerously. At the very least, don’t queer my vibe.”
If Kate was to have any chance of claiming Lucas, everybody had to throw the rules by the wayside—everybody, including Jenny. Jenny brought along a boy of her own, and yet Kate caught her eyeing Lucas with that hungry look, the same one that shone out of Kate’s own eyes when she gazed at him. God, how could they still be caught up in a stupid conflict over a boy? They were above that. Kate thought that but she also thought Hands off my man, bitch.
There was talk of going down to the beach. By walking to the edge of the lawn, taking the dirt path out onto the cliffs, and leaning over, you could see it: a perfect crescent of white sand, despoiled by legions of tourists from the nearby cottage colony who pitched their umbrellas and left their garbage. To access the beach, Samuel would drive them back down the steep road they’d just come up, but nobody had the stomach for that after their spine-jolting journey. Instead, they spent the waning afternoon getting blind drunk on rum punches by the swimming pool. Kate cuddled with Griff on his lounge chair, but it was a ruse, a distraction. She planned to get him comfortable, then fob him off on Aubrey. The sun began descending on the horizon, and she decided to make her move, rising idly and diving into the kidney-shaped pool. She swam over to where Aubrey stood looking out at the view in a borrowed teensy bikini that belonged to Kate. The swimsuit revealed Aubrey’s figure in its glorious gauntness, each rib countable, hip bones protruding, long, spidery limbs—like a swinging London model from the sixties, or a concentration-camp survivor.
“Having fun?” Kate asked softly.
“Sure.” Aubrey’s voice rang hollow.
“Are you?”
“It’s paradise here.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Kate said, glancing over her shoulder, then leaning closer. “I know you’re still grieving your mom, hon. I brought you here to make you feel better. This trip is all about you. I have a special present for you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Griff. I know you like him, don’t deny it.”
“C’mon, Kate. Don’t tease me. Griff’s with you.”
“Not really. We’ve always been more friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. I care about him, and I want to see him with somebody who makes him happy. I think that person might be you.”
“Yeah, how does he feel about that?” Aubrey asked skeptically.
“Well, I know he likes you. He has his eye on you.”
“He doesn’t act like it.”
“He’s shy.”
“Really?” Aubrey asked, with the tilt of an eyebrow.
“Really. Go talk to him. He wants to get to know you better.”
“I don’t know, Kate.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a wimp, I guess. Afraid of rejection. I don’t have a clear shot with you in the picture.”
“But I’m giving him to you.”
“That takes care of the girl rules. I won’t feel bad on your account. But you can’t give a person like a present. He’s into you, still.”
“I promise you, he’s done with me. He wants someone steadier. He needs that. Seriously, I said, go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. Come on, now. No time like the present,” Kate said.
Aubrey hesitated.
“Go already,” Kate said, rolling her eyes, and poked Aubrey hard in the side.
Slowly, tentatively, Aubrey made her way over to the steps and emerged from the pool, water dripping from her long hair. It almost hurt to watch as Aubrey wrapped herself in a towel and walked bravely over to Griff’s lounge chair, sitting down gingerly on the edge. If only Kate could ease Griff out of her own life and into Aubrey’s, she’d be doing everybody a favor. Griff looked past Aubrey’s shoulder and tried to catch Kate’s eye. She dove under and swam a few laps, but when she came up for air, he was still watching her, barely paying attention to what Aubrey said. Meanwhile, Lucas lay in the last bit of sun with a towel over his eyes, indifferent to everything around him. He hadn’t spoken a word since they arrived at the house. Jenny and her friend Drew were wandering around taking photographs of the view.
After a while, Kate got out of the pool and went to lie on the lounge chair closest to Lucas. Samuel came out and lit the tiki torches. Their acrid, lighter-fluid smell reminded Kate of summers of her childhood. Ethelene called them to the veranda, where a feast of jerk chicken with rice and beans had been laid out on the long mahogany table. Citronella candles flickered up and down its length, giving off their sweet scent. They ate in their wet bathing suits and bare feet, drinking chilled sauvignon blanc and talking about how crazy school was. They all loved and loathed Carlisle. At some point during dinner, Marlon came by and put a brown paper bag in Kate’s hand conspiratorially.
“Pipe’s in there,” he whispered. “Papers, too, take your choice. And those special extra treats you asked for. Be careful with those, they mess with your head.”
“I can handle it.”
“All right, all right. Just wait till the old folks gone inside so we don’t have no fuss.”
“Will do. Thanks, my friend,” Kate said, and kissed his cheek.
After laying waste to the food, they were ready to go back to the pool. A glorious sunset spread out to the west, the sky glowing in brilliant hues of orange, red, and violet. The mosquitoes were coming out, even though they were way up in the hills. They wrapped fluffy, striped towels close around them and huddled together on the chairs in the cooling air.
“Beautiful night, but I can think of a way to make it better,” Kate said, and pulled out the paper bag Marlon had given her.
“It’s getting chilly,” Jenny said, standing up. “I think I’ll go inside. Anybody want to come?”
Kate gave her a withering look but didn’t try to stop her. Then Lucas stood up.
“I’m beat,” he said.
“No,” Kate said. “Sit down.”
“But—”
“Jenny can leave. Not you.”
Everybody stared at Kate, and she stared right back. Her blue eyes, rimmed with purple liner smudged from the water, were defiant and wild.
Jenny shrugged. “Be careful,” she said, to no one in particular, and walked off toward the house.
Lucas remained standing. He glowered at Kate, saying nothing. His whole moody routine was getting less cute by the minute. Kate filled the bowl of the pipe, lit it, and took a deep drag. As the THC hit her bloodstream, she could tell that this was some powerful shit, different from anything she’d smoked before. It would loose chaos upon their group, but she was ready for that.
“Here,” she said, and held out the pipe to Lucas.