Arno paced back and forth in Miami International Airport, waiting for Kelli. He was wearing white pajama pants, a torn black T-shirt, and no shoes, which he’d argued about with airport security twice already. But he wanted to look totally cool for Kelli, because now, for reasons he didn’t quite get, he was vying for her against Randall Oddy. Arno didn’t particularly like a challenge, but he definitely had one.
“What’s up, lover?” Kelli came up behind him and grabbed his stomach and kissed him on the cheek. He thought she smelled like fabric softener and daisies and airline daiquiris.
“Hi,” he whispered. He knew he sounded shy and wondered what was going on. Normally, if he was going to meet a girl, he liked to show up with another girl, or two other girls, so they’d be jealous of each other and subsequently make out with him quicker. But he kept forgetting about other girls when he was thinking about Kelli.
Then he noticed that Randall Oddy was with her. Arno rubbed his eyes, but Randall didn’t go away.
“Hey, kid,” Randall said. “I missed my plane so when I saw Kelli I jumped on her.”
They laughed and bumped up against each other.
“My—” But Arno managed to catch himself before he said dad and added isn’t going to give you another show if you try to get with my girl.
“Your?”
“Car is downstairs,” Arno said. He’d borrowed an extremely cool 1974 white Cadillac convertible from the manager of his dad’s gallery, and he had it downstairs. He could barely drive it, being from the city and all, but he’d figured on Kelli driving, which would’ve been really cute. But now he’d have to, as he was damned if Randall Oddy was going to sit anywhere but in the backseat.
“Your dad ready to rock tonight?” Randall asked. He threw his arm around Arno, who glared at him. Randall was wearing an Annihilate the Rich T-shirt, Prada flipflops, and paint-splattered jeans. Arno restrained a strong inclination to point at Randall, scream terrorist, and run away with Kelli.
Outside it was painfully bright and blistering hot. There were palm trees everywhere and the sultry weather slowed them down as they walked to the car.
“I really like it here,” Kelli said.
“I thought you would,” Arno and Randall said at the same time.
During the drive, everybody sang along to the awful top 40 hit radio station, which played a lot of Latin stuff that Kelli knew better than both of them. She could really belt out a song. And so there she sat, cross-legged in the passenger seat, while Randall lounged in the back and Arno drove white-knuckled through the late-afternoon Miami traffic. They made a pretty cool-looking threesome, not that it meant much to Arno.
“La la la la la, O mi corazon!” Kelli sang out. A couple of guys in a red BMW drove up close and sang along with her.
Arno made eye contact with Randall in the rearview mirror. They glared at each other. Meanwhile, Kelli accepted a party invitation from the BMW guys.
They arrived at Arno’s parents’ house, a Spanish-style stucco four-story mansion right on Ocean Drive, parked, and walked around the house to the backyard, where there was a pool with fadeaway edges.
“I’ve got to get into that pool,” Kelli said. She dropped her bags and stared.
“Me, too,” Randall said.
“Guests are coming for cocktails at six,” Arno said.
“They can get in, too,” Randall said. He pulled off his T-shirt and jeans. Arno stared at him. Was he going to jump in naked? Arno puffed up his chest. He started to take off his clothes, too.
“Waitasecond, boys. I need my bikini,” Kelli said. “There’s no way I’m going skinny-dipping in the daytime.”
“Aww,” Randall said. He stuck out his tongue, yanked down his boxers, and jumped in the pool. Arno and Kelli stared at him. Arno could hear his parents coming through the glass doors.
Arno said, “What a hoser.”
“Mmm,” Kelli said. Arno had the sickening feeling that Kelli liked what she was seeing.
“Come on in! The water’s excellent.”
“Not till later,” Kelli said. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Wildenburger! What a wonderful house you have.”
And then, while Randall Oddy treaded water, fast, because the water was awfully clear, Arno’s parents talked with Kelli. His parents seemed willing to ignore the fact that their son was in his boxers and there was a naked artist in their pool.
“Rrrr,” Arno said, and put his pants back on.