“Well, that’s all I care about.”
As we’re walking up the boardwalk toward a sign that reads “Mick’s” I feel overdressed. In my sleek leather jacket and ankle boots, both black, I’m so very New York. Everyone’s milling around in bikinis, tank tops, board shorts, and flip-flops. Once we’re seated at a window booth with an ocean view, I slip the jacket off. I sense more than see Grip’s eyes linger on my arms and shoulders bared by the sleeveless shirt under my jacket. I force myself to keep my arms at my side and not cross them over my chest. I block his line of vision with the huge menu and feel as if I can breathe a little easier with it between the heat of his eyes and my skin.
“So what’s good?” I ask.
“I get the same thing every time. Burger and fries.”
I scrunch my nose, not seeing anything I want, but half-starved enough to settle. Before I can say as much, a set of perky breasts in a green bikini appear beside our table. My eyes do the slow crawl from the girl’s hot pink toenails in her wedge heels, over the skimpy cut-off denim shorts and the bikini top, which barely bridles her breasts. Bright blue eyes and blonde hair complete the California package. If all the girls look like this, and a quick glance around Mick’s dining room tells me a lot of them do, I may reconsider my secret plan to move here when I graduate.
“Hey, dude.” Perky tits leans over to drop a quick kiss on Grip’s jaw.
“Jim, what’s good, girl?” He slaps her ass, aiming a playful smile up at her. “Been missing you.”
Rewind. Jimmy’s a girl? Her name tag reads “Jimmi.” The “i” would be cuter if I wasn’t so hungry.
“I know.” Jimmi blows at the blonde bangs brushing her eyebrows. “Between shifts here and gigging all over town, there’s been no time to hang.”
“Yeah, Rhys and I were just saying the same thing,” Grip says. “We need to get everybody together.”
“My uncle’s beach house!” The blue eyes light up. “He’s out of the country and said I could crash there some.”
“We need to do that for real.”
“We could play Scrabble again,” she says. “Remember how much fun we had?”
“You sure you want to play Scrabble?” Grip lifts a skeptical brow. “Why wouldn’t I?” She looks confused, or maybe that’s always her
look. She’s very blonde, even if it may be from a bottle, so I can’t tell. “You’re not really good at it,” he says with a grin.
“Why would you say that?” Jimmi’s hands go to her hips.
“’Cause you thought ‘guffaw’ was a character from Lord of the Rings.”
“Ugh,” Jimmi half-groans, half-laughs. “You weren’t supposed to tell anybody that.”
Oh, my God, guffaw.
Laughter bubbles up in my throat. I try to push it down, but it’s no use. It springs from my mouth as a, well . . . guffaw. Jimmi looks a little embarrassed but manages a self-deprecating smile. Grip’s laugh matches mine.
“Jim, this is Rhyson’s twin sister, Bristol. Bristol, this is Jimmi. She went to high school with Rhys and me.”
“Great.” Jimmi gives me a wry look. “Now, she’ll think I’m an airhead.”
I don’t deny it and just smile and hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Jimmi,” I say. “I promise not to tell.”
“Well, thanks for that.” Jimmi squints an eye and tilts her head, considering me. “Did he say twin sister? I knew Rhyson had a sister, but I had no idea you guys were twins. I see the resemblance.”
I’m surprised she’s even heard that much about me.
“I live in New York.” I attempt a natural smile. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
Jimmi’s smile shrinks, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“Oh, yeah.” She nods, avoiding my eyes. “He doesn’t get back to New York much, does he?”
“No, not much.” I agree quietly since it’s obvious she, like everyone else, knows how splintered our family is.
“So where is the maestro?” Jimmi directs the question to Grip. “Last minute remastering with that project he was working on,” Grip says.