Silver Tides (Silver Tides Series) (7 page)

Tammy was full of surprises; I was starting to really like her.

Tammy reluctantly left us at Target to find Miranda, while John and I picked out some clothes for him to try on. I stood in the men’s change room outside the flimsy curtain that doubled as a door, waiting for John to show me his ensemble.

We heard Miranda before we saw her. “You’re sure they were shopping here?” she asked, disgust tempering her sentence.

“Yes...” Tammy agreed.

“Get in here,” John said, pulling me into the change room and whisking the curtain closed behind me. The cubicle had a large mirror and John’s borrowed clothes lay in a heap on the bench. The area was surprisingly large. I gently leaned against a wall with three hooks above me that stated, “Yes,” “Maybe,” “Next time.”

I examined John’s jeans and surf t-shirt and gave him a silent thumbs-up as Miranda called into the change room. “John? John Smith, are you in here?”

John pressed his finger to his lips, begging me to be silent. I shook my head with an exasperated smile, while obeying his request.

“John?” Miranda called, stopping outside our cubicle. “I can see your sneakers.”

“I’m naked.” He smiled.

“I don’t think so,” Miranda said, sounding less impressed with each sentence. “I can see Mya’s cheap bargain basement shoes too.”

“We’re having sex,” he replied.

My slap bounced off his rock-hard chest, hurting me more than him. He feigned offense, and I giggled.

“I doubt it,” Miranda disagreed. “She’s on the other side of the cubicle.”

“I just have a really big...” John began, as I whipped the curtain open.

“Capacity for joking,” I finished.

Miranda smiled as she came face-to-face with her prey.

“Hey, Miranda, Tammy, Tamara, Julia,” I greeted, sweetly.

“So there’s a party tomorrow night,” Miranda told John, ignoring me. “It’s at my place. I’m having a bachelorette party. I dumped Dylan’s sorry butt.”

“I thought he...” Tammy began before Miranda elbowed her silent.

“I’d love you to be there,” she purred, leaning into John’s broad chest.

“Do you want to go?” he asked me, ignoring Miranda.

I shrugged, about to decline, when Miranda fixed me with a look that left no room for retreat.

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Really?” he fished for a no. “Didn’t we have that thing ..”

“The thing?” Tammy asked.

Miranda glared at me.

“That’s next week.” I shook my head.

“Fine,” John sighed, moving Miranda firmly out of the cubicle, “we’ll be there. Now let us finish.” John pulled the curtain closed without a farewell.

“Do we have to go?” he asked loudly, as Miranda and her posse giggled out of the change rooms.

“We can put in an appearance.” I laughed at his childish pout.

“Why are you nice to her?” he asked. “She would step over your injured body to get to me.”

“I feel sorry for her.” I shrugged. I grabbed John’s rumpled shirt off the bench and folded it.

“What? You feel sorry for all the money, the fancy clothes, the mansion...” he asked.

I laughed. “No, I just think it’s sad that these are the best days she has. She’ll wake up in twenty years and be a mean desperate housewife and be confused how she got there.”

John laughed. “You think way too much...”

“I love the outfit,” I said, changing the subject.

“I’ll wear it tonight to dinner with your parents.” He smiled.

“You’re supposed to wash the clothes before you wear them,” I informed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I like to live on the edge,” he said, squinting his eyes and sounding like James Bond.

“Come on Evel Knievel, let’s pay,” I laughed. “You’re about to have dinner with my parents; that should be extreme enough.”

Fish heads

“John, my friend!” Dad greeted, excited.

The lights were on throughout the house as we walked through the living room into the dining room. The table was still unset, but the warmth of cooking was emanating from the kitchen. The smell was pungent causing me to feel nauseated.

“You’re happy,” I observed, pleased to see Dad smiling again.

“I got a second interview today.” He smiled. “So I made a victory dinner.”

We all left unspoken the thought that he still might not get the job.

I sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” I asked, swallowing the bile rising into my throat.

“Fish soup.” Mum shook her head. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

“Ukha … It’s a Russian delicacy.” Dad beamed.

“Please tell me you made it without the heads?” I pleaded, my hands in prayer pose.

“The head is the tastiest part,” Dad enthused.

“Fish head soup.” John smiled with anticipation. “Sounds delicious.”

“You’re a mad man,” I said, playfully pushing him.

“You love it,” he replied, bumping his hip against mine in response.

John and I set the table informally and sat down opposite my parents. Mum made everyone tell her the best part of our day, before she said grace. She was a big stickler for praying before meals; John was fortuitously unfazed by my weird family. The soup wasn’t as bad as it smelled, though the vacant eyes of the fish staring up from the pot almost made me hurl.

“Miranda invited us to a party tomorrow night,” I told my parents, gingerly sipping the hot soup. “Can I go?”

“Say no,” John encouraged, playfully.

“Why?” Mum asked, concerned. “Will they be doing drugs?”

“No doubt,” John replied, matching her concern. “We should really stay home and avoid the whole thing.”

“It’ll be a chance for you to both practice saying no.” Mum smiled, messing with John’s head. “Have fun.”

“What drugs?” Dad asked, missing the joke.

“If you don’t want to go, don’t!” Mum answered, rolling her eyes as though it was obvious, taking another tentative mouthful of soup. She hated Ukha; with each spoonful she would curl up her lips so that they wouldn’t touch the soup. I followed her example, till I’d consumed enough to save Dad’s feelings.

“Jaimie’s been trying to convince me to go all week.” I sighed. “And Miranda was keen for John to attend today.”

“I don’t like that girl,” Dad mumbled. “She has no hips; how will she have babies?”

Mum, John, and I laughed.

“It’s just one of those unsolved mysteries in the universe,” I joked.

“So, John, you like the fish head?” Dad asked, proud as a peacock. “You need to suck out the eyes like this,” he demonstrated.

I shuddered. I was not a big fan of fish, but their heads were the most repulsive part.

“Mmmmmm,” John replied, mimicking Dad, “delicious!”

“There’s a pupil on your tooth,” I pointed out, almost dry-retching.

“Give me a kiss,” John joked, puckering up.

“Ewwwwwww.” I pulled away, grossed out.

Dad laughed with reckless abandon. “Ha, ha, ha, give me a kiss...”

“Hilarious.” I rolled my eyes.

John and I did the dishes to give my parents some time to themselves. As we dried the dishes, a tea towel war broke out. We left red zebra stripes up and down each other’s legs. It was an enjoyable night despite the odd menu.

After John left, Dad commented, “If you like John, he is good enough for you.”

“So, you don’t think he’s right for Nadia?” I teased.

“What you talk?” Dad asked, obviously lying.

I laughed. Dad rarely admitted he was wrong; instead he feigned amnesia.

The fish head soup was a right of passage that had initiated John into our family. But with all the female attention John was receiving I didn’t know how long he’d be ours. Especially with the scheming that Miranda was orchestrating for the impending party.

Party primping

I regretted agreeing to attend the party the minute I opened my closet. I had piles of clothes but absolutely nothing to wear, the same kind of tragedy as having hundreds of channels on TV but nothing worth watching. In my moment of meltdown I did the only thing I knew how to do—I called Jaimie.

“I’m having a fashion freak-out,” I told Jaimie over the phone.

“Come over,” Tammy yelled in the background.

“You heard her.” Jaimie laughed. “Ask your parents to sleep over at Tammy’s house tonight, and we’ll go to the party together.”

“Is this going to be like another teen makeover?” I asked skeptically.

“Absolutely.” Jaimie laughed, before hanging up.

Mum dropped me off at Tammy’s beachside mansion a couple of hours later. Tammy was poured into daisy duke shorts and a top that make her breasts look like mountainous peaks. Her strawberry blonde-colored hair was pulled into two Princess Leia buns, and her hazel eyes danced with mischief. “You made it,” she buzzed, hugging me.

“Hey, girl,” Jaimie greeted, bumping my hip with hers. She was wearing tracksuit pants and a fitted tee. Her tiny frame looked gorgeous in it. Jaimie’s blond hair was tied in a high ponytail, and her blue eyes were rimmed with way too much eyeliner, like they’d been practicing makeup for the party.

“You’re looking smoky-eyed,” I commented, feeling the waters for the correct observation.

“Sexy or raccoon?” she asked seriously. “It’s a fine line; what do you think?”

“With the right outfit, sexy,” I declared.

“Yay!” Tammy giggled, clapping.

“Now it’s your turn,” Jaimie announced, dragging me up the wide staircase. Tammy’s bathroom was as big as half our house. I’d never noticed at the previous parties because of the wall-to-wall girls doing their makeup.

I sat down in the chair as Jaimie and Tammy set to work straightening my hair so they could curl it into elegant frizz-free curls. They played with my makeup like children transforming a doll. I remembered the times Jaimie had scribbled makeup on her Barbie with permanent marker and cut her hair into a punk rocker’s dream; I was sincerely hoping they didn’t do the same to me.

“What do you think?” Tammy asked, excited.

“You’ve outdone yourselves.” I smiled, turning my face from left to right to examine the earth-tone eyes and model’s cheeks that made my face look like a foundation commercial in a magazine.

“Now my surprise,” Tammy squealed, running out of the room and returning with a black dress on a hanger.

“It’s a vintage Sass and Bide.” She smiled.

“Vintage as in we found it in St Vinnie’s.” Jaimie smiled. “Five bucks.”

“Bargain!” we sang, giving each other a high fives.

“So put it on,” Tammy encouraged.

I carefully pulled the dress over my hair and makeup, adjusting the skirt over my hips. It looked like it had been sewn for my body.

"You're so hot I almost squeed," Tammy announced seriously.

"Thanks," I replied, weirded out by the compliment, but grateful for the sentiment.

"So, do you think you and John will do it tonight?" Tammy asked.

"Do what?" I asked, absently twirling so the skirt would swish.

"Get together," Tammy replied, exasperated.

"We're just friends." I looked up, surprised.

"I told you," Jaimie clucked. "She wouldn’t believe me."

"We're just friends," I assured Tammy again.

"I just assumed." Tammy sighed. "Kinda hoped too."

"That's nice." I smiled.

"I just don't want Miranda to get her claws into him," Tammy said in uncharacteristic disloyalty.

"I guess that's his choice." I shrugged, a tremor of pain piercing my chest.

"I think he's totally into you," she declared, confidently.

"Me too," Jaimie agreed.

"Whatever." I shook my head laughing. "Get dressed or we'll be late."

I tried not to think about John falling in love with someone else; it was too painful. Even with my party makeover I wasn't on John’s level. He was a devastating 10 out of 10, while I was merely a rumble of a 4 on the Richter scale. I treasured our time together because I knew that all too soon it would come to an end.