Free Dangerous When Wet: A Memoir by Jamie Brickhouse Page B

as I turned my gaze from Limey and Racing Stripes to see Dad standing ten feet away from them with popped eyes and raised eyebrows. The adrenaline in my body was still pumping, but it sank from palpitations in my heart to a lump in my stomach. I robotically walked out of the ocean toward Dad, ignoring my new friends from Kansas. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them drift away.
    Dad held my gaze as I walked toward him. I couldn’t read his furrowed brow as either a look of shock or worry. Probably both.
    “Hi, Dad,” I said as I reached him.
    “What were you doing?”
    “Just walking on the beach.”
    “Who were those guys?”
    “I don’t know. Just some guys. They asked if they could take my picture.”
    He stared at me, his face frozen in his brows-raised, eyes-popped look, but he didn’t inquire further. “Well, you need to be more careful. Come on.” He walked ahead of me and away from where Limey and Racing Stripes had been standing. I followed and we walked along the beach side by side for thirty minutes in silence. I didn’t know what to say. I guess he didn’t either.
    *   *   *
    At sunset that evening I found myself draining a frozen margarita back at the deck of the adult pool. Mama Jean was holding out her left wrist to model the collection of silver bangles she had bought that afternoon. Dad, Jeffrey, and I oohed and aahed on cue.
    “I could shoot myself for not getting the necklace that goes with these. I’m just sick about it.”
    “Well, honey, you’ve already got plenty of silver,” Dad said.
    “But not like this. I’m going to have to go back to that store downtown before we leave.”
    “How about another margarita, Mom?” Jeffrey asked.
    “Yeah. We’ll get it,” I said, taking the opportunity to sneak in one more.
    “I don’t know. Y’all might have to carry me upstairs if I have another,” she said with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth.
    “Oh, have a second one, honey,” Dad said with a head point toward the bar as he tilted his empty glass at Jeffrey and me. Jeffrey and I scurried off before she could change her mind.
    We stood leaning on the circular bar as Jeffrey, to my right, ordered a round of drinks. Out of the corner of my left eye I saw a lightly freckled arm resting on the bar. Limey. I caught his eyes and smiled at him and glanced toward Jeffrey to halt him from speaking.
    I turned away from Limey and said to Jeffrey, “Make sure mine is salted.”
    “Right.” Jeffrey then called the bartender over to clarify the order.
    Limey pushed a drink receipt toward me. I saw that he had scribbled “Room 910” on the back of it. He whispered in my ear, “Here’s our room number. Call us. We’ll be in our room for the next hour.” His hot breath in my ear nearly melted me. I leaned harder on the bar as my left leg shot up behind me, bent at the knee. I turned to Jeffrey just as Limey was pulling away from my ear.
    “Thanks!” I said to Jeffrey overenthusiastically. We gathered our drinks and joined Mama Jean and Dad poolside.
    Midway through our drinks, I asked Jeffrey for our room key with the excuse that I needed to go to the bathroom. I took the key from Jeffrey and fought the urge to run to the elevator as I caressed the piece of paper with “910” scrawled on it. Jeffrey and I were in 1010, so they were directly below us. I saw this as a good omen. I rang them from 1010.
    Vernon answered, “Hello.” His voice went up in anticipation on the lo .
    He said that he and Kelly were going to a big company dinner that night and then out to the bars downtown. The bars!
    “Oh, I wish I could go,” I said, twirling the phone cord, “but I have dinner plans.”
    “Maybe you could come to our room later? We should be back from the bars by midnight.” Each time he said “the bars” I tingled. “Want to stop by then?”
    “Sure. Sounds good,” I said with bravado, wondering if I could make it