Jesse's Girl
Page 80
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Sam throws a peanut at her. “Can we stop talking about how sexy Jesse is already?”
“Seconded,” Dad replies.
After dinner, it’s time for Jesse’s party. It starts right as the clock strikes midnight, just in time for his birthday. Fancy cars and limos are already parked in Jesse’s circular drive when Dave, Xander, and I arrive.
I ring the doorbell, and a few moments later, even though it’s about forty-five degrees outside, Jesse answers the door wearing only a towel and his beige cowboy hat. He has a mixed drink in one hand and his phone in the other; he’s talking to someone. Casper darts out the front door. I barely catch her before she disappears into the night.
“Thanks for calling… Bye.” He hangs up.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“My mom. She and my dad can’t make it tonight. They have to get up early tomorrow.”
“How boring.”
“Damn straight,” Jesse says with a smile and gives me a kiss, then slurps the pink drink through a straw. “Y’all are just in time for the piñata.”
“Oh good God,” I say, following him through the house. I peek in the living room to see how he’s doing on his decorating. He’s up to a whopping five framed pictures now: a print of him, Mark, and Holly backstage at the Grammys; a picture of Dr. Salter and Jesse at a concert; the picture of him and me on top of the Empire State Building; a photo of him challenging Dave to a game of pickup basketball (I took that picture); and my favorite—a photo that a fan sent of me and him singing together on the Belle Carol.
We step onto the patio, where I set Casper down so she can chase bugs. The cat dashes past the executives Jesse invited from Rêve Records, Mr. Logan, and Charles, his lawyer. Holly and her husband are huddled on a lounge chair, shivering next to a large heater.
Dave and Xander strip down to their bathing suits and jump in the guitar-shaped pool, yelling about how cold it is outside.
“You actually got a piñata,” I say, staring up at the giant heart hanging from the deck’s awning. His birthday is on Valentine’s Day, so he’s got this whole pink-and-red tropical motif going. I like the white, pink, and red lights he strung in the trees, but the ugly inflatable pink palm trees look like they came from an alien planet.
“I am in charge of decorations for all future parties,” I say. “This is heinous.”
“Not heinous, hilarious. Just wait until you see what’s inside the piñata,” Jesse replies. “Can I get you a drink?”
I nod at a glass bobbing by on a waiter’s tray. “I’ll take one of those pink things, thanks.”
Jesse leads me to this tiki bar he rented and asks the bartender for a strawberry piña colada daiquiri.
“Fancy,” I say. “No alcohol though, right? I wouldn’t want you falling in the pool.”
“Smart-ass.” He looks at the bag dangling from my wrist. “Did you get me a present?”
“Happy Birthday.” I pass him the gift bag. It’s nothing compared to the gift he gave me for my birthday in January: he rented a silver Lamborghini for a night, and I drove it all over Nashville and Franklin. The best part was when I pulled up at Sonic in front of kids from school, then proceeded to order a cherry limeade.
Jesse sets his drink on a table, opens the bag, and holds up the CD I burned. “Aw, did you make me a mix tape?” He reads the playlist on the back. “Queen, James Taylor, Queen, James Taylor, Queen, Jesse Scott? You put one of my songs on a mix tape for me?” He laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Do you love it?” I flirt.
“I do.”
I stand on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’ll give you the rest of your present later.”
His eyebrows shoot straight up to the sky.
“Wanna go swimming?” I ask.
“Sure.” He starts to drop his towel.
“You’ve got something on under there, right?”
“You know me. Go big or go home.” He yanks off the towel. He’s wearing red swimming trunks.
“You ass.”
We take our drinks in the heated pool. Steam rises off the water, wafting into the starry night. Jesse and Dave play a game of basketball in the shallow end while Xander and I sit on the steps and make fun of them for being so bad at sports.
Then Dr. Salter arrives, and Mr. Logan wanders over. My principal says to Jesse, “I’m glad to see everyone disregarded the skinny-dipping instructions on your invitation.”
“And why did you send said invitation to the president of Rêve?” Mr. Logan asks. At least he’s smiling.
“Seconded,” Dad replies.
After dinner, it’s time for Jesse’s party. It starts right as the clock strikes midnight, just in time for his birthday. Fancy cars and limos are already parked in Jesse’s circular drive when Dave, Xander, and I arrive.
I ring the doorbell, and a few moments later, even though it’s about forty-five degrees outside, Jesse answers the door wearing only a towel and his beige cowboy hat. He has a mixed drink in one hand and his phone in the other; he’s talking to someone. Casper darts out the front door. I barely catch her before she disappears into the night.
“Thanks for calling… Bye.” He hangs up.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“My mom. She and my dad can’t make it tonight. They have to get up early tomorrow.”
“How boring.”
“Damn straight,” Jesse says with a smile and gives me a kiss, then slurps the pink drink through a straw. “Y’all are just in time for the piñata.”
“Oh good God,” I say, following him through the house. I peek in the living room to see how he’s doing on his decorating. He’s up to a whopping five framed pictures now: a print of him, Mark, and Holly backstage at the Grammys; a picture of Dr. Salter and Jesse at a concert; the picture of him and me on top of the Empire State Building; a photo of him challenging Dave to a game of pickup basketball (I took that picture); and my favorite—a photo that a fan sent of me and him singing together on the Belle Carol.
We step onto the patio, where I set Casper down so she can chase bugs. The cat dashes past the executives Jesse invited from Rêve Records, Mr. Logan, and Charles, his lawyer. Holly and her husband are huddled on a lounge chair, shivering next to a large heater.
Dave and Xander strip down to their bathing suits and jump in the guitar-shaped pool, yelling about how cold it is outside.
“You actually got a piñata,” I say, staring up at the giant heart hanging from the deck’s awning. His birthday is on Valentine’s Day, so he’s got this whole pink-and-red tropical motif going. I like the white, pink, and red lights he strung in the trees, but the ugly inflatable pink palm trees look like they came from an alien planet.
“I am in charge of decorations for all future parties,” I say. “This is heinous.”
“Not heinous, hilarious. Just wait until you see what’s inside the piñata,” Jesse replies. “Can I get you a drink?”
I nod at a glass bobbing by on a waiter’s tray. “I’ll take one of those pink things, thanks.”
Jesse leads me to this tiki bar he rented and asks the bartender for a strawberry piña colada daiquiri.
“Fancy,” I say. “No alcohol though, right? I wouldn’t want you falling in the pool.”
“Smart-ass.” He looks at the bag dangling from my wrist. “Did you get me a present?”
“Happy Birthday.” I pass him the gift bag. It’s nothing compared to the gift he gave me for my birthday in January: he rented a silver Lamborghini for a night, and I drove it all over Nashville and Franklin. The best part was when I pulled up at Sonic in front of kids from school, then proceeded to order a cherry limeade.
Jesse sets his drink on a table, opens the bag, and holds up the CD I burned. “Aw, did you make me a mix tape?” He reads the playlist on the back. “Queen, James Taylor, Queen, James Taylor, Queen, Jesse Scott? You put one of my songs on a mix tape for me?” He laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Do you love it?” I flirt.
“I do.”
I stand on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’ll give you the rest of your present later.”
His eyebrows shoot straight up to the sky.
“Wanna go swimming?” I ask.
“Sure.” He starts to drop his towel.
“You’ve got something on under there, right?”
“You know me. Go big or go home.” He yanks off the towel. He’s wearing red swimming trunks.
“You ass.”
We take our drinks in the heated pool. Steam rises off the water, wafting into the starry night. Jesse and Dave play a game of basketball in the shallow end while Xander and I sit on the steps and make fun of them for being so bad at sports.
Then Dr. Salter arrives, and Mr. Logan wanders over. My principal says to Jesse, “I’m glad to see everyone disregarded the skinny-dipping instructions on your invitation.”
“And why did you send said invitation to the president of Rêve?” Mr. Logan asks. At least he’s smiling.
