Silver is for Secrets Read Free Page A

here?” Clara peeps at us over Amber‟s shoulder.
    “Who?” Amber looks thoroughly annoyed now. She makes a big sigh and looks downward to assess the chip-page to her pedicure—pink and yellow checkerboards on one foot, yellow and white swirls on the other.
    “Marcy and Greg,” Clara repeats. “They stayed in this cottage last summer.”
    “Negative,” Amber says, taking another tug at her wedge.
    “Oh, wel , sorry to bother you,” Clara says. “I just noticed that people had moved in and thought that maybe you were them.”
    “Not so fast, my little Avon lady.” PJ steps in front of Amber, bumping her out of the way. He unfolds a napkin and throws it down over the threshold, red-carpet-like, to invite Clara in. “You couldn‟t possibly leave without experiencing my delectables.”
    “It‟s not that kind of door-to-door,” Amber says.
    “Don‟t mind her,” PJ says, extending a runny, half-cooked egg sandwich out to Clara. “She‟s al thorns and bristles. But do indulge yourself in a bite of my delights.
    I hope you like tartar sauce.”
    “The only delight you have to offer is a trip down to Beach Blanket Bagel to get us some real breakfast,” Amber says.
    “Bristle bristle, spike spike.” He hisses at Amber.
    “Hi,” I say, in an effort to save the girl from being preyed on by PJ. I introduce everyone, and Clara waves a hello.
    “Where are you from?” Drea asks. She fumbles her way off Chad and his newspaper to come and greet her.
    “Hartford,” Clara says. “But my parents are both from here originally, so we rent a place up here every summer. I‟ve already been here a week.”
    “Great,” Chad says, doing that I-should-be-an-Abercrombie-&-Fitch-model thing with his hair. He threads his fingers through his sandy-brown locks, one strand conveniently landing just to the right of his eye—completely rehearsed. “So you‟l be able to fil us in on al the good spots.”
    Drea pauses a moment to eye the inch of hula-girl tummy peeping out between Clara‟s T-shirt and sarong. She peeks back at Chad, totally catching him in a gawk.
    “Definitely,” Clara says, propping her sunglasses up on her head like a makeshift headband. “You guys wil love vacationing here. Great clubs, cool stores. There‟s this amazing soda place downtown where they make the best ice-cream floats and frappes and stuff.”
    “Sounds fattening,” Drea says, now scanning the slice of thigh peeping out from Clara‟s sarong.
    “I guess it is,” Clara says with a giggle. She pauses to adjust the ties on her sarong—to cover her leg maybe. “But lucky for me, I don‟t have to worry about that.” She glances a moment at Drea‟s caboose.
    “Is there a problem?” Drea asks, obviously noticing the butt check.
    “Huh?” Clara cocks her head, feigning innocence.
    “Don‟t mind her,” Chad interrupts. “It sounds like a great place.”
    “Wel , we‟l have to go,” Clara says, with more giggles.
    Drea clears her throat. She rests her head on Chad‟s shoulder and bats her eyes at him. “Let‟s go for a walk.”
    “Okay,” he says, not moving.
    “Now,” she says, pouting her strawberry lips at him. “I feel like some beachy air.” Chad obeys, and they leave.
    “I think I need some air, too,” Amber says. “That and a couple of frat boys to keep me busy. I wonder if they‟re hungry.” She grabs a plateful of Nutel asmothered toast slices.
    “They‟d have to be starving,” PJ says, taking a bite of his egg sandwich.
    “What‟s that supposed to mean?”
    “You figure it out.” PJ col ects a couple more sandwiches from the table and goes off into his room.
    “He‟s just bitter that I won‟t go out with him again.” Amber stuffs a couple tissues into her bikini top, right between her boobs, inside the cleavage. “It gets sweaty down there,” she explains. She flashes us a peace-sign goodbye and heads out.
    “Wow,” Clara says, “I guess I real y know how to clear a room.”
    “Not at