Skinny Dipping Season Read Free Page A

fired an employee just for smoking on the sidewalk outside his office building. He didn’t even know the employee’s name.
    I turned the wine bottle around and examined the price sticker. $3.99 . It would have horrified Colin. He boasted that he could taste the difference between a grand cru and a premier cru without even looking at the label.
    What had he said to me the night of my arrest? “I don’t want to be tainted by your actions.”
    â€œScrew Colin!” I said out loud. Ha! Well, evidently my little sister already had. Not for the first time, I wondered if she had enjoyed it any more than I had. But that was a worry for another day.
    I wasn’t the kind of girl who swore.
    Or the kind of girl who smoked and drank.
    In fact, my life could be taken straight from the pages of Emily Post. I knew which fork to use for shellfish, how to address heads of state, and often wrote thank-you notes for thank-you notes. I straightened my unruly hair each morning, applied only the most subtle pink lip gloss, and my idea of casual was a pair of perfectly creased dark jeans.
    But that was going to change. Tonight called for a massive gesture.
    Feeling brave and impulsive, I reached for my pen and added one more unofficial thing to the to-do list at the back of my journal.
    Take a big risk . I didn’t know what that would be, but I was looking forward to finding out.
    I pushed the journal away and unscrewed the bottle cap. What was the routine my father and Colin always went through when they opened a bottle of fine wine at dinner parties? Swirl. Sniff. And sip.
    I turned the bottle in a circular motion, ignoring the amber fluid that spilled over the top.
    Then I held it to my nose and took a whiff. It smelled like hand sanitizer.
    I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of the grimy bottle and raised it to my lips. Forcing the liquid past my tongue, I took an unladylike gulp.
    The tannins and sugars attacked my palette and went up my nostrils, making me gasp.
    Then the aftertaste . . . vinegar with a hint of Kool-Aid.
    I belched unexpectedly. The sound filled the room and echoed off the walls. Almost as loud as one of Elliot’s burps. A feeling of pride made me smile.
    I took another sip. And another.
    The last few weeks had been a living hell. But now I was in the middle of nowhere. Not a single soul could bother me. Wiping the wine dribble from my lower lip, I moved into the living room. My insides were warming up and I let my hips sway. I reached for the knob on the radio and turned up the volume. Taking my bottle with me, I went in search of matches.
    I lost track of time. A happy glow was spreading upwards through my chest. I caught the beat of the music and twirled around and around, dancing from the kitchen to the living room.
    Before I knew it, the bottle was almost empty and the butts of two cigarettes rested in a piece of foil I had turned into an ashtray. Everything was spinning and the room around me was bathed in a fuzzy radiance. A rap song played on the radio, and even though I had absolutely no idea what the words were, I danced to the beat with a passion that Colin, my ex , would say I had never been able to exhibit in bed.
    I held my cigarette up, ready to attempt my first twerk, when I heard a loud pounding at the window. I froze with my bottom sticking straight out.
    A beam of light distorted an image on the other side of the pane, making it look like a monster. Suddenly, the fact that I was alone in the middle of the woods wasn’t such a great thing.
    I opened my mouth to scream. But it was like a bad horror movie. Nothing came out. A hand pounded on the window again, almost shattering it.
    I lowered everything—the bottle, the cigarette, and the ridiculous pose I had been attempting—and finally found my vocal cords. My bloodcurdling scream cut through the bass of the music and gave me the energy to move. I set down the bottle and smashed the butt of the cigarette