COLLEGE DAZE
Chapter 3
I go home early. The day has been a long one, full of unexpected events and I am tired after being awake for nearly 36 hours.
Standing in the kitchen with the door to the fridge open, I blankly stare at the contents as I ponder whether to eat at home or take something down to the beach while I watch the sun set on this glorious Southern California day. I absentmindedly grab a beer, deciding to decide what to do for dinner later. I walk across the room and stare out the window. The view still takes my breath away. Mission Beach is about four miles away, with the wide open water to the right and the city abutting on the left. Splashes of color dot the beach, locals and tourists enjoying the pleasant evening. The lights are on already along the pier jutting out into the bay, an attempt to draw the tourists and their cash.
The bell connected to the call button at the gate rings. 'Damn,' I mutter to myself. No one knows where I live and the only time anyone shows up to the gate it is usually someone lost or thinking someone famous lives in this 14,000 square foot mansion perched on a five acre bluff next to the beach. My uncle, who owns the house, jokes it is 300 feet to the beach, straight down. The only other people who ring at the gate are people who are interested in buying the property. My uncle has it listed for untold millions and I am lucky that I can stay here, otherwise I would be stuck in the dorms. But then again, I take care of the place in exchange for living here and occasionally showing it off to prospective buyers.
I glance at the monitor. An older sedan of some sorts. Too plain for a prospective buyer, so it is probably a tourist. Adjusting the camera, I zoom in on the driver's window as I say, 'Yes,' into the mic.
It's her. It's Amber. She is looking at the speaker box not the camera. 'Uh, hi,' she stammers.
Adrenaline courses through my veins. Excitement wells up in me. I cannot remember being like this at the sight of a woman. I strain to keep my voice calm. 'Miss Colton, good evening,' I manage to get out.
'How?' She says, looking around.
'Camera, on the fence post.' I state.
'Oh,' I hear her amazement. A pause. Her mouth opens to say something. Another pause. 'You asked if I wanted to talk,' she states, clearly not having expected to have a discussion with a speaker box.
I am about to reply when she adds, 'I brought Chinese,' holding up a plastic take-out bag. I punch the open gate button.
Striving from the kitchen, I toss the beer can at the recycle bin. It rims in. I cross the second-story bridge over the swimming pool to the front door. The house is Mediterranean style. All rooms open onto the central courtyard. The rooms on the second floor are connected by a covered walkway of which the bridge is a part.
Very few rooms interconnected internally instead connecting together outside with the courtyard. The front door is more of an Iron Portico, whereas there isn't an inside per say, only an entrance to the courtyard.
I meet her car in the looped driveway abutting the front door under the porte cochere. I open the car door and she hands me the food casually. She stands and stares, her mouth agape in awe as she takes in the place.
'I really didn't look around much this morning,' she says. 'I left and didn't look back. I think I was still a little drunk. I wasn't sure if I could find my way back.'
I listen to her drone on nervously, surprised at the monolog, but that is clearly a better response than this afternoon in class.
'Come on, let's go have some dinner,' I say. Bumping the bag into her backside, I continue, 'I will show you around later.'
She explains what happened over the weekend in Las Vegas. Her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, and she had a good time Saturday. But things started falling apart that night when they went dancing. He flirted with several girls right in front of her.
Being upset over that, she cut him off that night after they returned to their room.
Sunday started good. The negotiated a late check out. She donned her bikini and tried to lure him into going to the pool. He said he wanted to do a little gambling before they left.
Ready to forgive him, she went back to the room early with the intention to seduce him before they left. But everything fell apart when she walked in. He was laying on the bed naked, a girl from the club the night before was giving him a nude pole dance, on his pole. She stormed across the room. Grabbing a bottle of vodka, she contemplated going after her with it, but retreated to the pool, crying.
A few hours later, she talked some guy in the gift shop into buying her another bottle. While thanking him, she thought about really thanking him. He kept running his eyes up and down her body, being clad in her tiny bikini and a coverup (that didn't cover anything up). She was about to ask him to take her to his room when his wife and two kids walked up.
Back to the pool she ran for more sunshine to go along with the bottle.
Near dusk, her boyfriend gathered her up. He tossed her the clothes she had worn the previous night and waited for her to change. On the road, they got into an intense argument that eneded with him kicking her out of the car and leaving.
Then, today after classes, the ex-boyfriend showed up at her dorm. He said he had been searching for her all night. He brought in all her stuff. She wasn't sure whether to believe him, but he looked exhausted and was still in the clothes she thought he wore on the drive home. Her memory was fuzzy on the details of their leaving Las Vegas and then the next thing she remembered after being left in the desert was waking up here.
I watched her closely throughout the story. Some times she was close to crying, sometimes happy. But always looking good in a cropped, light pink, spaghetti strap tank that was too small and a short, white, terry cloth wrap around skirt.
