Transition: Chapter 25 (The Longwharf)

“Kendal!” Scott Marcus bellows a greeting as Jillian walks into the room that houses the pool. “Brewski!” he adds, and tosses her a can of beer from a handy cooler. He’s sitting in a whirlpool spa just to the right of the door as Jillian walks in, he’s leaning back comfortably in a corner, his arms sprawled over the edge, a can of beer in one hand.

In another corner of the spa, Carla Kwan sits in a similar position, beer in hand, gazing at Jillian through torpid eyes. She appears to be naked, or at least topless. Her white breasts bob gently on the swirling eddies of steaming water. “Hi, Jill,” she says thickly.

Oh, great, Jillian thinks. Just what kind of party is this? Is Scott naked too? Thankfully, it’s impossible for her to see through the roiled surface of the foaming water.

She averts her eyes and surveys the room. Maybe thirty people are cavorting in and around the pool, where some kind of race appears to be in progress. About half a dozen revelers, some with beer cans in both hands, are staring into the pool and cheering with gusto.

Walking over to the lip of the pool, she watches as two swimmers go back and forth, back and forth. They seem to be playing more than racing, and the pool isn’t long enough for any kind of real race, anyway.

She realizes that she’s bored. It all seems so pointless.

Music is blaring from speakers that seem to be attached to some kind of small device, perhaps an iPod, that’s lying at the top of the steps that descend into the pool. That’s too close, she thinks; it’ll get splashed and that’ll be the end of it. Half the people in the room seem to be singing sloppily along with the music: “A lu-eye lu-eye, OH, NO, I say-a me gotta go now!” A few limp bodies lie sprawled in the lounge chairs that line the perimeter of the pool. Crushed beer cans litter the room like shiny aluminum confetti. She notices that she still has a can of beer in her hand, unopened. She sets it down on the rim of the pool...

And suddenly, she’s tired again.

And it’s not her kind of party, anyway.

She’s been out of bed for no more than a few minutes, but if this brief excursion serves to exorcise that horrible dream, it will have been worth it. But now it’s time to take the elevator back up to the room, hop into bed, and try to get some sleep...