Summer Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

photos on the wall just down from the
bathroom. Though she needed to pee, Brie made a detour. Something
caught her eye. Three framed photos of different sizes all featured
the same subject. One appeared to be formal portrait: a woman in
her late twenties, blond, in a grey blouse against a white
background.
    Tamera.
    Brie caught her breath. This was impossible.
She had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life. Brie
included TV, movies and the internet in that assessment. Brie was
flattened. The photographer was a genius. The make-up person had to
be brilliant. To make you look this good. And you expect that sort
of thing from a professional shoot. Women surely don't look like
that naturally. You've got to have perfect lighting —and most
definitely PhotoShop. Brie was sure she could look almost as good
if she went to that same guy and was willing to pay whatever Tamera
paid.
    Brie looked at the other two photos. They
were taken on some far away beach. They were definitely not
professional and most likely taken by Brad. In the second photo
Tamera was wearing a sarong with a white bikini top. A third photo
featured her and Brad together, taken at some bash. His wife was
wearing a clingy blue gown that wrapped around a perfect body (Brad
looking gorgeous in his tux). The two of them were smiling smiles
that broadcast success and happiness to all the people in the world
who didn't need to be reminded that they were not in possession of
those things. But in these other two pictures, Tamara didn't look
any different than she did in that professional photo. Even outside
of a studio, in the harsh light of day— or the harsh light of a
camera flash— Tamera Evans looked like a goddess.
    Impossible. Not fair.
    The full bladder that Brie had managed to
blot out for a minute made itself known. She ran to the bathroom
and dropped down on the toilet seat.
    Washing her hands, she looked in the mirror
and started to cry. Brie hated herself for thinking that she had a
chance with Brad; for thinking that his marriage was somehow
unsatisfying and that Brie could somehow wedge herself inside that
open-minded, open marriage of theirs. And if Brad had any holes in
his life, there were certainly none that she could fill. Brie might
be what every guy in Trestle wanted but for people who roamed the
world, not so much.
    And what the hell was Brie doing wearing
Tamera’s clothes?! How fucking presumptuous is that?! She wasn't
worthy of using Tamera's Kleenex. Brie scrunched her face and
forced the tears to stop. She wiped her nose and grabbed control of
her composure, taking deep breaths.
    When Brie returned to the kitchen, there was
a highball cocktail glass waiting for her on the counter. “I wanted
to celebrate your handyman skills. I made us Mojitos,” said
Brad.
    “Oh,” said Brie, sitting down on bar stool in
front of her drink.
    “I want to get you drunk and take advantage
of you.”
    “You don't have to get me drunk to do that,”
said Brie.
    “'Brie, what's wrong?”
    “You didn't tell me your wife was so
beautiful.”
    “Well, okay... I mean, it’s not something I
go around bragging about.”
    “No, Brad— she's fucking PERFECT. What the
hell are you doing screwing around with me and cheating on
PERFECTION?”
    “But I'm not screwing around.”
    “You're a freak! Cheating on a woman who
looks like that ?”
    “I'm not cheating, I told you—”
    “—If you're not satisfied with her , you'll never be satisfied with anything. You certainly won't be
satisfied with me!”
    “Tamera's not mine, Brie.”
    “What?! Are you divorced?”
    “No,” said Brad. “She's mine some of the
time, just not all of the time.”
    “If she's not yours all the time, then she
was never yours.”
    “I don't have a choice in the matter. Those
were her terms. I knew it going in. It was the only way I could
have her,” said Brad.
    Brie shook her head, “Why would you do that
to yourself?”
    “I'd rather get a small piece of