Charlie laughed and waved, but kept walking. As soon as her toes touched the sand, she spotted Jude and Cybill. The beach was uncrowded, a few stray forms here and there, and they were an eye-catching duo: slim and tanned, side by side on a single towel, one head dark, one light, identical pairs of sunglasses perched on identical long, straight noses and raised to the late afternoon sun. Before approaching them, Charlie slipped out of her robe, stuffed it in her shoulder bag. As she got closer, she saw that Cybill was wearing a bikini, too, canary yellow, cut high in the leg. Charlie was pleased to see that while Cybill looked good, she looked better. (Cybill’s lanky, slim body was made to be in clothes; Charlie’s shorter, curvier body was made to be out of them.) She was less pleased to see that Jude was wearing an oxford shirt over his trunks.

When she reached their towel, Cybill said, “Who’s blocking my sun?” She lifted her sunglasses. Seeing it was Charlie, she let them drop again. “Oh,” she said, “hey.”

“Hey. Did you get my text?”

“I didn’t check my phone.”

“I thought we were supposed to get together.”

Cybill stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, before saying, “Were we?”

“Yeah, we were. We made the plans last night.”

“I drank a lot.”

Charlie was getting blown off. That much was obvious. She knew she should drop it, move on. Alice was right about Cybill. She was probably right about Jude, too. But she was mad now, pissed at the bored-sounding bullshit that was coming out of Cybill’s mouth. And maybe a little hurt as well. “You think that’s polite behavior?” she said, letting a little aggression enter her voice. “Making plans and then forgetting about them? No apology?”

“Don’t pay attention to her, Charlie,” Jude said. “She’s acting like a bitch, but it’s not her fault. She has a hangover, and the best cure for a hangover is a Bloody Mary, and I remembered the tomato juice but I forgot the vodka.”

Charlie smiled down at him. “How’s a Bloody Mary a cure for a hangover?”

“Science.”

“Science?”

“Yeah, science. Think about it. The vodka lets your body deal with new alcohol instead of old, and then the tomato juice is full of fortifying vitamins and antioxidants and all that crap. See,” he said, grinning, pleased with himself. “Science.”

Without a word, Charlie turned, started walking. She heard Jude call out her name. Not Cybill, though.