Charlie was playing along with him, talking cool and relaxed, echoing his mocking tone, acting like she knew things, when she was actually growing more confused by the second. Was he saying that he and Cybill did sleep together or that they didn’t sleep together? Or was he saying that they did sleep together but, for appearances’ sake, pretended that they didn’t? That it was an open secret, to be understood but not spoken of? Charlie realized she was supposed to be savvy enough to read between the lines, but the truth was, she wasn’t and couldn’t, not with any real confidence.

“I’m going to go take a quick swim so I can make myself thirsty,” he said, and began walking down to the water.

Charlie watched him.

“Why don’t you sit?” Cybill said, indicating the spot Jude had just abandoned.

Guess she was back in Cybill’s good graces, and all it took was a little petty thievery, Charlie thought to herself as she dropped down to the towel. Still, the truth was, she was glad to be there.

Cybill turned to her. “Look, all that talk about his recuperative powers—”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t take it seriously,” Charlie said quickly, though, of course, she wasn’t sure if she did or didn’t. But maybe she was sure now? Maybe Cybill was telling her subtly but definitively that they weren’t sleeping together?

“No, I was just going to say, he didn’t have much to recuperate from. Not last night, anyway. Almost as soon as Sasha dropped me off at my house, he knocked on my window. Wanted to know what I’d done with his flask.”

Charlie laughed. “Good to know he has his priorities straight.”

“Yeah, he spent the night in a nice soft comfy bed. If he’d spent the night on cold, throw-uppy sand, believe me, his mood would be much worse today.”

Spent the night in a nice soft comfy bed with you? Charlie wanted to ask, but didn’t. Didn’t because she felt Cybill wanted her to ask, and if she did ask, she’d lose something, concede some advantage.

Cybill kept talking: “His mom really should’ve had her tubes tied before she had Jude, not waited till after. She and Mr. Devlin were just not cut out to be parents. They left for Boston right after the party last night. Jude’s alone in that big old house—well, alone except for the staff—ninety percent of the time. It’s not right. Hey, Charlie, would you mind rubbing a little oil on my back? I want to make sure my tan is even all over.”