Meanwhile, I’m upstairs furiously sifting through my meagre wardrobe looking for something that says sexy but effortless chic; I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. I pull out my Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, ‘cause you never know, and then turn to Ridlee’s suitcase. Her clothes are so beautiful and mine are all so blah.
I pick up my phone and text her. Hi VBF
She responds instantly. R U CRiUS? Txt ing overseas from upstairs?
DILLIGAS
???
Do I Look LIke I Give A Shit?
???
LOL. Can I wear your clothes?
NO!
Pls Have None of my own
STBY
???
Sucks To Be You ;)
Riddddd-leeeeeyyyyyy!!!! Plssssss?
KYO
Knock Yourself Out?
Bingo!
THX BFF xoxo
XOXO
Well that little interaction probably cost more than lunch, but I’m psyched to have the green light on Ridlee’s wardrobe. I take out a pair of five-hundred-dollar jeans that make my ass look awesome and a Diane Von Furstenberg blouse, cut on the bias, that looks stunning, even if I do say so myself. I shower quickly and get dressed, applying a little make-up for the natural look. My hair, for once, falls in natural waves and barely needs brushing. For the final touch I pull on Ridlee’s Burberry booties and I’m good to go. I feel super sexy in my VS underwear, as though I have a secret weapon.
I race out of the room but pull myself up sharply as I get to the top of the stairs. I walk down casually, even stopping to rearrange the flowers on the middle landing ever so slightly. I can hear a male voice coming from the dining room and then laughter.
I appear at the door, smiling, the only one not in on the joke. Ridlee and Micheál look up as I enter. Ridlee smiles and nods approvingly at our outfit, But Micheál scrunches his nose, almost distastefully. “Hey there. You look great, but I wouldn’t want you to get your lovely threads dirty coming out for the day with me.” He looks me up and down, but he’s smiling appreciatively.
He, on the other hand, is wearing old jeans and a long sleeved shirt featuring the logo from his shop, Surf n’ Turf. He has working man’s boots on and he looks gorgeous. He face is tanned and his green eyes crinkle when he smiles. I actually feel myself swoon a little.
“What, this old thing?” I ask, pivoting a little so he can appreciate my ass. Dark clouds of alarm pass over Ridlee’s face. Placing myself between her and Micheál, I mouth the words, Don’t worry. She still looks concerned, though, so I kiss her quickly on the cheek whispering, “I owe you one!” and then head for the front door.
“One? Ha! I’ll send you a bill for the rest!” She’s laughing. “You kids go have fun now.” This she says with the air of one who has seen it all before.
I gotta say, I’m high as a kite as we climb into Micheál’s truck and head out along the coast road.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, glancing at the cooler in the back seat.
“I thought I’d show ye the shop and then take ye surfing,” he says grinning.
“Surfing?” I ask touching my, for once, perfectly-styled tresses.
“Ye surf, right?”
“Nope,” I answer, all gee whiz, what a pity. Truth be told, the sea kinda scares me. I mean I like walking along the shore, or paddling in the little waves but mounting a wall of water to ride off the end of it on a fibreglass board seems kind of like a death wish behavior to me.
“Not to worry, I’ll teach ye.” He keeps his eyes on the road, his mind probably already tasting the salty water of the surf.
“Great. Can’t wait.” I look out at the sea crashing against the rocks. He doesn’t speak, but I don’t do silence all that well. “I didn’t know there was surfing in Ireland. I thought it was too dangerous.” There may still be a way out of this madness and I’m not giving in without a fight.
“Too cold, maybe,” he says, laughing as though he’s just said the funniest thing in the world.
“Ha, ha,” I chime in. There will be no backing out, then. No one will ever accuse Erin O’Neill of cowardice.
We pull into the car park of the shop and go inside. There aren’t many customers, and when Micheál greets the salesperson behind the counter, I see it’s Siobhán.
“Hey, Siobhán, how’s it goin’?” I say, very cool. She’s still kind of intimidating but I know she and Micheál are just friends. Do I still sense a tiny bit of rivalry though? Nah, I’m probably just being paranoid.
“Yeah, great, Erin. How ‘bout you?”
“Couldn’t be better.” I smile and nod and have a look around the shop while Micheál and Siobhán talk business. I can see Siobhán showing him a print-out while shaking her head sadly. My gaze wanders. The shop is great; it’s a large space with wooden floors and big windows. They have everything anyone could want to take advantage of the outdoor lifestyle here — surf boards, wind-surfers, kite-surfers, sea kayaks, as well as mountain bikes, rock-climbing equipment and hiking gear. But there are no customers.
“But Micheál…” I can hear Siobhán almost pleading.
“Siobhán, darlin’, ye worry too much. It’s all good.” He kisses her on the forehead, and I look away, embarrassed.
“Well, Erin, what do ye think?” he asks, his arms spread outward taking in his kingdom.
“Yeah, it’s great. I love it!” I’m being honest, too.
“Ye up for a surf, then? We’ll go to Lahinch. It’s got the best waves. Siobhán has picked out a steamer and board for ye, so we’re all good.”
Siobhán smiles at me as if to say, you’re welcome, and I smile tightly back.
“Ye can change in the dressing rooms,” she says helpfully. “The beach is in walking distance from here.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Micheál is talking to a customer about waxing his board, so I take the wetsuit and all the other bits and go to get ready.
I remove Ridlee’s clothes carefully and am left in my VS underwear that now seems ridiculously out of place. Goosebumps appear all over my skin, so I try to get into the wetsuit as quickly as possible lest Micheál, or worse, Siobhán appear. The wetsuit, otherwise known as a steamer, I guess, has long sleeved arms and legs, and I can only hope that I’ll be steaming in the warm sense of the word once I have it on. I bend down to see what else she has given me. There’s a hood — bye-bye sexy hair — gloves, and slipper shoes. “Fuck, how cold is it gonna be?” I mutter to myself, trying to zip up the wetsuit.
“You okay?” calls Micheál from way too close. He’s hovering on the other side of the curtain.
“Yup. No probs. Just coming!” I manage to get the zipper up, thanks to the long attachment, and pack my hair under the hood. The rubber pulls at tiny hairs around my hairline and tears involuntarily prick my eyes. It covers my whole head and much of my face. Even the shoes have to be forced on. I stand up, a little unsteady; the suit isn’t exactly easy to move in. I look like an incompetent burglar. So much for sexy arse! Neoprene does nothing for me.
“Are ye right, Erin? Time’s a wasting!” calls Micheál.
I walk out as casually as I can. Siobhán stifles a giggle.
“So glad to be able to brighten your day, Siobhán,” I say, presenting myself.
“Ah, Siobhán! She doesn’t need the hood and the gloves today.” Micheál tries to remove the hood but my hair is tangled up in it. By the time we free it, the waves have become tight knots matted here and there on my head. I pull off the shoes and gloves and deposit the items in front of Siobhán, who is innocently standing at the cash register.