Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series) by J Gordon Smith Page B

thankful they never had a pool.
    Young men wearing wet swim trunks that stuck damply to their bodies that left no doubt about their arousal wandered between the pool and the kitchen transformed into a massive drinks bar. Half a dozen blenders in different states of misuse languished along the black granite coated in drink mixes and scattered melting ice cubes.
    Rows of chairs from the dining area were pushed against the dining table flipped on its side and crushed against the wall. The dining room chairs lined the edge of the room where partiers exchanged oral sex and shrieks of drunken pleasure. Julie hooked Amanda’s arm and pulled her toward the kitchen. They found fresh cups and filled them with beer. “They got classy beer, at least.”
    A barrel chested guy with bleached surfing hair that hung from his head like weeds said, “I don’t think you want all that foam. You have to commit to the tap if you want anything out of it. Give me your cup.” He hitched up his immense red trunks.
    Amanda gave him her cup. He dumped it out in the sink full of dirty dishes and utensils.
    “Here, hold your cup.” He gripped the little tap end in a hand that seemed to make the flimsy black plastic nozzle disappear. “Squeeze it like this. See, it fills and no foam.” He released the pressure as the last shot flicked into her cup. “Now you, put your cup here.” He filled Julie’s the same as Amanda’s. My name is Bert and I tend bar in Old Town Temecula. When you need more beer you know the secret, or look me up. He winked and walked off, his heels squeaking in his wet flip-flops.
    Amanda sipped her IPA beer. Cold, clear, and good with crisp hops flavor.
    Someone killed the music blasting from the media center. Amanda looked over with everyone else. Haley’s black hair and translucent white arms embroidered with tattoos floated like a vampire ghost through the open patio doors into the moonlight. She pounded the air with her fist as her feet marched to a growing back-beat. Heavy guitar licks pierced the bucking drum line that now cracked through the yard into the house. Haley screamed lyrics into the wireless microphone in her hand while she wadded into the pool. The rest of her band stood at the long arc of the pool against the wall of stone that reflected more of their sound. Haley’s bell-like voice cut clearly over the twin growling guitars that seemed muffled as they seethed out from under wrinkled bed covers as bodies collided in the lurching beat. Half-nude dancers from inside the house shed their remaining clothes as they crossed the open doors and splashed into the pool. More bodies shed clothes and filled spaces in the water, dancing and bobbing. Steam rose from the hot tub filled with submerged lights that made a writhing tower into the sky.
    Amanda and Julie eased outside the patio doors and listened to the music. Sardis appeared from the shadows in the house. He nodded to them as he walked passed, offering a slow nod, “Ladies.” His naked body dropped over the edge of the pool. His head crested the water’s surface next to a large breasted red head that had already apprised his saunter from the house, a sly smile brushing her lips.
    “I didn’t need to see that,” Julie covered her eyes but split her fingers open to peek through and watch other parts of the pool.
    Amanda said, “Too many tattoos and the wrong guy –” She wanted to see Kyle but the scene around the pool tugged at her attention like the carnage from a highway crash.
    A blond boy in a baseball cap and overly long jean shorts leaned against the wall next to Julie. Amanda could not hear what he said but Julie smiled and giggled. The man pulled at Julie’s hand. She paused next to Amanda, “I hoped I might see Markus here. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll get a ride from him.” Julie winked at Amanda as she followed Markus deep into the house.
    Pounding like a kick drum rumbled from the house. The bulk of naked Bert burst visible on the