by C. J. Pinard
It’s not long before the yacht slows to allow the men to cast their lines in hopes of snagging a Marlin with their bait. As their backs are to me, I can’t help but stare at Trey Montgomery. The strain of holding his fishing pole in the trolling waters causes the muscles of his back to bulge and expand. His sandy-blonde hair blows carelessly in the wind. Every once in a while he turns to flash a white-toothed grin at Con, obviously enjoying himself. I can’t help comparing the two men. They seem to be the exact opposite of each in every way. Con is dark, where Trey is fair. Trey is good, kind, and decent; while Con is, well… evil.
We’d been trolling for about thirty minutes when Con gets a the first hit. Immediately, he pulls his pole up to ensure his hook is firmly embedded in the Marlon’s mouth. Almost immediately after, Trey gives a shout as he also gets a hit. The boat begins to speed up as the two men begin their battles with the mammoth fishes.
I can’t help but smile at the overwhelming joy the challenge of the battle is for both men. The air is filled with their grunts of exertion and shouts of mostly good-natured teasing. Their arms are bulging with the effort it takes to hold onto the fish while struggling to reel them in. Caught up in the excitement, I jump to my feet and toss my E-reader carelessly aside as I clap for them and murmur words of encouragement. It appears Con will be the first to land his fish, and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. I see Con cut his eyes over at Trey and smirk. It dawns on me, he’s happy because he feels he is besting Trey Montgomery. My joy for them diminishes. As with everything, Con has ruined this as well.
I turn my eyes to Trey when he gives a shout and begins to reel in his fish also. From my periphery, I see Con jerk his eyes in Trey’s direction. I turn my head back to Con as he begins to redouble his efforts to reel his fish in first. His movements become jerky and awkward and he begins to fumble in his attempt to beat Trey. In his haste, the hand he uses to reel in the line and the fish, slips and soon his line is spinning out of control as his fish races away, eventually snatching his rod from his fingers.
“Damn it!” he screams as he bangs his fist against the railing.
At the time Con’s rod is being snatched, Trey and his deckhands begin to secure Trey’s fish onto the boat. Con’s fists clench at his side and his face flushes in anger. It takes him a solid minute before he turns a congratulatory smile to Trey. I cringe as I know this won’t be good, not good at all.
“Well, congratulations, you son-of-a-gun. I wish now I’d used your string, then at least I wouldn’t have to replace my own line,” Con laughs too loudly at his poor joke. As before, I see Trey’s lips tighten.
“Me, too. Me, too,” Trey replies.
The ride back to the marina is somber and quiet. The tension between the two men seems palpable. Unable to endure it any longer, I move back to the railing and stare out over the ocean for the little bit of time I have left on the tranquil waters. I sigh as I watch the beauty of the sun setting and the water glows red as it basks in the lowering light. I tense as I feel the yacht slow and pull into its slip. Fun time is over, as my father used to say.
Con sends me up to the penthouse as he heads to the bar. I shudder at the thought of an angry, drunk Con. I slip into the shower and wash away the saltwater and sweat from my skin and hair. I’d just stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself when I hear a knock on the door. I assume Con has sent Tag up to keep an eye on me. Stepping to the door, I retighten the towel under my arms and unlock the door.
To my surprise, it isn’t Tag at the door, but Trey Montgomery. It’s obvious he’s had a shower as well, as he’s now dressed in sweats, and his hair is still damp.
I clutch the towel self-consciously tighter. “Trey? I’m sorry, but Con isn’t here right now.”
“That’s okay. I just came to return this.” As he raises his hand, I see my E-reader in his hand.
“Oh, how silly. You shouldn’t have come all this way just to bring it to me. You could have left it at the front desk,” I stammer as I bow my head, embarrassed.
“It was my pleasure. If I’d known you’d meet me in a towel, I’d been here quicker,” he says, laughing.
I raise my eyes and my lips twitch at his merriment at my expense. I reach a hand out to take the E-reader and I see his smile fade as his eyes pinpoint onto the bruises up and down my arm. His eyes follow the trail of bruises over my chest and down my other arm. His mouth tightens into a stern line.
“Who did this to you?” he growls softly.
“I… I fell down some stairs the other day,” I murmur, as I fold my arms in front of myself protectively.
“Chance, you don’t have to put up this sort of thing. There are places and people who can help you… protect you,” he says softly.
I can’t meet his eyes any longer and bow my head once more in shame.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I stammer.
He places his fingers under my chin and lifts my face up to meet his eyes, “I can help you, Chance.”
The pity in his eyes is nearly my undoing. “I… think you need to go now. Thanks for bringing my reader to me.” Without another word, I soundlessly close the door and slip the locks into place. Turning to place my back against the door, I slide down as tears stream over my cheeks. Even if I wanted help from Trey Montgomery, I couldn’t take it. I don’t want him to know I am the girl who’d been so brutally defiled all those years ago on prom night. Why couldn’t it have been him who’d take my virginity instead of that pack of wild animals in the Jeep? The old fortuneteller’s words once again flit across my mind, Luck doesn’t strike everyone.
Chapter 3
Early the next morning, I pry my eyes open and find Con still passed out next to me. Slowly and quietly, I ease out of the bed, careful not to disturb him. Slipping into the bathroom, I soundlessly close the door behind me. I gasp when I peer at my reflection in the mirror. The bastard blackened my eye! With tender fingers, I reach up and touch the puffiness. He’d been so angry when he’d finally come in the night before. I’d never seen him so furious. I had to get away from Con. I just didn’t know how. He’d been very, very clear last night on my chances of leaving him – over his dead body. For just a second I thought of Trey Montgomery, but push that aside. No, never. I can’t turn to him, no matter what. With shaky hands, I remove the blue contacts which are now irritating my eyes – especially the swollen one. I almost don’t recognize myself with brown eyes anymore.
As I struggle to pull myself together, my body begins to tremble uncontrollably. The trembling is so severe I have to place a hand against the mirror in front of me to keep from falling. I don’t realize the pressure I’d placed on the mirror until I feel it begin to crack underneath my hand. I snatch it away and sway back on the heels of my feet. I lift a fist to my mouth to stifle the sob which rise there. Just what I need, seven more years of bad luck… Luck doesn’t strike everyone.
I almost decide not to go for my daily swim, but need to get away, even if just for a little while. I change quickly into my short snorkeling suit, surf-shoes, strap my knife scabbard to my ankle, and grab a cover-up. Out of habit, I slip a five-dollar bill into the pocket of my cover-up. As I ease out the door, I slide my sunglass into place and wrap my towel over my shoulders. I hear Con snore as I pull the door close behind me.
It doesn’t take me long to make my way to the boardwalk, down the steps, and then my feet sink into the powdery white sand. The crashing of the waves is rhythmic and soothing. I take a deep breath and almost instantly relax. Like Trey, I’d stay on the water forever if I could. Dropping my towel, cover-up, and glasses on the sand, I run into the waves, gasping at the familiar frigidness of the water.
I submerge myself fully into the water and sling my head back to push hair and water out of my face. I take a long look at the distant horizon and dive headlong into the waves as they crash around and over me. I swim until my arms begin to ache and then press forward for a little longer. I finally stop with my chest heaving with my exertion.
I glance to see how far I’d come and am surprised to see the dock far, far behind me. I’d never made it this far out before. My muscles are screaming and a small tingle of fear falls over my body. I’m out here alone. I tread water as I allow my body to recuperate from the long-distance swim.
As my breathing calms, I glance once more at the distant horizon and am startled see a dorsal fin swimming towards me. From this distance, I can’t tell if it’s a fun-loving dolphin or a shark. My heart begins to pound. I’m not sure what to do. To comfort myself, I lift my leg and run my fingers over the diving knife strapped to my ankle. Not that I think I can kill a shark with my little knife, but at least it’s something. Do I swim towards shore, or do I make as little movement as possible? Deciding one couldn’t be any worse than the other, I turn back towards shore and swim as quickly as I can.
I’d swum for barely a minute when I feel the gentle strike of a large fish against my body. I freeze, stop swimming, and sputter as water gushes into my mouth. I glance frantically around and am thankful when I see the familiar body lines of a dolphin. I heave a sigh of relief and once again set off for shore. I’d not gone far when once again, I feel the strike of the dolphin. How odd, I think, as I stop once more, watching for the dolphin. In no time, the dolphin swims back to me and this time almost pokes me with his dorsal fin. Gently, I stretch out my hand and let my fingertips skim lightly over the dolphin’s silky body. The dolphin once more strikes me gently with his dorsal fin. His behavior is so odd and I struggle to understand it. Rubbing it once more with my hand, I set off again towards shore.
As before, I’d only gone a couple feet when the dolphin cuts me off once more. I’m beginning to get irritated. What’s going on? Stopping once more, I wait until the dolphin gets close enough and then I mean to push it away from me, hoping the dolphin will take the hint. As the dolphin draws close this time, however, I notice something I’d not noticed before. Wrapped tightly around its body and across its dorsal fin, nearly flattening it, is a piece of fishing line – a piece of very distinctive line; fluorescent sky-blue fishing line, to be exact. No way, could this really be the line Con had been using yesterday? What were the chances?
Leaning forward as I tread in the water, I try to untangle the line from the dolphin’s body, but it won’t budge. It’s so tight I can barely get my fingers between the dolphin and the line. Remembering the knife attached to my ankle, I bring my leg back up and remove the knife from its sheath. The next time the dolphin makes a pass by me, I tug it to me gently, and as quickly as I can, I slip the blade of my knife under the line and cut through the many strands. Immediately, the string falls away and the dorsal fin rises up in the water. The dolphin, seeming to feel the relief of having the tight line removed, begins to swim in quick circles around me. I watch in amazement as the dolphin jumps over and over again almost in joy. I smile, replaced my knife, and clap for the dolphin. The dolphin rubs his body once more against my body, takes one more leap, and begins swimming back towards the open sea.
As I tread water and watch the beautiful mammal glides away, I feel a weird tingle begin at the bottom of my feet and continue over my body. When it reaches my head, I raise a hand to scratch at the tickle it gives my scalp. How weird? With one more smile, I start out once more for the long swim back to shore. As I draw near, my smile begins to fade at the thought of facing Con.
I drag myself out of the water and bend to pick up my towel. Gently, I press it against my face and wince when I accidently touch too close to my eye. Damn, Con! I bend back down and scoop up my cover-up and sunglasses and head back to the boardwalk. Wanting to dry off a little, I grab a seat on a bench. Lifting a foot onto the handrail, I lean my head back and soak up the early morning sun. I’m not sure how long I sit there, but before long, I know I need to get back to the casino. As I put my foot down, I spot a penny, head-side up. I smile, isn’t that supposed to be good luck? I hope so, I can use some. Reaching down, I pick it up and slide the penny into the sole of my shoe.
For reasons I don’t fully understand myself, I stop on my way back to the casino and buy a lottery ticket. Good time to buy, the sales clerk tells me, the drawing is tonight. I give a foolish shake of my head at my silly indulgence. Just because you find a penny face-up doesn’t mean you’re now lucky.
When I reach the casino, it has begun to awaken with activity. As I slip through the gold revolving doors, I’d gone just a few feet when a bellman, not seeing me, pushes his luggage cart into me, causing me to stumble, fall, and slinging both my towel and sunglasses across the carpeted floor. So much for my lucky penny, I think. Before I can catch my breath, hands are grabbing me by my shoulders and lifting me to my feet. Slightly dazed, I raise my eyes up into the impossibly handsome face of Trey Montgomery. He stills almost immediately. I assume it’s due to my black eye and I self-consciously lift a hand to shield it from his view.
“Claire?” he whispers in a tortured tone.
I begin to shake my head and then remember I’d taken out my blue contacts. My lips begin to tremble and my shoulders sag. I’m tired – really tired.
Trey pulls me into his chest and cradles my head as tears spill over onto my cheeks.
“I can’t believe I’ve finally found you. I’ve tried to find you for such a long time. Why didn’t you say anything?” he murmurs against my ear.
Sobs begin to rip from my chest and it’s as if I can’t contain the pain that’s been buried deep down inside for so long. Taken by surprise, I feel Trey stiffen before he ushers me into the nearest elevator. He keeps his arms wrapped around me tightly, offering me safety and comfort. He leads me to his room and sets me down on a settee in his sitting room. He leaves me long enough to grab a tumbler of brandy. Even though the hour is early, I take a long drink. It burns all the way down.
Trey sits quietly with a hand on my shoulder as he affords me the opportunity to calm down. I stare deeply into the amber liquid in my glass – looking for answers of some kind.
Rubbing his palm soothingly over my arm, he asks me quietly and miserably, “Please, Claire. I have to know what happened all those years ago. I need to know who they were… what I could have done to save… what happened afterwards. I’ve spent my life trying to find you and trying to find out what’d actually happened. All I remember is waking up with a pounding headache at Look-Out Point and you were gone. At first I thought maybe you’d gotten a ride home. I tried to call you at home the next day to apologize, and it was only then I was told you were missing. I was a suspect for a few days… until they found you at the bottom of the ravine. I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back and do it over… protect you… be the date you should have had and not the jerk you got.” Trey rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t even know if we… were together that night,” he finishes softly.
I press a fist into my mouth to stifle a rising sob. Trey once more presses me into his chest. He murmurs against my hair as he rubs a hand up and down my back, “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. You just don’t know how long I’ve looked for you.”
Needing a little distance, I pull away from him, and rising, go to look out over the waking city. Once I trust myself to speak, I tell him, “Please call me Chance, I’ve not been that naïve Claire for a long time. As much as I always wished it had been you, we… you… didn’t do anything that night. We went up there and you passed out. You never knew anything. There was nothing you could have done. It wasn’t your fault, Trey. I’ve never blamed you. Those guys were… they would have… done whatever they wanted anyway.” Wrapping my arms around my waist, I murmur almost to myself, “I was told a long time ago I was unlucky. I’ve always assumed that prediction was true and it was… well, bad luck.” My voice drifts off as I’m lost in the past.
Rising to stand behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me back against his hard chest. “What happened after….?” he asks.
“I moved in with my great aunt, then my family died in an automobile accident… again, more
bad luck, I guess you could say. Then I followed one loser after another, until I ended up with Con. You know, it’s funny…” I say as I lean my head back against his chest, “I really thought my luck had changed when I met him, but I was wrong then, also.”
“Claire… sorry, Chance, sometimes we make our own luck,” Trey says softly behind me.
I give a sharp laugh. “I used to believe that, but some people are just born cursed. You want to hear something funny? This morning during my swim, a dolphin kept brushing up against me until I freed it from fishing line – and not just any fishing line, but Con’s bright blue fishing line. I thought the dolphin’s luck might rub off on me when I found a penny – heads up, and I thought for a second, maybe, just maybe, my luck was changing. But no, I enter the casino and get run over by a bellman.”
I stop talking when I feel Trey stiffen behind me. Slowly, he pulls away from me and steps away, now putting his back to me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“What?” I question.
“Chance, do you know what I do? How I’ve made my money?”
I shake my head.
“I take things that don’t work for whatever reason and turn them around. That’s why I’m in Atlantic City. The Diamond Mine Casino is in trouble and Conner Diamond has been scouting for buyers. He told me he had something here that would entice me beyond any other casino. I wasn’t sure what he meant at first. Does he know our history?”
Confused, I just shake my head. “I don’t think so. But he’s been acting so weird lately.”
Still with his back to me, facing the window, he says, “Chance, he’s into some really bad – illegal stuff. You need to separate yourself from him. You have to leave him.”
I stare at his back for several moments before sitting down heavily on the settee. Lifting fingertips to gently touch my swollen, blackened eye, I drop my hand defeated back into my lap. Over my dead body, he’d said, and I believe him.