Beach Reads
Page 18
Since stopping the drugs cold turkey wasn’t going to cut it, I tried to do as little as possible to maintain a light high. The only problem was, once I started feeling that feeling, I didn’t want it to end. It was a vicious fucking cycle. There was no happy medium, like Quinn had asked me to find. I told her there was because I didn’t want her to worry, but the truth was that it was either be high as the sky, or crash into the pits of hell on the way down. I hoped she’d forgive me once she realized.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see my mom’s name on the screen. I hesitated for only a second before answering. “Hey Mom, what’s up?”
“Just checking in. You okay?”
She always worried about me and she didn’t even know about the drugs. I imagined how absolutely freaked out and disappointed she’d be if she found out. “I’m good Mom. Just on set. How are you?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, her voice a little off and I wondered what tabloid report she’d read now.
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s just this online site. It says that you were,” she stopped short, sucking in a loud breath, “Oh, nevermind Ryson. It’s nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were doing okay.”
“Don’t worry about me Mom and you know those reports are made up. Stop reading them.” I said, hoping she’d believe me.
“I know, I can’t help it. I like to follow your career, but there’s so little of that ever reported. It’s all,” she paused again, “it’s all bad stuff.”
“Mom. That’s what sells. That’s why they write it. I’m fine okay. But I have to go, they’re calling for me.”
“Okay. I love you,” she said, her voice sounding a little more like her normal self.
“Love you too. Bye.” I ended the call before freaking out internally about the gossip reports. It was true that the tabloids got things wrong all the time, but sometimes, sometimes, they got it so right. I hated wondering what she’d read and hated even more knowing that it was probably true. Most of all, I hated lying to her. It made me feel even worse than the fact that I was addicted to something I couldn’t seem to quit.
I needed something else to do. If I was going to stop with the drugs, I needed to replace them. It couldn’t be Quinn, I knew that, but I also felt like something was going to have to take their place. I was starting to worry that maybe I had some sort of addictive personality disorder, always chasing a high to feel content. The worst part was that I wasn’t like this before I did the drugs the first time. There had never been this overwhelming void inside of me just begging to be filled.
Glancing around my trailer, my eyes landed on a banged up surfboard hanging on the wall. It had been hanging there for so long that I’d practically stopped seeing it. I played a surfer in my last movie and had fallen in love with the sport after I insisted on filming my own water scenes. Well, most of them anyway. There was no way in hell that I could ride the kinds of waves these guys navigated with ease. That took years of practice and I’d been on a board for about two and a half months.
I took lessons from the best pro surfers in the area. I studied the water, wave breaks and reef placement. I practiced harder than anyone else because I wanted my work to look authentic. The only way I was giving the okay for a stunt double in basic water scenes was if I couldn’t make it look good myself. And apparently I did alright because the majority of my simple surf scenes made the final cut instead of the cutting room floor. I remembered how proud I’d been of my hard work and how much I loved being in the water. It was calming, almost meditative, floating there. How could I have forgotten that?
Reaching for the blue and white board, I pulled it free from its hangars and leaned it up against my table. After we wrapped for the night, I was strapping this baby to my car and hitting the water. If the ocean didn’t help kill me, maybe it could help save me.
Five
Quinn
Ryson mentioned something in passing last week about surfing and how he’d taken it up again. It never occurred to me that he could surf, so I pushed him for more information about it. Truth be told, I’d always loved the beach, the ocean and the surfers. What red-blooded Southern California girl didn’t?
It was my dream to live in Malibu one day. A dream I knew I would turn into a reality. And the idea of watching Ryson surf there lit a small fire inside me. I badgered him until he told me where he liked to go.
Surfrider Beach, Malibu.
Which was why I was sitting in the small parking lot at half past five in the morning, watching him zip up his black pants wetsuit and run toward the water, surfboard tucked under his arm. He moved the board to the front of his body as he leaped into the water and my body shook involuntarily as I imagined the chills that must have run through him. Our water wasn’t warm and even with a wetsuit on, you still felt the cold.
Ryson paddled out and I knew that I’d lose sight of him soon if I didn’t get out of my car and head toward the sand. I’d been watching Ryson surf here for the past four mornings in a row, thankful that he seemed to stick to a routine. I wasn’t sure if he knew I was there or not since I always bolted before he came back to shore. I knew it seemed like a creepy thing to do, observe him without his knowledge, but it felt necessary, almost like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Wherever Ryson was, my body followed.
Grabbing a blanket from my car, I wrapped it around my body as I made my way through the semi-darkness and onto the cold sand. Ryson wasn’t alone in the water, but he was easy to pick out. He sat up straighter and looked taller than the other guys perched on their boards. His shoulders weren’t as broad, but I could pick that body out of a silhouetted lineup if I had to. I imagined how it felt to sit on top of the water, rolling back and forth with the current and hoped that Ryson felt as calm and as peaceful as he seemed to look.
When a wave started to form to the right, I watched the small group all paddle toward it, each one vying for a piece of the ocean to claim as their own; if only for a moment. Ryson crouched on his board before rising higher, one foot in front of the other as he controlled the board, slapping the front of it down and maneuvering it with the water. He weaved in and out, riding it until the wave resembled little more than a splash in a pool and he collapsed on top of his board with a thud, the water splashing around him as he turned his board around and paddled back out.
I could have watched him all day. I wanted too. But the sun was rising, we needed to be on set in a few hours and I didn’t want Ryson to catch me spying on him like some stalker. Bundled up in my blanket I made my way toward my car and drove off.
“And that’s a wrap folks,” the director yelled from behind her round glasses. I turned immediately toward Ryson and fell into his open arms. We stood there for longer than was appropriate, holding onto one another like our lives depended on it. I had a feeling that his did.
“We’ll get you that help now,” I whispered against his neck as his arms squeezed me tighter in response.
“Come on you guys, party outside,” one of our cast mates yelled as she exited the stage.
“You ready for it to be over?” he looked at me, his brown eyes now all too familiar as chills coursed through my body. I shook my head no in response and he kissed my forehead. I’d never want things with Ryson to be over; not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever But first things first- he needed to get better.
Reaching for my hand, he interlaced his fingers with mine as he pulled me toward the exit. “I don’t know what I would have done without you Quinn. Thank you for not hating me and for not giving up on me.”
I smiled. “I care about you Ryson,” I said and he grinned from ear to ear before I added, “as a friend.”
His smile faltered only slightly. “As a friend for now because I still have a problem,” he said matter-of-fact. “But once my problem is kicked, so to speak, it’s more than friends for you and me and you know it,” he poked his finger against my chest and I narrowed my eyes in mock annoya
nce.
“We’ll see. Help first,” I said, trying to sound strong when all I wanted to do was shout my agreement and attack his lips with my own. “Then we’ll talk about the rest.”
“Yeah we will. We’ll be talking with our mouths,” he said with a laugh.
“That’s how people usually talk, weirdo” I shook my head at him, clearly not getting the joke.
“I meant with our mouths and our tongues. We’ll be talking with no words, Quinn because we won’t need them.”
God he was arrogant. And it was so damned hot.
Ryson and I mingled with the rest of the cast and crew, neither one of us leaving the other’s side. I witnessed more than a few hushed whispers aimed in our direction and I knew that people thought we were together. The fact that Ryson refused to let go of my hand for most of the evening didn’t help put out any of those particular fires.
I didn’t mind the attention though. The truth was, knowing I would no longer be seeing Ryson on set everyday was more than a little depressing. I’d grown used to hanging out together and taking care of him. To say I was more than a little attached was a gross understatement. Even my heart slowed down its rhythm in response to our impending separation. It was going to miss him too. I tried giving it a silent pep talk, letting it know that Ryson would be back for us, but I don’t think it believed me.
And later that night when we said our goodbye’s, I couldn’t stop the few tears that had formed from falling. I watched as a single tear spilled from Ryson’s eye and felt my heart snap in response. His thumb swiped across my cheek gently.
“I’m coming back for you.”
I swallowed hard as I searched for my voice. “I know.”
“I mean it,” he said before pressing his lips against my cheek and then my forehead. “And the next time I go surfing, you’ll stay on the sand and wait for me instead of leaving before I’m done.”
“You saw me?” my voice shook.
“I always see you,” he said calmly as if there was no way I could be anywhere near him without his knowledge.
“But you never said anything,” I started to protest, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Either did you.”
Touché.
“We’re going to be together Quinn. I’m going to get better and then I’m coming for my girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips before he walked away. I threw up a prayer to whoever was listening that his words would be true because I knew deep inside that I would be waiting for him.
I’d wait forever for Ryson to come back and get me.
I only hoped it wouldn’t take that long.
About the Author
Jenn Sterling is a Southern California native who loves writing stories from the heart. Every story she tells has pieces of her truth in it, as well as her life experience. She has her bachelor’s degree in Radio/TV/Film and has worked in the entertainment industry the majority of her life.
Jenn loves hearing from her readers and can be found online at:
* * *
Blog & Website:
www.j-sterling.com
* * *
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/RealJSterling
* * *
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/TheRealJSterling
* * *
Private Facebook Reader Group:
www.facebook.com/groups/ThePerfectGameChangerGroup/
* * *
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/RealJSterling