The Second Son

by Martin Jay Weiss

So he took off.

  Never in his wildest dreams would he have believed he would never be coming back to the cozy beach bungalow.

  But he never would.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ethan ventured the three-hour jaunt up the coast, all alone, in heavy rain, at night, on slick, serpentine roads—held captive by his flailing thoughts—recalling people and places Brooke had talked about, anyone or anything that might shed some light. His mind tracked back to the last night of their corporate retreat, when the Rabbits threw a party for the Stalkers at the inshore pavilion.

  —

  It was a brisk autumn night. The stars were brilliant and everyone was buzzing from blooming Pink Jasmine, salty ocean breeze, and house wine. Brooke was in the corner talking to her roommate, Anna Gopnik, a bohemian poet wearing an African Dashiki, and Elvis, a diehard hippie who looked like he had stepped out of a Grateful Dead time machine.

  Ethan approached as Elvis was delivering a stoned lecture on counterculture movements. “The Beat Generation rejected stifling values and materialism, brought on spiritual quests, the exploration of Native American religions is why we now open our minds—”

  “If you ask me, there aren’t enough Native American influences around here,” Ethan chimed in, hoping to charm Brooke. “If this place had a pig roast and blackjack tables, it would really rock.”

  Elvis and Anna looked at each other, horrified.

  “You’re disappointed?” Brooke mock-frowned.

  “Hardly,” Ethan smiled. “It was a great weekend. My employees needed to forge a new understanding of self and society, so they can pioneer new paths for change.”

  She beamed. “You were paying attention.”

  “I’m a good listener,” he said, raising his glass. “And you had me at ‘organically infused wine.’”

  “Organic fruit-infused wine,” she corrected him and held up her glass. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Anna fidgeted, annoyed, and tugged on Elvis’s arm. “Come on, I need a refill.” She sneered at Ethan and told Brooke, “We’ll be at the bar.”

  Ethan watched them walk away. “The disapproving BFF and Andy Garcia don’t like me very much.”

  “We’re not supposed to get too close to the guests. I’m setting a bad example by flirting with you.”

  Ethan blushed and noticed Bailey staring at Anna’s ass from across the room as she approached the bar. “Let’s see how she handles herself when Bailey starts up with her,” Ethan said. “He can be relentless.”

  “Anna’s his type?”

  “Any girl that will have him is his type,” Ethan joked. “Is she single?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that she was your roommate?”

  “Yes, but most of the staff actually do want to disengage and don’t like to share their personal stories. Dancing Rabbit protects privacy.”

  “There should be an app for that,” Ethan said, texting himself a note so he would remember to look into it.

  Brooke waited until he finished before asking, “So the Stalker thing was your idea?”

  “Yep.”

  “For people to stalk their exes?”

  “That’s how we’re marketing it, but it can do so much more. We use biometrics: palm prints, hand geometry, retina and voice recognition, tracking tools even law enforcement can’t use most of the time.”

  “Why?”

  “Privacy laws.”

  “No,” Brooke clarified, “I mean, if it’s not only for people that are curious about old lovers, then it’s to find people that don’t want to be found—”

  “It’s for full transparency,” Ethan said, turning serious. “Sometimes people can’t move on. We help them get closure.”

  “Because jealousy makes people do terrible things?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But greed is the real killer. Am I right?”

  He smiled again and put it all together: “‘Jealousy makes people do terrible things, but greed is the real killer.’ I like that. That’s good. Better than our current ad campaign, actually.”

  “I’ll let you use it,” she said as she leaned in close, and whispered, “if you tell me the truth. What made you come up with such an invasive business model? Are you running from something?

  Or trying to—?”

  “My intentions are completely honorable,” he said, revealing his pirate’s grin. “To take the company public so that I can make Fast Company’s top thirty under thirty and become more powerful than God, or Bill Gates.”

  Brooke shrieked louder than she meant to.

  “Are you shocked by my shallow ambitions or impressed with my naked honesty?” he asked.

  “Neither. I just find it hard to believe you’re not yet thirty.”

  “My birthday’s in a few months, but don’t tell anybody. Thirty is the new sixty in the tech world.”

  They laughed and shared stories and Ethan didn’t want it to end. He took her hand and they walked toward the moonlit archipelago. Angry waves slammed against the jutting canyon walls. Ethan told her, “I’d really like to see you again.”

  She stopped and turned to him.

  Off her aporia, he asked, “Is this where I need to say something so transcendent that it completes my transformation?”

  “Or mine,” she said. “Give it your best shot.”

  He intensified his gaze. “I knew the second I laid eyes on you that you were my missing piece. Let’s start making some memories.”

  She shrieked so hard she spilled her wine.

  Ethan got so flustered he stuttered, “That was, ugh, I know…gimme another try—”

  “No. Don’t! Please.” She moved inches from his lips and told him, “It was perfect.”

  Their first kiss was a deep one. Ethan felt it throughout his body and knew his life would never be the same. And apparently so did she. “I just broke the one promise I made to my father,” she told him.

  “Never kiss a guy until he takes you on a proper date?”

  “Never fall for the most charming guy in the room.”

  “Why would you promise such a thing?” Ethan mused, looking down at the raging waters crashing against the jagged rocky formation they were standing on. “It’s as natural as this spectacular phenomenon.”

  “And just as dangerous,” she giggled. “My father was French, so he would know. L’amour nous fait faire des choses folles.”

  Ethan waited for her to explain.

  “Love makes us do crazy things.”

  —

  Ethan stopped at the gas station in San Simeon where Jack had used his credit card last. He showed a recent picture of his brother on his iPhone to an attendant.

  “Do you remember this guy?”

  The attendant reeked of musky hemp and looked like he couldn’t remember his own name. “Should I?”

  “He purchased gas here a week ago last Friday, around this time.”

  The attendant snickered and looked down at his Android game. “A lot of people come through here.”

  “Were you working last Friday?”

  “I would have been here, yeah. You a cop?”

  “No. I’m not a cop.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “He’s my brother. I’m looking for him.”

  “Shit!” The attendant looked up from his game of Heist, annoyed, as if Ethan had made him lose, and took another glance at the picture of Jack. “That’s you without the beard, dude—”

  “No, it’s my brother. We’re twins.”

  “Oh, man, that freaked me out for a second. I think I do remember him, actually. He filled his tank, bought a few sandwiches and sodas.”

  Jack might eat a few sandwiches but he would never order two sodas, so Ethan asked, “One or two sodas?”

  �
�Oh, man, I don’t remember.”

  Ethan asked, “Was he alone?”

  “I think so. Yeah.”

  “Would you have noticed if someone was in the car when he came up here to pay?”

  “If she was hot, blonde, and stacked, I’d notice.” The attendant laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world, and then reset his game. “Good luck finding your bro, dude.”

  Ethan noticed a poster over the attendant’s head and read: The illusion of control is as elusive as the illusion of love. Ethan smiled as he headed back to his car. Just a week ago, everything in his life was on track. He had meticulously plotted and planned every detail of his life. The start-up he had built with his brother was taking off and he was preparing to propose to the love of his life. Now his brother and his girl were both gone and he just wanted to make sure they were both safe.

  Beyond that, come what may, as Brooke would say.

  He drove the final stretch into Big Sur, where the winding cliff roads overlooked a magnificent ocean view that made everything seem possible, especially to an optimist, and remembered his own father’s favorite expression: Der mentsh trakht un got lakht.

  It was Yiddish and it was never more appropriate.

  Man plans and God laughs.

  Ethan white-knuckled his steering wheel as he came around a sharp curve, never more uncertain about what his future would be, and prepared for the worst.

  CHAPTER 10

  Just before midnight, Ethan turned onto a narrow path leading up to Dancing Rabbit. There was a glow from the reception. He parked and headed inside, setting off door chimes as he entered.

  Elvis, the elder Andy Garcia doppelgänger, looked up from a worn copy of The Power of Now and greeted Ethan as though they had never met before, “Evening, sir. Still raining out there?”

  “Sure is.” Ethan extended his hand. “How have you been, Elvis?”

  Elvis’s shake was limp and cold. ”I was just about to close the office. Do you have a reservation?”

  “Ethan Stone,” he reminded the aging hippie, who he assumed was stoned. “Brooke’s boyfriend.”

  Elvis stared back dimly.

  “I met her here at our corporate retreat last year. My company is called Stalker. I have a twin brother.”

  If Elvis had remembered, he revealed nothing. “We’re completely booked this weekend,” he said, shaking his head at his reservation book.

  “I’m not here for a cabin,” Ethan tried again. “I’m here to see Brooke. Brooke Shaw.”

  Elvis’s eyes glazed over.

  Definitely stoned.

  Ethan glanced at the reservations. “Is she here?”

  Elvis shut the book. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “We protect our guests’ privacy.”

  “Then she is here.”

  “Didn’t say that,” Elvis slurred.

  “I know, but…” Ethan stood tall, his imposing frame letting Elvis know he was serious. “You know me, and you know that Brooke is my girlfriend. She worked here until a year ago when she moved down to Santa Monica to be with me—”

  “If she wanted you to know where she was, she would have told you, wouldn’t she?” Elvis pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “I’m sorry but I have to lock up. You’ll have to leave.”

  Ethan barged through the door leading out to the property.

  Elvis reached under the counter, grabbed an X26 Taser gun, and ran after him.

  The retreat was pitch black. It took a few moments for Ethan’s eyes to adjust. The steady rainfall made the resort look completely abandoned.

  Ethan made a beeline toward Brooke’s former cabin. There was a soft glow coming from the window.

  “Stop right now or I’ll shoot,” Elvis hissed, a throaty out-of-breath plea as he pointed the Taser, which looked like a blunt toy gun. “You can’t go in there!”

  Ethan turned back and saw the wire-thin gray-haired flower child shaking. “No, you won’t, you’re a pacifist who doesn’t believe in violence.”

  Elvis was hard to see through the dark haze, but Ethan could hear him perfectly clear, “Hell, I won’t. You’re trespassing, and I know my rights!”

  Ethan made a quick decision. Assuming that the old hippie was wasted and couldn’t hit the backside of a barn, he continued on. If he should get zapped, it seemed less painful than finding his brother in bed with Brooke.

  He burst inside the cabin like a bull in a China shop, knocking over an end table and a stack of books, and tripping over two chairs. Two people screamed, then fumbled with the blankets to cover their naked bodies. Ethan didn’t need to see them to know that it wasn’t his brother or Brooke. “Sorry,” he said, as though that excused him barging in on them, and headed for the door leading to the adjoining cabin. “Is Anna still living in there?”

  “Who’s Anna?” the naked lady asked.

  Ethan said, “A bohemian-looking girl, writes poetry, works in the mess hall—”

  Ethan glanced back and saw Elvis’s dark shadow stealthily approaching through the downpour.

  “There’s no one in that room,” the naked man said.

  Ethan went inside. The bed was made and the shelves were empty.

  No Anna.

  When Ethan passed back through, Elvis actually fired the Taser!

  Two dart-like electrodes shot out and delivered an electric current that not only stung like hell, but also caused complete neuromuscular incapacitation. And because the force applied is proportional to the strength of the person receiving the shock, Ethan received a huge sensory overload and he collapsed to the ground.

  “Come on out,” Elvis ordered. “I warned you.”

  Ethan felt a series of muscle contractions, but the pain faded quickly. It took him a minute to shake it off and get back on his feet, and when he did, he saw the naked couple staring at him, looking more stunned than he had been when he was zapped.

  “Apologies for the intrusion,” Ethan said to them as he walked out and shut the door behind him.

  Elvis met him outside, still pointing the Taser. “Time to leave, fella.”

  Ethan nodded and headed for the exit. Elvis followed him out, staying close, and just before they got to the door, Ethan swatted his arm down, yanked the stun gun out of Elvis’s hands, and turned it on him.

  “Where’s Brooke?” Ethan tried once more, knowing one of the Rabbits likely heard the commotion, called the cops, and that he didn’t have much time to get out. “I need to see her.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Was she?”

  “I can’t help you.”

  Ethan tried a different tact, to appeal to Elvis’s loyalty to his community. “She may be in some kind of trouble. I just want to know that she’s safe.”

  Off Ethan’s look of desperation, Elvis said, “I really don’t know where she is.”

  “Then let me see whatever employment file you have. Anything will help. I need an address, a family member’s name, a number, something to go on. Please.”

  “We don’t keep files. People come. People go. We don’t ask, they don’t tell.”

  “I know you protect privacy—”

  “We respect privacy,” Elvis corrected him. “That’s how we roll.”

  Some dogs barked and a few cabin lights went on.

  Ethan remembered the promise he made to Brooke, to never stalk her, never look for her should they part. “Please don’t say anything,” Ethan said as he handed the Taser back. “Sorry I barged in like I did.”

  Elvis watched Ethan walk away under the blanket of rain.

  —

  Ethan got back into his car and contemplated his next move. Brooke was MIA and decidedly unreachable. Jack would be easier to find, assuming he had told the truth about his job at Hounddog. Ethan checked the Stalker
app to see if there was any progress but his search hadn’t found any leases in the area under Jack’s name. There were, however, several under Hounddog. It was possible, even likely, that the company leased a place for his brother; the Wizard of Silicon Valley was known to treat his people well.

  The rain started to come down heavier. Ethan headed north onto Highway 1, his adrenaline pumping, mind racing. He had to get a hold of his brother. Worst-case scenario, he would show up at the Hounddog offices on Monday morning. But until then, he would keep calling. He hit the speed dial.

  On the fifth ring, Jack’s voice message played. Jack usually shut his phone off when he went to bed, never using the silence mode, and it was well after midnight. Ethan hoped that was the reason his brother wasn’t answering. After the beep, Ethan spoke, his voice shaking, unaware of how angry he sounded, “In case you don’t know, Brooke left me—”

  Ethan veered around a sleek curve and his car skidded. He dropped his phone, grabbing the wheel with both hands. Another car was approaching fast, blasting its horn, making it worse as Ethan countered, barely missing a head on collision.

  Barely.

  He regained control and fumbled for the iPhone. His voice was more frantic as he continued, “Everyone at Stalker seems to think you ran off with her. Everyone except me, of course. I know you wouldn’t do something so low.” He paused as if he were expecting him to respond. “Then again,” he added, “I never thought you could walk out on a company that we built from the ground up, without any real explanation, without discussing it with me first, and I haven’t heard from you all week…” He paused again, aware that he sounded too harsh. He really wanted his brother to return the call, guilty or not. He continued, “We really need to talk. Call me. It’s late, but I’ll be awake. I’m in my car, heading up north to see you. Call me. Call me. Call me.”

  Ethan hung up and tried to imagine what could be going through his brother’s head. They could usually sense when the other was in crisis, uncannily so, and he didn’t feel anything, as if he had been released from their bond.

  As Ethan navigated the slippery, snaky road, he thought about example after example of when he and his brother had shocked people with their intuition, sometimes even surprising each other. There were little things like knowing what the other was going to order at a restaurant or when the other had a bad day. Once Ethan had dreamed that Jack fell off a horse, and sure enough, the next day he learned that his brother did in fact get hurt horseback riding at camp. And there were big things, too, like when their mother was going to die and Jack drove to the hospital, not knowing why, even before Ethan called him with the news. Jack was not only his geminate brother, he was his closest ally in life. Sure Jack had shut down from time to time, on purpose, just like his iPhone, so he could recharge, but Ethan had never before felt this kind of disconnect. He wracked his brain to figure out why. Maybe the stress of building a start-up had just gotten to Jack. He didn’t deal with pressure well and there was a lot on the line. Their employees depended on them. If Stalker failed, getting financing to start another venture would be twice as hard, maybe impossible. And since Ethan had been spending most of his free time with Brooke, maybe Jack didn’t have anyone to talk to. Ethan wondered if he had been there for his brother.