Relapse in Paradise

by Roxanne Smith

Boston didn’t answer.

  A quick glance told her why not.

  His mouth hung slightly open, and he stared at her like a stranger had hopped into the van and asked his opinion on the opera. At least his ogling didn’t concentrate solely on her breasts.

  “Yoo-hoo.” She waved a hand in front of his face.

  His eyes snapped back into focus. He readjusted his hands on the steering wheel and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. You, uh…I expected…”

  She didn’t blame him for not finishing the sentence. He’d probably expected the very alternative she’d tried to swap her bikini for—a full-bodied suit with a skirt to hide the shape of her hips and one of those long, ankle-length cover-ups.

  Emily forced herself to relax. Her confidence wasn’t tied up in her dress slacks and blazers. Surely a skimpy outfit didn’t rob her of her self-assurance. She shuddered to think what that might say about her, to fathom dependency on her wrapper for affirmation of her worth. No, she wouldn’t fall prey to that societal nonsense. She’d be damned if a few dimples in her thighs would stop her from enjoying herself.

  “I’m getting into the island groove. I assure you, my bathing suit at home is nothing like this. Your expectations aren’t far from the mark.”

  “Big, big words.” He wagged a finger at her, his focus returned, and he pulled the van onto the street. “You do look amazing, though.” He nonchalantly shrugged and avoided looking in her direction. “So you know.”

  The echo of Akela’s words almost made her believe it.

  Almost.

  * * * *

  Emily liked Waikiki Beach. Mostly, she liked how the pushy vegetation fell away to acres of pure white sand and miles upon miles of gorgeous aquamarine water beyond. Only a few palm trees sprouted up on the sandy shores once Boston guided them past Duke Kahanamoku Lagoon.

  Boston walked on bare feet with his flip-flops in his hand, the other arm holding their basket of goodies, with two of the beach towels crammed inside. “Waikiki Beach stretches from here to Kuhio Beach Park, but this is the iconic spot everyone envisions.” He stopped without warning, dropped his sandals, and carefully placed the basket on a mound of sand.

  He settled back on his heels, thumbs hooked on the pockets of his ratty red shorts.

  Yep, they were back in all their tattered glory.

  He inhaled. “What is it you do for a living, anyway? Something in a boardroom with presentations and memos? All that jazz?”

  Emily squinted at him from beneath the wide brim of her straw hat. “I haven’t even dipped my toes in the water yet.”

  He shrugged, paused for a brief second, as if considering something, and promptly began removing clothing. He whipped his T-shirt with ripped sleeves over his head with a practiced motion. “Come on.” He tugged Emily by the hand, pitching her toward the water so quickly she had to grasp the hat on her head to keep it from flying off.

  “Wait! I—”

  Boston halted at the water’s lapping edge. He rested his hands low on his hips and studied her. “You gonna swim with the gear on?”

  She thumbed the brim of her hat—the only thing she’d be able to remove with him gazing at her like that. With a deep breath, she yanked it off, tossed it onto the sand a few yards from where Boston’s shirt lay, and gripped the hem of her cover-up. Despite common sense—the cover-up was see-through to begin with, her bathing suit clearly visible beneath—her body hummed from the intimacy of pulling it over her head while Boston watched the fabric slide up her legs, past her torso, and finally over the slope of her breasts. She laid the garment over the rounded top of her hat to keep it off the sand. “Quit staring. There are at least ten other women here wearing bikinis.”

  Even in the bright sunlight, the blush stood out on his tanned face. He dipped his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a creep. You, uh, look different.” He winked, contrary to his plea, slid his reflective aviators over his eyes, and slowly walked into the waves.

  Emily kicked off her sandals and traveled out to where the water licked her knees. She paused and, with a grin, fingered the small waves as they passed. The water was so crystal clear she saw straight to the bottom.

  Boston had gone out much farther, to the point where only his shoulders were above the water, turning to watch her follow in his wake.

  Emily quickly waded after him. The sunlight bouncing off the waves onto her glowing white skin probably flashed like a lighthouse beacon. Any minute, incoming ships would start redirecting their course straight for Waikiki. She waded close enough for Boston to hear her. “I used to be in software sales. I made the move to the marketing department two years ago, and now I’m an executive marketing consultant.”

  His face went perfectly blank.

  No surprise there. Even her family didn’t bother trying to understand her job. She clarified. “Something in a boardroom with presentations and memos. And jazz. Boardrooms always come pre-equipped with jazz.”

  “That’s wonderful. If you like jazz. Do you like jazz?”

  “I despise it.”

  “Work must be a bitch then.”

  Emily stuck her arms out wide for balance. The water slid over her skin, cool and clear, salty and busy. Had it been so long since she’d been to the beach, or seesawed to the ocean’s rhythm? “It’s not bad. My job, that is. I’m well-respected. Many women aren’t, so I try not to take it for granted. I’ve earned it, though. I always keep my back straight. Never show weakness, never doubt my decisions once I’ve made them, and never ever compromise when I know I’m right. A man wouldn’t.”

  The irony of excelling in what many deemed a man’s world, yet at the same time unable to obtain a man, had never been lost on her. The men in her life were able to respect, but never love her.

  Boston sank down until only his head bobbed above the surface. Up and down with the coming and going of the water, sometimes catching some in his mouth and spitting it up and out like a fountain.

  Emily copied him, submerging everything but her face underwater, happy to have her body hidden and distorted by the constant motion of the waves.

  He grinned when their feet bumped together. “Hook your ankles around mine. It’ll keep us tethered to each other. You won’t slip away on a current.”

  She did as he asked, using her arms to balance her body and keep her head above water. A bubble of peace enveloped them. The beach wasn’t too crowded. Even the splashing and cries of children mere yards away weren’t enough to burst their balloon of tranquility.

  Until Boston frowned. A wrinkle of consternation formed on his forehead. “My history with Jordan reads like a Clementine Hazel novel.”

  Emily didn’t know what to say. His comparison to her one of her sister’s horror novels tickled her, but his sudden desire to bring up his touchy past didn’t. Today was supposed to be about fun. At the same time, maybe he needed to talk about it with someone not directly involved. Someone who, unlike Hani, didn’t have enough of the story to pass judgment. “What’s her hold over you?”

  Perhaps she should’ve started with a less pointed, personal question.

  Boston’s head snapped toward her, and his jaw turned rigid. “Not a damn thing.”

  Men and their pride. “Look, if you want to tell me the story, great. But don’t pick and choose the pieces. If Jordan didn’t have some kind of power over you, Hani wouldn’t be worried.”

  His lips pursed.

  She flicked water at him. “Since you’re such a Clementine Hazel fan, I’ll draw another comparison. If there’s anything I’ve learned from my sister, it’s that a story can’t be told without honesty. Sometimes you have to shine a light on something ugly. Quinn doesn’t gloss over the stuff she finds difficult to write or refuse to dig into what embarrasses or shames her. Without those moments, there’s no glory in the triumph.”

  Boston grunted. “Is that a line from a movie?”

  “Probably. I’m not the words
mith of the family.”

  His expression was largely unreadable behind his sunglasses. She had no clue if he’d accepted her logic until he spoke. “Fine. You can have it all, Em—the good, the bad, and the way bad. First of all, I’m a teacher.” He scratched his neck. “Well, I was a teacher at the time I met Jordan. I’d just moved from Mesa to Honolulu after taking a job at a high school, goo-goo-eyed and so green it hurts to remember. We met at a bar. If you do meet her, the first thing you’ll notice is she’s completely fearless. Brazen. She slipped her number into my shirt pocket when her boyfriend had his back turned.” He paused and rubbed his chin.

  Brazen and fearless. So far, Jordan sounded good on paper.

  Boston didn’t speak with reverence, though. More like sadness. “Jordan’s never chill, never calm. When she is, man, you’d better take cover because it means she’s thinking, and she’s smart. Not book-smart. It’s a very calculated intelligence. A superpower she uses to manipulate people. I’ve never known anyone who can read another human being so perfectly.”

  Emily was torn from the tale by the feel of Boston’s leg moving against hers. Had he noticed? He showed no signs, but his knee bent and brought her closer. She swallowed.

  He kept talking, seemingly unaware of their physical closeness. “I’ve told you about my parents. They’re old and stuffy. I’m an only child.” He shrugged. “Jordan was alien to me, like a wild thing I wanted to catch and keep in a jar with holes poked in the top. But you can’t contain a wild thing. You can only hold on tight and pray you aren’t left behind. I was so afraid she’d take her energy and liveliness somewhere else. I guess that’s why I proposed. Trying to contain it, keep it locked up. Keep it mine. I had this idea she’d settle down with me. We’d have this grand, traditional wedding and then our lives would change.”

  “Tell me about your wedding.” Somehow, Emily had a hard time reconciling the woman Boston described with a church ceremony.

  He smiled for the first time. “She showed up at my place one day wearing a white bikini and a crown of purple flowers on her head like a tiara. We got married on the back porch with my neighbor as a witness. I think I knew then nothing would be as I had imagined.” His smile fell away. “Being with Jordan is like trying to hold fairy dust in your hand. In a tornado. With missing fingers.” He shook his head. “She didn’t change for me, I changed for her. I started living her life. When she went to a party, I went. When she drank, I drank. When she wanted to dance, I danced.”

  “Not exactly a conductive lifestyle for a teacher.” A knot formed in Emily’s stomach.

  Boston pressed his lips together and nodded. A breeze from offshore sprinkled ocean spray onto his face. The flecks of water glistened in the sun. “Jordan’s built for it. I had no hope of keeping up with her. Yet, I tried and it caught up to me. A three-day weekend binge rolled over into a Tuesday morning, and I had to go to work.”

  Emily almost stopped him there. Because surely…

  He rubbed his chin and moved the direction of his gaze to the open ocean. “I remember the day in vivid detail, despite my hangover. I’d assigned an essay over the long weekend.” He snorted in wry amusement. “All I could think about was having to grade thirty papers on why Jack London never held down a steady job. I did try to call in, but we had no available subs. I didn’t have a choice.” A quick headshake followed the deep sigh Boston pushed through his nostrils. “I went to work.”

  Emily put a hand over her mouth. “You went to a school drunk.”

  “Wasted.” He finally faced her, and she was never gladder for his reflective sunglasses. She didn’t want to see his eyes. He ran a hand through loose, wet strands of hair. “Luckily, I never made it to my classroom. Another teacher spotted me stumbling through the hallway, and I was escorted off the property and invited to never return. I haven’t taught since. I mean, I could. They didn’t report me since I didn’t actually have contact with students, but… Well, I don’t know if I’m the man for the job anymore.”

  Again, Emily had no idea how to respond. She didn’t want the story to change how she perceived him, but it did. He hadn’t always been such a saint.

  “Anyway, what good’s a guy with no money? Jordan bounced not long after I lost my job. I sobered up, got my act together enough to work. Without Jordan, the party ended. No reason to stay up dancing alone. I had no practical experience outside of teaching, and the odd jobs I picked up didn’t cut it. I hit up my retirement savings. I guess Jordan got wind I had money again because she came back. I’m such an idiot. I thought she’d missed me and came back for good. We were in love and everything was all right.”

  “The drinking started again?”

  “As my savings decreased. To exact degrees. The money dwindled down to nothing, and Jordan cut loose again. I got my divorce, but we played this back-and-forth game for years. Her new boyfriend would dump her and she’d crawl home. I’d get a real job, she’d crawl home. Eventually, I lost the house and realized I was homeless—”

  The way Boston said the word with such distaste struck Emily as perhaps the first time she understood him perfectly. So, how had he become what he’d become?

  Boston answered her unspoken question. “That’s rock bottom, right there. I figured, why try when she keeps coming back to destroy what I build. I gave up on life, basically. I decided to be like her—float through life in a cloud of blurry drunkenness. I stayed that way for years.” His mouth formed a grim, flat line. “Homeless and as high as I could get without sprouting actual wings.”

  This time, Emily looked away. His past made her uncomfortable. Yet, it fascinated her, too. Boston seemed so…good. “How long did you live on the streets?”

  “Five years. Give or take. Until I met Hani. His struggle is society and strict parents, not booze. He doesn’t fit in anywhere, but he keeps a clear head. Together, we made a plan for The Canopy and worked together to make it our reality. In a way, I owe him my life.”

  Quiet descended. Emily contemplated. Boston made a show of studying a fleck floating by. They’d moved even closer, hooked by their knees now.

  Emily tried to not think too hard about Boston’s leg in between hers, or the hairs of his shins moving in the water and tickling her skin. “Jordan never came back?”

  “She found me every once in a while at first. Then a year went by, then several. I saw her once or twice when I was panhandling with Hani, but nothing more than a wave or a nod. The last time was two years ago, right after I opened The Canopy. I’m sure you’ve heard the story by now.”

  “I understand you were seeing someone.”

  Boston ran a hand over his face, and the impatience of the gesture wasn’t lost on Emily. He didn’t want to rehash the tired tale. “Yeah. Pretty local girl. She didn’t drink, so what the hell would I have told her other than I didn’t either. Jordan divulged a few tidbits from my past, and boom. No more girlfriend. And, hey, once your ass gets dumped, well, why not throw back a couple? Almost too easy to get to a guy like me.”

  A guy with a pocket full of excuses. Exactly as he’d introduced himself on day one.

  Emily chewed her lip. How lucky would she have to be to avoid a run-in with Jordan? Normally, Emily arrived at a meeting with pre-established power. Her reputation preceded her. She had a name in her world, and people respected it. But to Jordan, Emily was no one.

  Worse, an obstacle.

  “I’m getting hungry.” Now she’d heard the story, she’d love to put it behind them. “Didn’t you say something about a Greek place around here somewhere?” She gingerly untangled her legs from his, without kneeing anything precious, and found the sand with her toes. She dug in and pushed herself toward the shore. She was waist-deep before she noticed Boston hadn’t followed.

  She glanced back with her hand over her eyes like a visor. “You coming?”

  Sunlight glinted off his shades. One side of his mouth quirked. “I need a minute.”

  “Breakfast was foreve
r ago. Don’t tell me you’re not starving.”

  He cleared his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You have some very long…very soft…legs, Emily. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten, but it’s been far longer since I’ve fulfilled other appetites, if you take my meaning.”

  Emily’s entire body flushed as she did, indeed, take his meaning. She stammered a reply without forming a single intelligible word.

  So, he had noticed their proximity to each other.

  He grinned at her obvious discomfiture. “Didn’t I tell you I’m a leg man?”

  * * * *

  Boston had avoided spending an entire day in the over-crowded Waikiki area since his first months in Honolulu, when he’d been afraid to branch out into the unknown. Like many transplants, it’d been his starting point. A familiar face in a sea of strangers. It’d taken him time to discover the rest of Oahu.

  Usually, when a client wanted to spend time near major attractions, Boston left them to their own devices. But Emily had become too tangled in his private affairs. It didn’t feel right to make her go solo. Besides, she might’ve invited Ryder to accompany her, and he’d probably have happily joined her, especially once he caught sight of her in that damn bikini.

  Where in the hell had Emily been hiding that body?

  Yeah, he’d noticed her long, toned alabaster legs, but he hadn’t expected the rest of her body to keep up so well, much to his detriment. Even now, with Emily walking ahead of him, he had a hard time noticing anything beyond the shape of her curves, from the proud set of her shoulders to her rounded ass just visible through the sheer cover, offering a languid swaying tease with every step she took. Her hair had dried in rough, wild waves, and the light from the orange lamps bordering the walkway glinted off subtle pieces of jewelry in her ears.

  Most impressively, her personality hadn’t adjusted to match the new exterior.

  Boston appreciated a woman whose confidence came from within. Emily was refreshing in a different way than Jordan had been. More real than frightening. More stable than teetering.

  A grown man’s idea of refreshing.