by Tamara Woods
Scanning through the ad, she noted that the 7 am start time for the competition, "The things I do for justice," she said with a heavy sigh. She immediately felt a pang of embarrassment. Here she was feeling sorry for herself because she had to get up early in the morning. Meanwhile, Gamilla wouldn't be seeing the sunrise ever again. She really needed to keep things in perspective and not be a jerk.
Since Facespace had been a good start, she decided to check out WeView, and see if Gamilla had been a vlogger. It seemed all the rage for people to make videos about their experiences, especially low-key celebrities with a social media presence. Fraya did a WeView search for Gamilla. She had an impulse to see what she was like. Not the most impressive, but still a pretty decent amount.
The video showed Gamilla surfing at the North Shore. The waves were huge; it was insane. She seemed to float and dance through them. Her moves were fluid, like she had been born on the board, as if she had command over the waves. Afterward, the fan talked to her and Gamilla was so bright and cheerful. She even gave him a hug and asked for a link to the video after it was published.
Gamilla’s spirit shone so bright, and Fraya found herself smiling. In another, the guy named Trent leaned against a food truck selling ahi bowls. At one point, he and Gamilla were cozied up, eating shave ice. Liz from the newscast glared at the couple in the background.
Fraya kept searching until she stumbled onto an old channel that Gamilla hadn't updated since before she'd turned pro. One video showed her hanging out with her sisters and goofing on a 80s sitcom where a little girl played a robot. She did a Get Ready With Me late for school routine that was really funny. And she posted a boyfriend tag, which had an interesting revelation. The boyfriend at the time was the "stalker" from the Facespace post, i.e. Trent. Had he been hanging out in the wings all these years, secretly hating her and her success, or were they actually friends and her "fans" just didn't know everything? Did their relationship sour to the point of something fatal happening? Was the truth somewhere in the middle? So many questions.
After some internal debate, she speed dialed someone she didn’t necessarily want to talk to.
“Aloha, Fraya.” Ayden’s tone was cautious.
She could hear some loud voices in the background. “Aloha, Ayden. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
"No, I’m good. That’s one of our regulars. What do you need, Fraya?” His voice was heavy with resignation.
“I really think I can help, Ayden. Was something wrong with her neck?”
“Her neck? How—?,” He cleared his throat. “It’s an ongoing investigation. I can’t tell you anything about it.”
“How about looking at her past? You know that Liz girl, her biggest competition, seems to have disliked her for a long time.”
“What— you think all sports people are out to kill each other?”
“No, that’s not what I said at all. I was just trying to find out the status of the investigation.”
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. “You want to know? What do you mean?”
“I found her, Ayden. You have to understand that.”
“You need to understand, Fraya. Just because you’re my sister’s friend, it doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you all about this investigation.”
“You can’t be serious. Do you think I’m over here trying to gossip?”
“Fraya, let us do our jobs.”
“I’m just trying to help. She has an ex-boyfriend that some people refer to as a stalker. And they’re all on the island.”
“We know.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, we do. You think we’re a buncha mokes not knowing what the heck where doing?”
“No, that’s not what I was—“
“I appreciate your enthusiasm. But how about you stick to writing your little books and we’ll keep being detectives?”
“Oh, I get it.”
Fraya clicked end with more force than necessary. Granted, she may not be a detective, but she was a savvy, intelligent woman. There was no need to talk down to her, just because she was calling in information that could've been helpful. If she wouldn't have called it in, would she have been doing her civic duty? Would she have been doing right by the girl who’d basically died in her arms?
No. The answer was no.
He could take his little attitude and shove it. She would get to the bottom of this despite his clear lack of respect in her and her capabilities. “Her little books” her left toe.
She had three more days until the competition after which the key players would most likely leave. She needed to get a rundown of how surfing actually worked before she went out there. Maybe actually see some of them face to face. Fortunately, tomorrow she’d learn a bit more about being on a surfboard. Hopefully, without any sharks, she thought, swallowing thickly.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fraya opened a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a stick of sage to burn. Her Aunt Maybel had always taught her to clean out bad energies in her space by burning sage. She figured finding a dead body had fouled up all the energies.
The smell took her back to that day standing in the old kitchen with her auntie. She’d said to her, “Fraya, you cain’t live like this. Women in this family don’t wash a man outta our hair. We sage that sucker out.”
But it hadn’t worked. It was like her ex-husband had drained her home of all happiness and positivity. And the longer she’d stayed there, the worse she’d felt. She’d had to leave the house and the entire state behind to finally feel free.
She shook her head. Reminiscing over the bad times wouldn’t help her today. The past was gone. The best way to get over it was to stay in the now.
She rushed through freshening up and pulled on a bathing suit with a dress over it. After plopping on a wide brim hat, she slathered on some sun screen and packed a book bag with the essentials. It included her e-reader and a notepad, just in case.
She was meeting Keith at Kalama Beach Park, which wasn't too far from her place. He’d said it had fairly manageable waves, so not really where the big-time surfers hung out. The day looked to be pretty mild. She decided to ride her bike the few miles down the road. The mid-afternoon sun would beam down on her, but she needed those healing rays.
As Fraya rode, the wind played with the hair tufting out the bottom of her hat. Her thoughts were occupied with more than the roadway. Again and again, she thought about how Gamilla had died.
She’d been so young and probably strong, given her profession. But strength doesn't stop a bullet, unless you're Superman, Fraya admitted. She hadn’t noticed any physical signs of fighting, though. No blood.
Someone drove past and tooted their horn. She waved automatically, even though she didn't recognize the car. It was just that kind of town. She assumed whoever it was must've known her on sight. When they drove past, she immediately started thinking about the case.
So far, all she knew was Gamilla had argued with someone and had dropped to the ground. Did she have a heart attack? An invisible illness? That could be, but it didn’t feel right. Besides, why did the person run off like that? Why didn’t they stay with her and call 911?
That brought her to Liz.
If Liz had cared any less she would've been dancing on Gamilla's grave in that interview. The Cam guy had seemed so sad during the news, but that could be faked. Liz had also defended that stalker guy to all the haters. Though to be fair, Trent might have just been a bad guy in the eyes of Gamilla's fans. Fans only saw one aspect of the celebrity. Who would know then real tea about Gamilla's personal life? When Fraya had looked through the girl’s Facespace, she hadn't found any mentions of a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Who was close to her?
Caught up in her musings, she quickly arrived at the beach park. The ocean seemed to go on for infinity; the water’s blue so pure. More like a Bob Ross painting than real life. She'd never seen anything like it back home. On the horizon surfers played in the waves and one person went past on a padd
le board. Further out, a surfer took a nose dive and probably swallowed all kinds of ocean. Fraya gulped. That did not look like a fun time at all.
She secured her bike on a rack and exchanged her sneakers for slippers. When she checked her phone, it showed she was ten minutes early. Her friend was notoriously late, so Fraya posted up on a park bench to do some people watching. One of her favorite things to do. So many characters waiting to be written.
Since it was the middle of the work week, the beach wasn't packed; a nice change. A family with young children skipped into the water's edge, their youngest child rode on his father’s shoulders. The pure joy in their laughter brought a smile to Fraya’s face as she pulled out a bottle of water. She took a few blissfully cool drinks before slipping a towel under between her thighs and the hot bench. Her legs felt a little tired but in a pleasant way not a so-exhausted-her-calves were-burning-and-she-was-about-to-die sorta way.
Still smiling, she scanned the beach again. An older gentleman wore a teeny bikini that barely held his sausage and biscuits. He rubbed lotion on a lady’s back. Her matching zebra string bikini threatened to give up the fight of holding back her bustling bazooms. A couple jogged near the shore matching each other step for step.
Fraya felt like the only single fish in an ocean of couples. They were everywhere; chatting, holding hands, or even playfully bickering. She'd only gone on dates here and there since her divorce. Occasionally, she got lonely. She shook of that creeping feeling.
A few ladies tanned on their towels, and a group of what could've been family and friends were seated under a tent setup, chatting and grilling something that smelled delicious. Only a few serious-looking people ran to the water with their boards. They looked like could've been extras on Baywatch back in the day.
As she watched them dive beneath the waves and bob back up, her stomach clenched at the thought of what could be hiding in all that water. The nerves were definitely hitting. She hadn't heard anything about shark sightings on the morning news, though. That was a good sign, right?
She ignored the urge to leave and dug the sunscreen out of her bag, slathering some on her shoulders. Regardless of being blessed with the gift of melanin, she didn’t want to look like a raisin while she was still a juicy grape. She rolled her eyes at the metaphor. It definitely wouldn’t be going in her book.
"Ayyyye!" Keith called out.
She waved at him with a grin. He had on his customary board shorts and an Aloha shirt, this time unbuttoned in deference to the heat. She wondered briefly if he was that tanned all over.
"Do you want me to get your back for you?" he asked. She handed over the tube and he made quick work of smoothing the cream on. She felt a flash of disappointment and immediately felt ridiculous. That's not what she wanted anyway. Don't be so wishy washy, Fraya. He rubbed some sunscreen on himself. She got his back as well, making sure not to linger over all of those muscles. How does a writer get so muscle-y? She paused over the thin scars all over his back unsure if she should say something or not.
"It's okay. They’re old." His voice sounded strained. She nodded, even though he couldn't see her and quickly finished up
"You ready to catch some waves, brah?" He gave the shaka sign, holding onto his board.
She smiled weakly. "I'm not sure," she said, swallowing a little. "Maybe you could just tell me what it's like?"
"You can't know what it's like just from my words. You gotta try it out. Feel the waves, know what I mean?"
She nodded, but again, she wasn't sure. The idea of a feeding circle flashed in her head again.
"Have there been any sharks spotted out here?"
He laughed. "Not lately. You'll be fine. We'll start slow. Nobody's trying to be a pro today, right?"
"Right."
She followed him to his car and grabbed the board she was borrowing. A long board, he called it. He explained it was better for beginners, because it had more surface area. That made sense. It was gorgeous with blues and purples. She carried it to the beach, trying not to drag it.
"First we start here," he said, putting his board down on the sand.
"I don't know much about surfing, but the water's that way," she said, pointing her finger as she smirked.
"Hah. You need to learn some technique before I put you out in the water."
She nodded. Good, because she was clueless.
Even so, she felt ridiculous pantomiming paddling on the board. What was this life? And trying to go from paddling to a "pop-up" where she was suddenly standing felt impossibly like a burpee on crack. How in the world would she ever do this on moving water when she could barely do it on sand? And the leash thing on her ankles—they never wore those on Baywatch.
"We want to make sure we don't lose the boards, and the boards can help you if you have to bail on a wave," he explained when she said just that.
Keith watched her pop-up a few times and gave her suggestions to correct her stance for more stability. He gave her advice on situations to take into consideration. They'd gone to a side of the beach that had less surfers, because the waves weren't as hardcore, which sounded perfect to her. She wouldn't have to worry about getting in line, waiting on a wave or paddling behind someone.
"Great, a new social faux pas that I need to avoid," she said after he explained what it meant to "snake the line" aka jump in front of another surfer.
"Don't worry," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You're doing great."
She stiffened underneath his touch and he quickly dropped his hand. She wasn't sure if she had liked him touching her or not. Would she ever be ready?
Maybe. But not today.
After more practice, he jumped off his board and picked it up. She noted that it had the Aloha Wave logo on it.
"You ready to try it? We'll walk out as far as possible and then you put down your board and paddle out. I'll be near you to help out."
She took a deep breath. "All right, let's do this thing."
They headed toward the water. She refused to be scared. Just because the ocean was this huge immense, uncontrollable thing. She had this. She'd figure it out. It didn't look that difficult, right?
Boy oh boy, was she wrong.
Time after time, she got swept under the wave. She had the worse time getting the timing down. Her pop-up felt more like a slow stand and she couldn't quite get her balance. And all that paddling was exhausting! She thought she was pretty fit before she got into the water, but man, she'd underestimated how much the Pacific would kick her butt.
But somehow she still had an awesome time. She laughed and splashed water at Keith. Fraya didn't hold it against the ocean that she couldn't seem to stand. And the ocean didn't send any sharks her way.
Then one time, one magical moment, she cut the channel and paddled. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the wave come. Without thinking, she did her crack burpee and actually stood on the board. Granted, her form was terrible and the wave was a baby. But she felt like she'd won at life.
Afterward they took their boards back to his SUV. He congratulated her on catching her wave. She grinned under his praise.
"I'm not going to be competing anytime soon, but if I did it once, I can do it again," she said.
"Exactly."
He secured the boards to the roof. She wondered what they should do now. Maybe grab a bite at one of the food trucks? She definitely didn't want to eat at a restaurant. And she shuddered at the idea of all that salt drying in her hair and how damaging that would be.
"What now?" she asked him, putting her bag into his trunk.
"I was thinking maybe—"
"Hey Keith, you old bag of bones! Fancy seeing you here!"
Keith turned with a grin. There stood an older guy with bright orange board shorts with big white flowers. He had his arm around the shoulder of his partner who was a head shorter and a decade younger. Very attractive couple. Fraya felt frumpy next to them with her ocean ravaged hair.
"Hey Chad, what's goin
g on?" They did a one arm-hug thing and then Keith introduced Fraya to Chad and his partner Sean.
"Do you want to blaze one up like old times?" Chad asked. "We're parked right over there." He pointed to a van in a less crowded area of the parking lot.
Keith looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to decide. Fraya hesitantly agreed. It was pretty sketchy that these guys in a van down by the river...er...ocean wanted to get stoned. She was sure there had been after school specials about this issue. She hadn't smoked marijuana since college. She preferred coffee as her vice.
"We move around often, but that's fine. There's so much beauty on this island," Sean said softly. The van was a nondescript white with no real identifying features on the outside.
"Stealth camping is definitely a thing," Sean said when he noticed Fraya checking out the vehicle. She must've pulled a confused look because Chad launched a brief explanation on stealth camping and how they keep their van basic so they blend in if they have to stay overnight in a neighborhood for whatever reason.
When Chad opened the side door of their Vanagan and her expectations of a musty van that reeked of weed littered with empty chips bags were absolutely wrong. Instead, the refurbished interior looked elegant and refined. Chad told them stories of their six-month remodel while pointing out his favorite features.
Fraya tried to inconspicuously dust sand off her skirt. She silently thanked the local custom of leaving shoes outside. A t least she wasn’t tracking dirt in their lovely home. She pulled her hair into a bun self-consciously.
"I was in here before you'd fully finished. The change is incredible," Keith said.
The floor boards were a beautiful restored mahogany- found at an old falling down mansion, Chad told her with so much pride in his voice. The entire restore was like that. A brass sink found at a thrift store. A couch that they'd built that could convert to their bed at night. Underneath the couch they had their "garage" where they stored all of their hiking and surfing gear. The shelves were made of locally sourced wood, wire strung taunt across the front to keep things secure while they were driving. They even had a solar shower that attached to the back door and an emergency portapot hidden under a decorative box in their closet. A solar power setup was hidden under a bench on the wall to power their lights and electronics.