Wiped Out

by Tamara Woods

  "Hey, dude! I was wondering if you were going to show up," said the blond with a huge grin.

  "Good to see you," Keith said. They joined them and Keith introduced her to Cambridge—Cam for short, brah— and Liz. She shook their hands and smiled. Not that he needed to. Fraya had recognized them instantly. They were friends with Gamilla, the ones who had been interviewed on the news.

  "These are two of the guests of honor," Keith said and then it clicked where Fraya had seen them before. They were friends with Gamilla that were interviewed on the news.

  Fraya shook their hands and somehow found a smile. Inside, anxidty pounded at her ribcage and it strangely felt like a heart attack. She’d wanted to meet surfers; she hadn’t expected to meet the ones she considered suspects in Gamilla’s death.

  Forcing herself to find a normal tone, she said, "That's awesome. Keith was just teaching me how to surf the other day. I'm definitely nowhere near your status.”

  "Just give it some time, my dude," Cam said.

  "Yeah, right. It takes years of dedication to be like us, Cam," Liz said with a smirk. She flipped her curly black hair over her shoulder.

  "That's fine. I'm much more interested in being a spectator," Fraya said. She took a sip of her drink, measuring her comments. "How did you start surfing?"

  "My Mom said I was swimming before I learned to crawl," Liz said. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in the water." Her tone was so lazy it bordered on bored.

  "I started when I was a kid, too. Me and Gamilla—" Cam's voice broke. Fraya noted Liz's hand rubbing his shoulder and her blank facial expression.

  "I'm so sorry for your loss," Fraya said. "Were you close?"

  "She was my best friend," he said, his eyes downcast. "I don't know what I'll do without her."

  "Were you close with her too, Liz? You seemed pretty close when you were interviewed on the news.” Fraya didn’t know what she expected to hear, but it wasn’t what came out of Liz’s mouth.

  "We were friends, except when we weren’t,” she said. “I wanted to be on top. She did too. I guess now I will be."

  "What the hell, Liz? That's not cool." Cam shrugged her hand off of him.

  Liz looked at him in genuine confusion. "Why lie about it? It's obviously true. She was my only real competition."

  Fraya wanted to defuse the situation and blurted out, "Was Gamilla the same in person as she was online?"

  "What do you mean?" Cam asked.

  "She seemed like a really positive person. A lot of her fans loved her for her surfing, but also for her personality. She was pretty popular."

  "Were you a fan?" Liz asked. Her voice held a little bit of a sneer.

  "I wasn't a stan or anything, but I liked her WeView channel," Fraya fibbed, wondering where this would go.

  "She kept it real, and she thought if she acted one way in public and another way at home it was a lie," Cam said. His voice got quiet. “She didn’t like lies.”

  "Who isn't different on social media than they are in IRL?" Keith asked, drawing attention for the first time. "Even I have a public persona versus private one and I'm nowhere near famous."

  "She wasn't like that. It was tiresome," Liz said, picking up her beverage. It was different shades of blues and purples, just as beautiful as everything else at the party. “Being authentic was like her whole gig.” to show exactly how much she thought of Gamilla’s morals.

  "Was she dating anybody?" Fraya asked.

  Cam stiffened and looked at her funny. "Why would you ask that?" he asked.

  "I'm just curious. If anybody would spill the tea, it would be now."

  "That's a messed up thing to say," Cam said.

  Liz chuckled. "She wasn't dating anybody, but let's just say we had a lot in common. But I never kiss and tell."

  Cam slammed his stein of beer onto the ground. He jumped up.

  "This is messed up, brah. Gam would never want this." He shoved his way through Keith and Fraya, and stomped away. Fraya and Keith just looked at each other in confusion.

  Shrugging, Liz raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her drink as she met Fraya’s eyes. “We all wipe out sooner or later. Gam just went down a little harder than most.” She saluted them with her empty glass before wandering away to strike up another conversation.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Fraya. Her eyes narrowed as she stared holes through Liz’s back. Now, more than ever, she wondered just how far jealousy and competitiveness could drive a person.

  AS THE EVENING PROGRESSED, the party goers got looser, voices getting louder and a bit more slurred. The surfers were mostly sober, not wanting to risk winning on one night of fun. Keith introduced her to the other competitors, but Fraya didn't mention Gamilla. Instead, she observed and listened.

  Cam and Liz had disappeared and Fraya wondered if they'd left together. What had they been arguing about when she first saw them? And who was Liz referring to that Gamilla was "seeing," which Fraya was pretty sure was code for sleeping with?

  Knowing she needed to keep a clear head, she stuck to her sparkling water. Keith was soon sipping a bottle of water as well. When she'd offered to drive so he could let loose and drink, he had shot her a look.

  "What? You don't think I can drive you man wagon?"

  "Not that man wagon anyway," he said with a wink.

  She rolled her eyes and smacked him on his arm. "Sexist."

  "Maybe. But you're still not touching that steering wheel," he said.

  Smoke from cigarettes, cigars, and pakalolo filtered through the air. It's bad when there's so many people smoking that you can't get a fresh breath of air, she thought.

  "Hey, do you have an extra cigarette?"

  She turned and found a guy standing there with dirty blond hair and a sad look in his eyes.

  She shook her head, "Sorry, I quit."

  He nodded. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, so she waited patiently. He just kept staring at her with his haunted eyes, like he didn't know where to start.

  "I'm Fraya," she finally said, holding out her hand.

  "Trent," he said, shaking with a loose grip.

  She noticed his thumb was torn ragged. "The stalker?" she said. It had slipped before she thought. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  He smirked humorlessly. "I take it you believe everything you see on the internet, huh?"

  "Actually, I don't. That's just how I know your name. Sorry about that."

  He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. At least you’re honest. Most people here aren't. A bunch of fakes." His mouth twisted like he was tasting the bitterness of his words.

  "I guess so?"

  "They only want what they can get from you. And if you give and give until you got nothing left, then you're useless."

  "Is that how Gamilla treated you?"

  "No, she wasn't like the rest of these jerks. She was different. Special." His eyes softened and a myriad of emotions chased their way across his face.

  "I was the one who found her," Fraya said. She put her hand on his arm. "I’m really sorry for your loss."

  His eyes widened and his mouth moved without sound for a few seconds. He stopped and collected himself.

  "Did she...Was she... Was she in a lot of pain?" His voice was so strained, like he was forcing the words.

  "It happened so fast," Fraya said. How could she tell him for sure that it was painless? She had no real clue. But the pain hadn't lingered at least for Gamilla.

  "I wish I could've been there for her more. I wasn't even on island yet, but I wish I could've been...more." He seemed to lose himself in thought. He cleared his throat and shook his head."I gotta find a smoke. Have fun," he said and abruptly left.

  She stood there trying to absorb what she'd just heard. He didn't seem like a stalker. He just seemed like a guy who had lost his chance with a girl he loved. Granted, she knew nothing about their relationship or him as a person. But she didn't get a vibe that anything was off with him.

  Fraya wande
red around, giving the rock grotto a closer look when a woman came over to chat with her. Fraya had seen her earlier with her husband. With their matching bleach white hair and deep orange tans, they'd been hard not to notice. The woman introduced herself as Julia.

  "Hey there, I saw you earlier. Love your OOTD," Julia said, running her eyes over Fraya's form with admiration.

  "Thank you, it's one of my favorites," Fraya replied with a smile. "Your dress is stunning,"

  Julia was wearing a white body con that fit her generous curves like a glove with cut-outs at her hip and right below her bust. "Oh this old thing? It's Valentino," she said with a laugh, brushing her blond hair away from her medically enhanced lips. She seemed like a celebrity or someone who desperately wanted to be one.

  Fraya didn't delve too deeply into the world of celebrity. It struck her odd that on this isolated island would be where her experiences with the rich and famous would start.

  "You wear it well," Fraya said politely, taking a sip of her water. She looked around and didn't see Keith anywhere. The woman reached out and she steeled herself for the uncomfortable feeling of her touching her hair. Instead, Julia touched her décolletage above her top, and stroked the rise of her breast.

  "You know we could have a lot of fun together." She licked her lips lasciviously, as if Fraya could’ve missed the first hint.

  Fraya froze. Of all the scenarios, in all the land, this was not the one that she'd imagined. "Excuse me?" she squeaked.

  "Me, you, my husband, your boyfriend—"

  "We're not dating."

  "Even better!" Julia tried to pull a sexy face, but her lips stuck together in a glossy, gooey web. Fraya stumbled backward and stepped on the person standing behind her.

  "I got ya," Keith said in her ear. "Want me to show you my favorite part of this place?"

  She nodded and gave a finger wave goodbye to the handsy woman.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tucked in the back of Roderick's property, hidden away from the wandering eye was an incredibly imposing maze. The massive hedges towered over Fraya and Keith in a way that made her feel short af. It was at least nine feet tall with flowers and plants growing at the top. She felt vaguely uneasy looking at it. The opening was another large wooden door with hedges on either side obscuring the view within.

  "Wow, this feels serious," she said, her voice quiet. It seemed appropriate to keep their voices low. They were the only ones attempting the maze in the waning light.

  They entered the door and the maze opened into three different paths, each lined with a different color: purple, orange, and green. There was also a white rope of lights showing the way, which was great as the sun went.

  "After you get through so much of the lights, they all become white," Keith said. "And that's when things get really confusing." She nodded and looked around, already feeling lost. Maybe that was the point. She noticed at the top there were white flowers that reminded her of blue bonnets from her home state.

  "What are those flowers? What do they smell like?" She pointed to the top of the shrubs. She imagined their scent would be sweet and maybe a bit cloying. There were so many different flowers in the area, it was hard to distinguish one smell from another.

  "They're Angel Tubas or something like that. You can ask Rod more about them. He's always been really into plants."

  "I wouldn't have guessed," she said, wryly. The entire grounds was covered in beautiful blooms and ivies. It was like being in a fairy tale. Only she wasn’t the narrator of this book, and the bad guy was still out there. She shuddered, trying not to think about the bad points in her week, but she didn't have much of a choice. She wouldn't be able to let it rest until Gamilla's murderer was found.

  "You all right?"

  "It's been a rough week," she said. She made a conscious effort to put things aside and have fun in the moment. She pointed to the purple line. "Let's go down that one!"

  They started on their journey with Fraya in the forefront. Keith had gone through it many times and had a pretty good fix on how to get out. The maze had so many twists and turns. She wasn't sure how long they'd been in there or even how far away from the house they'd wandered. She turned to go through the white lane, but noticed something poking out of a corner up ahead where the purple lane dead-ended. . A bench or statue, maybe? It wouldn’t surprise her. The entire property seemed like a massive stroke to Rod’s ego.

  She took a few steps toward the dead-end, pausing to look over her shoulder.

  "How does he afford all of this?" Fraya asked. "His company must be doing incredibly well."

  "I don't know. I've heard rumors, but it's all speculation."

  Fraya kept quiet and waited for the magic of silence to take control. She'd found over the years most people weren't comfortable with silence and would spill their guts to fill it.

  "There's rumors that something is going on with his company. Some major investors have pulled out. Not sure how he's going to keep things afloat."

  "That's terrible," Fraya replied. Could money problems be an issue with Rod? But how would he benefit from Gamilla being gone? And what about Cam? Did he overreact out of jealousy or did he just miss his best friend?

  "So many questions," she said without thinking.

  "Questions about what?"

  She'd stopped paying attention to his words. Something was off at the end of the path in front of them, near the boxy shrub that looked almost like a seat.

  "You mean to go this way," Keith pointed. She raised up one finger and curiously looked at the thing, peeking out from the side. There hadn't been any other things out of place during the maze walk and this oddity made her curious. The closer she got, the more realized she was looking at the bottom of a very sensible flat sandal.

  "Hey! Are you alright?" She ran toward the foot that wasn't moving. She could hear Keith's steps falling behind her. Things were all too familiar the closer she got to the person. She saw the hand around the neck. She checked her pulse. Keith called an ambulance and Rod's phone. This time she recognized the face.

  Liz had come to a tragic end.

  "WE'RE MEETING LIKE this far too often."

  "I'd rather see you at the grocery store or something. I'll be happy if we never meet like this again, Keola, no offense," Fraya said.

  "None taken, Fraya."

  It was sad she was on first-name basis with the EMT, because of her proximity to murders. He'd gotten her the blanket when she'd found Gamilla. This time he'd offered her coffee, but she’d turned it down. Her nerves were already dancing on edge. She didn't need anything to make her even jitterier.

  Keola patted her shoulder and then walked off to assist someone else. She had seen the host go into the house with Ayden, who’d looked angrily at her, like she’d planned this. How much longer would he be there and would they need to stay? She looked out at the crowd. Who was the killer amongst them? The only person she could really trust was Keith. But even he hadn't been around her the entire time. A chill ran down her spine. How could this have happened with so many people milling around? Granted, the place wasn't well-lit and the corner where Liz had been found was particularly dark. No one would've known if they hadn’t stumbled upon her.

  Why Liz? Sure, she was abrasive as all get out, but she had probably been annoying longer than just tonight. What did her and Gamilla have in common that she was alluding to earlier? Fraya was running down so many questions, but was she asking the right ones?

  "How are you doing?" Keith asked, handing her a bottle of sweet tea. She shrugged and mumbled a thank you. She definitely didn't want to drink anything from an open container from that house. Especially since it looked like Liz had been—

  "Poisoned." Keith shook his head. "I can't believe they think she was poisoned."

  He settled down beside Fraya on a wrought-iron bench. It matched everything else with the ivy woven around the arms and legs. But now the atmosphere seemed much less whimsical and much more sinister.

  Meeting Ke
ith’s eyes, Fraya searched his face. "Do you think this had anything to do with Gamilla?"

  "How about you let us be the judge of that?" Ayden said, coming up from her blind spot. She squeaked and pressed her hand to her racing heart. Why would he ambush somebody on a crime scene? Thank goodness she’d put the cap back on her drink.

  "How about you say that to everyone who's speculating the same thing? It's natural to have questions," Keith said, leaning toward Fraya to lend her support if she needed it.

  "But Miss Fraya's questions leads her to actually trying to find answers. And that is a dangerous place to be, Mr. Eh...Keith," the detective said. "I'll be speaking with you both soon. Hang tight." He walked away and Fraya immediately started speculating.

  "It's awfully suspicious that these two women who were in the same competition that has a huge bag attached to it are now dead. The chance for them to live the rest of their lives...gone.”

  Fraya's eyes burned with tears. She swallowed a few times, trying to suppress her feelings. She hadn't been friends with either woman, but they'd both been snuffed out during the prime of their lives. Such a tragic waste. And for what?

  "I agree with the detective on one point, Fraya. You seem too involved in all of this."

  "Too involved? Gamilla practically died in my arms."

  "Yes, she did and it's horrible. Maybe you should even think about therapy. And then you could work on your other issues that you're avoiding by concentrating so much on her murder."

  And just that quick, Fraya was boiling mad. Her anger made her mute. Her lips thinned to the point of disappearing. And she chose to listen to the sound of her heartbeat, rather than concentrate on anything else that he had to say.

  Who did he think he was, coming at her like that? Issues? Oh, she was the only person in the world with problems. Just her, huh? Oh, okay, that was good to know.

  "Fraya, are you listening?"

  The look she cut him with should've sliced him in half. His eyes widened and he leaned away from her. She had patented that look in grade school when she would get teased for having different hair than everybody else. Her mama had taught her not to use her fists, but to use her eyes to tell how she felt.