by Alia Hess
“It’s Corvin. Do I know you, or does my reputation precede me?”
The Islander chuckled and tucked a lock of black hair behind his ear. “Reputation, I suppose. Everyone loves your clothes, brother. I’m sure we met at Sasha’s wedding too.” He elbowed Sasha. “How are things? I never see you around town. Too busy with your new wife to leave the house?”
Sasha frowned. The whole point of this trip to Pearlolla was to stop thinking about Dusty. “I am sorry, what is your name? I don’t remember you from my wedding. You live on Nis?”
“Yeah! It’s Rocksalt. And I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. Most of the island was there and you were too busy staring at your beautiful bride the whole time to notice anyone else.”
Sasha bit his lip, picturing Dusty, her hair curled into ringlets and a crown of seashells wreathing her head. “Yes. That is true.”
“Kinda funny I happened to see you guys here on Pearlolla.” Rocksalt took in the boutique, then leaned toward Corvin and lowered his voice. “What are you doing in this place, anyway? You going to give the guy behind the counter some sewing pointers so he can fix these rags?”
Corvin huffed. “If I did that, we’d be here all evening.”
“Well, why don’t you come to a party with me on Tam, instead? I’m heading there now. My friend makes the most amazing fruit cocktails.”
“Oh. That sounds delightful.” Corvin looked at Sasha. “We’ve never been to Tam.”
Sasha brightened. “Yes! Great. We are looking for something to do.” He paused, his mouth pulling to one side. “But I don’t know if party is good idea for me. I don’t drink anymore. I am too much troublemaker when I am drunk. I turn into real asshole.”
The Islander shrugged. “Yes, I know, but—”
“How you know?” This guy sure knows a lot about me.
“How do I know what? That you don’t drink? Same reason I know that Whitespring and his son aren’t speaking, that Kittenpaw is allergic to mushrooms, and that Corvin here has expensive wine and pomade shipped in from the Mainland. You live on Nis, brother. Nothing there is a secret.”
Corvin arched an eyebrow. “I feel a little violated.”
“You shouldn’t. That’s just the way it is there. Go back to Nis and ask somebody about the dirt on me. They’ll know it, I’m sure. Anyway, you guys wanna come or not? The smoothies are pretty delicious even without moonshine. And my friend always has a ton of food.”
“What do you think? I’m game,” Corvin said.
Sasha stuffed his hands in his pockets. I’m ready for some fun. Eating street food and looking at clothes isn’t my idea of a good time. But I can’t have too good of a time, or it will end up with me being slapped, punched, or waking up with no memory of how I got there. I’ve been sober for nearly a year. I can’t blow it.
“If we go, do you promise to keep me away from moonshine?” Sasha asked.
“Of course! I won’t let you down.”
Sasha stared at Corvin’s eager face. I can have sober fun. I think. What’s fun when you’re sober? Cards? Dancing? Whatever is at the party will be fine, because Corvin will be there, and we always have a good time. This will get some of this frustration out of my system. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Rocksalt grinned, baring his sharp teeth. “Alright. Cool.”
They followed him to the beach and a congested dock. Many boats filled the water and garbage-strewn sand. Fading light danced on the water like ribbons in the breeze. Rocksalt pulled a small boat with flaking red paint down the strand. A motor of questionable quality hung from the back, affixed with rope.
Sasha stared out at the sun-glazed turquoise ocean. His cobalt wedding suit had been so hot and stuffy as he stood on the beach, the water to his back, waiting for Dusty to emerge from Corvin’s house and make her way to his side. He had stared at her the entire time. Not just during the ceremony, but the reception too. Even eating pizza—something he hadn’t done since moving from Russia four years previous—couldn’t get his eyes and mind off of his new wife.
“Maybe this is not good idea.”
Corvin popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I feel kind of bad now, I guess. I really wanted to get away from Dusty for little bit, but that guy talking about my wedding remind me how much I love her. Maybe I should just go back home and try to fix things.”
“You can’t be with someone twenty-four seven. You shouldn’t. If Dewbell and I tried to do that, we’d drive each other crazy. I think that’s what’s happening to you two. You need this time away, and I’m sure Dusty appreciates an evening away from you too.”
“Yeah, she get really sick of me being slob. She will be happy to relax in bed without have to wipe my crumbs off sheets first.”
Corvin squinted. “Remind me why we’re friends, again?”
Rocksalt beckoned to them, and Sasha’s mouth pulled tight. Tam wasn’t really that far away, and if the party turned out to be too much of a temptation to drink, they had money to pay someone to take them back to Pearlolla, or straight home to Nis. Besides, if anyone should be worried, it should be the partygoers. There might not be any food left after Corvin got his fill.
Sasha marched toward the boat, his rope sandals sinking into the sand. He veered around ancient plastic bottles, rusty cans, and bits of plastic cording.
“Hop in, guys.” Rocksalt nosed the boat into the water, then patted the splintery wooden side.
Sasha climbed in after Corvin, swaying with the movement of the boat. Rocksalt splashed into the surf, shoving their vessel ahead, then jumped in. He jerked on the motor’s pull and it sputtered to life, emitting a whining purr and launching the boat toward the horizon.
Cold ocean spray misted Sasha’s face as the beach shrank into miniature, the skyline eventually swallowing it.
Corvin smiled, chewing gum with his mouth open, his long legs drawn close to his chest on the low seat. “You know, I just realized I’m always the one hosting parties and never attending them. It’s going to be interesting to be on the other end of that—not having to worry about the food or drinks or whether my guests are having a good time.”
Rocksalt turned the motor slightly. “To be honest, parties on Tam are not as fun as parties on Pearlolla. Pearlollans like to get pretty crazy and there are always tons of people and live music. My Tamian friend is more laid-back. This is more of a secluded backyard thing.”
“That is okay. I don’t do crazy anymore.” Sasha sighed. “I am become so boring. Is that what happens to guys when they get married? They get fat and old and boring?”
Corvin chuckled. “You’ve only been married for three months, Sasha. Hardly enough time for that.”
“Yeah, but I came to America in first place to be adventurer. I was for while, but not one time since moving to Islands have I stolen truck, been attacked by weird animals, shot highwaymen, slept in abandoned building, or got broken nose.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Wow, the Mainland is something else, huh?” Rocksalt wiped seaspray from his face. “The Islands must seem like a paradise. Remind me, how long have you lived on Nis?”
“Almost year.”
“You know, Nis used to be the most judgmental, xenophobic island of them all—even to those of us native to the island. They’ve loosened up a lot. Not to the extent of Pearlolla, but closer.”
Sasha nudged Corvin. “You remember when his sister, Owl, move there? She say nobody like her at first, but she is so nice everybody change their mind about Mainlanders.”
“Oh. Um, Owl… Yeah, of course I remember,” Rocksalt said.
Do you? From what Sasha had heard, Owl showing up had been the biggest sensation in years. Not only was she a Mainlander, but she arrived with Trav, who’d been exiled for being albino. And on an island of a hundred people, where gossip was king, Rocksalt had to fish through his memory for who she was?
“Nis is certainly different now,” Rocksalt c
ontinued. “Tam’s Elder, Palesun, is very welcoming too. All of Tam, really. They love having Mainlanders visit.”
“Really?” Corvin asked. “I was under the impression Tamians like to keep to themselves. Do a lot of Mainlanders visit the island?”
“Uh…” Rocksalt shifted and looked away. “Not really.” He gave them a tight smile. “I just mean, y’know, in general, Tam is welcoming. Which is why it’s great that you’re coming to this party!”
Sasha frowned, the itch of unease growing in his chest.
A dark shape, silhouetted against the evening sky, rose from the sea in the distance, taking on more details as they sped near. Tall craggy cliffs encrusted with vegetation gave way to narrow beaches of pale yellow sand. Boats floated in the water around a long warped dock.
“So, this is Tam, huh? Where is volcano?” Sasha asked.
Rocksalt aimed the boat for the beach. “It’s hard to spot from here. Not as tall as Thunderclap or Foxtail. It hasn’t erupted in a hundred years.”
He shut off the motor and hopped from the boat as they neared the shore, pulling it into the sand. Sasha and Corvin climbed out. A long wooden walkway wrapped around the cliff’s side, heading toward a cluster of buildings nested between the trees of a heavily-forested hill.
Sasha wiggled his toes, grains of wet sand stuck between, glanced back at the endless expanse of glassy green waves, then followed Rocksalt and Corvin up the walkway and into the trees.
Corvin perked up. “I do believe I hear music. You up for some dancing?”
Sasha gave Corvin a sly glance and wagged a finger at him. “Okay, but on slow song you keep hands on my waist, big boy. Got it? Grab my ass and dance is over.”
Corvin held Sasha’s gaze long enough for him to grow uncomfortable, then he chuckled. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”
Maybe I shouldn’t make jokes like that. He isn’t as sensitive as he used to be, but I still never know what might offend him. He’s a hard man to figure out, and it’s not like he’ll let me ask him personal questions. But he ended up fitting in pretty well with our little band of misfits.
Corvin carefully polished a shell button on his cuff and glided his hand along the delicate yellow-green fronds of a bush growing beside the path.
“Here we are!” Rocksalt pointed to a small house surrounded by palm trees and tall shrubs. Red flowers bloomed around the entrance and a high fence wrapped the side. He pushed open the gate. “Hey, I need to give my friend a heads up that you guys are here.”
Sasha frowned and shuffled his feet. Corvin leaned on the gate, chewing his gum and looking into the trees.
Indistinct conversation drifted from the backyard, then laughter.
Sasha tried to peek around the side of the house, but the foliage obscured his view. Dusty doesn’t say much about my sobriety, but I know she’s proud of me. Everyone is. “I think this is bad idea.”
Corvin looked at him. “You still worried you’re going to drink? I’ll look out for you.”
“I don’t know. Just getting bad feeling. And… I used to go to parties like this all the time. Hang out with random people, get shit-faced drunk, and then wake up with black eye and no money. I can’t let something happen like this again. I am not same person.”
“None of that is going to happen. If you’re tempted, or they pressure you, we’ll leave. No problem!” Corvin grinned. “I’ll be your voice of reason should you start to lose your conviction.”
Sasha chuckled. Corvin as the voice of reason. “Okay. But you don’t think something is weird? Rocksalt acts like he’s our friend, but I feel like I never met him before. Like maybe he don’t even live on Nis.”
Corvin shrugged. “Yeah, and I think he was lying when he said he didn’t remember my first name. That used to happen to me in Hammerlink all the time. Some guy ‘accidentally’ runs into me somewhere, pretends he can’t remember my name, but wants to be my buddy. Usually in the hopes that I’ll buy him lunch or get him into some secret nightclub. It used to annoy me, but I don’t mind right now. This time it got us invited to a party, instead of the reverse.”
“But this is not Hammerlink.” It wasn’t exactly surprising Corvin was making this about himself, but was the urge to be chummy with a rich guy a common desire, even here in this North Pacific microcosm?
Rocksalt pushed through the gate along with a tall man sporting multiple braids. He proffered his hand and gave them a smile a bit too big for his face. “I’m Clearwater. Nice to meet you.”
Corvin shook hands with the man and followed him into the backyard. Sasha paused, looked over his shoulder at the little wedge of ocean in the distance, then passed the gate. Torches ringed the grassy yard and several roughly-hewn tables occupied the center. Colorful paper flag buntings hung across the area, tied around tree trunks. Islanders sat in groups, conversing and drinking. A small buffet lined one table and Corvin made a beeline for it, scooping up a plate and piling on food.
Clearwater raised his eyebrows. “Your friend must be hungry.”
“He likes food.”
“You want a drink?”
Sasha glanced at the blue, chipped glass in Clearwater’s hand, a ring of pineapple floating inside. He inhaled the sharp edge of moonshine and bit his lip. “Can’t. I don’t drink.”
“Yes, I know. I meant a smoothie.”
“Oh. Sure. No moonshine.”
Clearwater walked to the open door of the house, then paused and looked back. “You got it, trashbilly.”
Sasha’s mouth parted, his brows pushed together. Didn’t these guys say they were welcoming of Mainlanders? If they were trying to be kiss-asses, they were doing a bad job.
He sidled up to Corvin, who was still selecting things from the buffet. His little plate sagged under the weight of all the food.
“Did you hear that guy? He called me trashbilly.”
“Maybe he doesn’t realize it’s a slur.”
“How could he not know that? I don’t go ‘round here calling all this guys”—Sasha whispered—“‘coconuts.’”
“That’s good because that would be a sure way to get us kicked out of here, and I haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“I am having bad feeling about these guys.”
“They seem pretty nice to me. I bet you just feel guilty for being at a party where there’s alcohol, even though you’re not drinking it. You feel like you’re doing something wrong?”
He didn’t feel guilty—he just didn’t feel like he belonged here. Despite being quite comfortable around the villagers on Nis, something was off about Rocksalt and his friends. They all wore the same fake smiles Corvin used when he was angry, and Rocksalt didn’t make eye contact when asked questions.
Corvin took him by the arm. “C’mon. You’re fine. Let’s go sit down.”
They headed to a table occupied by several women in gauzy halter dresses. Corvin spit his gum into a wrapper and stabbed at the pile of grilled fish on his plate.
Sasha slid into a chair and smiled at the woman next to him. “Hey, baby. I am Sasha.”
The woman tugged on one of her large hoop earrings and smirked. “Hi, Sasha. Where are you from?”
“Nis.”
“No, I mean originally. What part of the Mainland?”
“Actually, I am from Russia. Is other country, far away from here. Across ocean.”
“I used to live in the East,” Corvin added with a mouthful of food. “Before that, near the Northwest Coast.”
The woman sipped her smoothie. “Are you two explorers, then? Adventurers that just go wherever?”
Sasha shook his head. “Not anymore. Used to be, but this is better. Get to relax and live island life.”
Corvin shoveled a forkful of vegetables into his mouth. “I thought you missed stealing trucks and getting a broken nose.”
“Not really. Not as exciting here, but it is better for family life.”
“You married, then?” the woman asked.
He slumped down in his ch
air. “Yes. Three months.” And making a mess of it.
“Too bad. I like your cute blue eyes.” She poked Sasha in the nose.
If I were old me, right now is when I’d break out a pick-up line. I’d order her another drink, sit a little closer, and see where things went. Sasha inhaled the bite of moonshine from the women’s drinks. Some had slopped onto the table, mingling with the aroma of old wood.
Could he have just one drink? Just to ease his tension and dampen his relationship worries?
I can’t have just one. That’s the problem. Even if I weren’t married, and we were in some Mainland bar, I’d get in trouble. I’d get five or six drinks in, trying my best not to fall off my bar stool. Maybe I’d take her home, and maybe we’d have sex. Or—more likely—I’d pass out before anything even happened, and I’d wake up with a killer hangover. I can’t believe I thought I was having fun back then.
Sasha leaned an elbow on the back of his chair. He wasn’t his old self anymore, and he didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. “I am big flirt, married or no. So look out.”
The woman grinned as Clearwater returned with a large smoothie in each hand. He set the glasses in front of them. “Two virgin drinks for our trashbilly friends.”
“Hey, don’t call me trashbilly. I am not virgin, either.” Sasha winked at the woman.
Clearwater laughed. “I don’t mean anything by it, brother. Drink up.”
Sasha sipped the sweet pink slush in his glass. No moonshine. He smiled and took another sip, then stood. “Going to get me some food before Corvin eat it all.”
He strolled to the buffet, scooping up sliced fruit, barbequed meat, shrimp, and green beans. The woman at their table seemed genuinely friendly. Around him, people whispered bits of gossip and talked about their kids. Rocksalt was nowhere to be seen. Was he worried for nothing?
As Sasha turned from the food spread, vertigo gripped him and he nearly dropped his plate. He leaned against the table, holding his head, and blinked, expecting black motes to crowd his vision.
But that doesn’t happen anymore—I no longer have a weak heart. Unless my implant is failing?