by Teagan Kade
Time to find out who you are.
I watch the guy leave. He walks out in the direction of the pub, hands stuffed into a puffy jacket, little clouds of ivory jetting out from his face.
I wait until he’s long gone before making my way over to the door. I double-check there’s no one else around before pulling out my lock-picking kit and getting to work. Funnily enough, it feels good, probably the only decent thing I learned on the job back home before it all turned to shit. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to put these skills to use.
The door clicks open and I press in, closing it softly behind me and tucking my kit away. I take out a flashlight and switch it on, scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. The guy might look like a master criminal, but he’s a fucking neat one. There’s a single suitcase, clothes stacked by color. Jesus.
I hunt through it, check the linings. It’s clean.
I check the bed, the drawers and dresser, even the fridge, but nothing stands out. Maybe I was wrong.
I finally strike gold when I open the cupboard. I hold the flashlight between my teeth and reach up to pull the bag down onto the floor. There’s a digital camera inside with a big, fuck-off telephoto lens, binoculars…
I pick up the camera with my gloved hands and switch it on, scanning through the photos expecting to find shots of the boys and I, but we don’t feature in a single one.
What the fuck?
I scroll through the entire card, but they’re all the same.
They’re all of Lux.
*
When I get back Lux is sitting up on the veranda, her feet perched on the railing and a glass of water cradled in her hands. I’m conscious of the gun stuffed down my pants—the one that shoots real bullets, that is.
I climb the stairs. “You know, we’ve got harder stuff than water in there.”
She holds the glass up to the moonlight. “Makes a nice change, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
I go to lean against the railing before I remember the gun.
“So,” she says, putting her feet down and rocking forward, “you going to try and kill me again tomorrow?”
Suck it up. “Look, I’m sorry if I was too extreme, but…”
She puts her hand up. “I know. I know, and like I said, I get it, I do, but do you think maybe we could go a teensy, weensy bit easier?”
I nod. “Why don’t we skip training altogether tomorrow, take a break.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Through the window I see Bo and Razor standing in the kitchen making some kind of signal. Fuckers. I ignore them. “We’ll take the boat out. See if we can catch anything.”
“You still haven’t told me what kind of boat it is.”
I laugh. “It’s hardly the QE2, but it does the job. What do you say?”
I see the two of them now. Bo’s bent over and Razor’s got hold the back of his shirt, thrusting his pelvis forward like they’re fucking. Razor pretends he’s spanking Bo, mouthing ‘Fuck yeah, Deacon, give it to me!’ Again, I ignore them.
Lux looks down at the glass. “Sure, but I warn you, I’m no good at fishing.”
“Did I say I was?”
Razor’s on his knees now pretending to suck Bo’s cock, Bo stroking forward with a hand whipping in the air and a pouty look on his face I never want to see again. Fucking nightmare material. I give them the bird.
Lux jumps up and looks through the window just as Razor gets to his feet, the two of them turning their backs and walking slowly away, hands running through their hair like nothing happened at all.
Lux shakes her head, laughing. “They’re really something, aren’t they?”
“You can say that again. Six sharp in the morning. See you then?”
“See you then,” she repeats, her eyes a little brighter than usual.
When I hear her door close, I pull the boys out to the veranda. I know they’re curious about my little expedition.
Razor pulls me close, checking around the corner to make sure no-one is overhearing. “So, what did you find at the prick’s place?”
I cross my arms, lean against the wall. “Not what I expected, that’s for sure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bo asks.
“The guy’s not watching us. He’s watching her.”
“Lux?”
I nod.
Razor checks the corner again, lowering his voice further. “Fuck, why? That can’t be good, can it? An ex maybe?”
“He doesn’t seem like her type.”
“How do you know? Three weeks and you’re an expert on her?
“There’s more,” I add.
Bo rolls his hand. “Go on.”
“I checked his car, too.” I take a breath. “There was stuff under the spare wheel well. No ID anywhere, though.”
“Stuff?” questions Bo.
“Cable ties, duct tape, a revolver and, wait for it, a fucking shovel.”
Razor shakes his head. “Holy shit. What are we going to do about him? If he’s here to kill her, take her… whatever, we need to stop him, right?”
I don’t answer. Truthfully, I don’t know what to do only that something does have to be done.
“Ask her,” continues Razor.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Why not? Maybe there’s a good explanation.”
I highly doubt that. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think fast.”
“In the meantime, one of us is watching her at all times. Got it?”
Razor smiles. “Now that’s what I call an easy gig.”
I look to Bo. “Use the public payphone down the road and call you-know-who. Have him run the guy’s plates.”
Bo nods. “Will do, but you sure it’s enough? I say we go over and fuck him up.”
“No,” I reply, “we’ve been drawing enough attention as it is, and that’s a feat in a town this small. No, for now we lay low and we watch.”
*
I bump the throttle up a little once we’re out on the open water, Lux is at the front of the boat gripping the sides. The ‘tin man’, as we call it, only fits three or four. Even with Lux and I the poor five horse-power outboard motor is struggling, wheezing and whining as we crest over the top of a wave and collide into the bottom of the next.
It’s a great day to be out. The water’s a little choppy, but the sky is blue and the clouds cotton, the recent depression having moved on.
“We’re almost there,” I shout over the motor.
I turn us towards a small cove around the main cliff line sheltered from the worst of the swell that comes up from the south.
Once we’re in the cove, I cut the throttle and let us drift, dropping anchor when I’m satisfied we’re far away enough from the rocky walls that enclose us.
Lux looks around. “Wow, it’s like some kind of natural cathedral in here.”
I glance up into the sun, the chalky face of the cliffs rising a couple of hundred feet or more to wind-pruned coastal heathlands. In many ways it’s the kind of landscape that reminds me of Big Sur, of the Californian coastline we used to cruise. There are no tourists here, though, no sign of life apart from the odd eagle or seagull soaring above, a seal or whale swimming by.
I pull a tackle box from under the back seat and take out two hand lines, attaching hooks and bait before passing one to Lux. She holds it looking skeptical.
I throw my line over the side, let it reel out. “As far as I know, you just toss it over the side.”
The confusion deepens. “The whole thing?”
I laugh, the boat rocking. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, were you?”
She watches me and lets her line drop into the ocean. “I went out a couple of times with Dad when I was younger, but that seems like forever ago now.”
“What does your dad do? Does he know you’re over here trying to get yourself killed?”
Her face slackens. “He passed, two months ago
.”
Good one. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. He died doing what he loved.”
“He was a surfer?”
“One of the best. He was the one who told me about this place, said I had to come here and see it for myself. I don’t know. I just felt compelled to do it.”
“You can catch far more sane waves anywhere in the world, you know. Shipstern? It’s a monster.”
“I’m doing it for him, and myself, I guess. I quit my job, too, told my boss to go fuck himself after he turned down my leave.”
“Sounds like a prick.”
“You could say that.”
I test the line, but there are no bites yet. “What did you do back home?”
“I’m a cop.”
She says it so nonchalantly I almost fall out of the fucking boat. “A cop? Jesus.”
All sorts of conspiracy theories run through my head, but I tamp them down. Keep it together. “You worked LA?”
She shakes her head. “No, further west, but that didn’t make it any less stressful—domestics every day of the week, drug abuse, guys either trying to grab my ass or kick it. It really starts to do your head in after a while.”
I nod. “I bet. You’ll go back to the force when you get home?”
She shrugs, the way the light catches her hair makes her look impossibly cute. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll stay with you guys forever.”
Imagine that.
“You catch much out here?” she continues.
I lean back laughing. “We’ve been in Finke for almost a year fishing every week and I think our biggest catch was a boot.”
She smiles. “Really?”
“I’ve seen the locals come back with armfuls of fish. I mean, yes, I’m exaggerating. We caught a bass once, couple of trevally. The boys dive, sometimes manage to snap a lobster or two, but generally we’re fucking terrible fisherman. I don’t even know why we do it. It breaks up the monotony, I guess.”
Her line starts to twitch. “Hey, something’s going on.”
I reach across and tug. Fuck me. She’s on.
I look down into the water, see the telltale flash of a fish. “You’ve got something. Start winding it up.”
She starts to reel it back in, the fish getting closer, and bigger, the more it heads towards the surface.
She’s struggling. “Damn. It’s heavy.”
I lean across and hold the reel with her, help her bring it in. Our faces are right next to each other, her eyes on mine, our bodies close and the heat gathering between them a physical force. I want desperately to kiss her, feel the warmth of her mouth and lips juxtaposed against the cold around us, but the fish breaks the surface, flips right into the boat and the moment is lost.
Lux jumps back to the front of the boat screaming while I try to grab it. It’s a slippery fucker, silver, has to be at least fifteen inches long.
I finally manage to get the hook out while she squeals and laughs. “Quick, take a picture.”
I get hold of it and begin to twist the hook out. “Don’t have a cell.”
I pull out the ice box and kick open the lid, toss the fish inside and slam it closed, sitting on top to stop it getting away.
“You don’t have a cell?”
I shake my head. “Don’t need one.”
“The internet?”
“Don’t need that either.”
“Everyone needs the internet,” she scoffs. “It’s a basic human right, you know. I mean, Christ, my ninety-nine-year-old neighbor back home has it. You boys really are living off the grid.”
The fish is kicking up against the lid of the ice box under my butt. “Best way to be. No distractions, no newsfeed that does nothing but make you depressed the more you look at it. No, thanks.”
“But you’ve got plenty of porn.”
“Talbot’s got a news agency, a video store. Besides, it’s all Bo’s.” I lie.
Lux really laughs now. “A video store? Must be the last one on earth.”
“Things are different around here, simple.”
I notice her pupils are dilated, wide and open. “You don’t seem so simple to me.”
I shove the ice box back under the seat with one hand, use the other to hold the lid closed. “Can’t believe you caught something on your first trip out, and Moby Dick at that. The boys are going to be jealous.”
“Of the fish or the fact you’re spending time with me?” She’s smiling as she says it and I don’t quite know how to read it. Is she coming onto me?
Don’t let her.
I pull the starter, the outboard chugging to life. “Let’s get home. As they say, fresh is best.”
She salutes. “Aye, aye, captain.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUX
To borrow a phrase from Colonel Sanders, the fish is finger-lickin’ good. Company’s not so bad either, I think, looking around the table. I’ve definitely seen Bo checking me out more than once around the place. Razor doesn’t seem so concerned, and Deacon? Hard to tell. He keeps his cards very close to that marble chest of his.
Bo places his knife and fork down, not a crumb left on his plate. He rubs his belly. “You ready to hit the water again, Lux?”
I look across the table. “I don’t know. It’s up to Deacon.”
Deacon glances up from his plate. “I think so. We’ll hit up Little Stern tomorrow, see if you’ve learned anything over the last two weeks.”
I’m trying to hide my smile, cutting another piece of fish. “Sounds good.”
Bo sniggers. “Cute. You know, you don’t have to do what he says. We’re not keeping you here against your will.”
“I know,” I reply, “but I suppose saving my life should give him some say over how I live it. Besides, I’d hate for him to have to kiss me again.”
Lux, you flirty biatch, you.
I see the briefest hint of a smile play out on Deacon’s face. The cards are coming out. Question is, what’s he going to do about it?
*
Little Stern is significantly more sheltered than the Bluff, not catching the full brunt of the swell. Still, clean barrels roll in out near the reef today.
I stand next to Deacon on the beach. There’s a certain way he looks at the ocean. I’ve come to know it well. There’s sadness in it, something lost. I can’t place my finger on it, but he looks at the water like a lover who’s slipped away, a memory.
“Deacon?”
He snaps out of it, pointing. “I know we call it ‘little’, but it can get pretty big out there. As you know, it’s not as mutant as the Bluff, but the water’s just as shallow near the reef and it will still fuck you up if you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s sizeable today, certainly bigger than last time. I mean, I’m no fucking doctor but so much time in the water after…” he doesn’t want to say it. “It just doesn’t strike me as responsible parenting.”
I pluck my board out of the sand. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dad, but I’m going in, like it or not.”
I start to run down to the water and he’s got no choice but to run behind me.
The sky’s clear, but the water’s freezing. You never notice it in a full steamer wetsuit until it finds its way down the back of your neck, flooding your suit from the inside. It’s almost nice in a way, a kind of oceanic orgasm. Nothing, however, beats being locked in a barrel, a roof of water over your head, the rest rushing past in an aquamarine wall. It’s incredible. It’s why I do this.
Still, I am nervous getting out, duck-diving under a solid eight-footer, the reef and its sharp bed of nails inches below. I’m breathing faster than normal, panting raggedly.
“You okay?” Deacon calls behind me.
I give him a thumbs-up and press through another wave, emerging out of the impact zone.
Deacon paddles up beside me, pressing up into a sitting position on his board. “The next set’s coming. You good to go?”
I turn and start to paddle, keeping an eye on the approaching set. “Never been
better.”
Like the Bluff, the waves kick up hard and fast, a hollow face that sucks everything out from below you.
My drop-in is terrible, I barely manage to cut in, but before I know it I’m on my feet again and pulling into the barrel. I raise my hand and let the water cascade through my fingers.
Better than sex.
With Deacon? You sure? Why don’t you ask him and find out?
This internal dialogue plays out as I’m spit from the tube, riding the wash to the side, Deacon clapping above his head as I paddle back to him.
I’m panting hard, breathless, but I’m smiling like I won the Lotto and a dinner date with the Hemsworth brothers.
Deacon is cuter.
I can’t seem to shut my head up.
Come on, brain. Quiet time.
Deacon’s dynamite out of the water, yes, but in his natural element here he’s close to irresistible, a fantasy come to life. He combs his hair with his fingers, watching the horizon, always watching. “Ready for another?”
I turn and paddle. “Bring it on.”
I’m just about to pick up the pace when he calls “Wait.”
I let the wave roll past, turning back. “What is it?”
He points into the distance. “There. Can you see it?”
I squint against the sun, and then I do see it—a fin cutting through the water.
I tense up. “Shit, is that a shark?”
My instinct is to turn and get the fuck out of here, but Deacon grips my arm. “It’s only a juvenile rounding up a swarm of baitfish. See the birds?”
I almost can’t see them, but he’s right, white gulls swooping from the sky to peck at the water.
“Are we safe?” I’ve never seen a shark in the water before—crazy as that sounds given the places I’ve surfed.
“For now, but let’s head in before Mom and Dad arrive.”
We turn and catch the next wave together, Deacon taking it low and pulling out early, both of us riding the whitewash back to the shallow waters before the sand bar.
Safely back on the beach, I collapse onto the sand. “I can’t believe there was a shark in the water right now.”
Deacon sits beside me, mouth open and chest billowing in and out. “You do see them from time to time. There’s a great white nursery not far from the Bluff.”