by Teagan Kade
“Baby sharks?”
He laughs, short. “Nothing ‘baby’ about a great white. I can take you there if you like.”
“To the shark preschool? Nope, Nope, and one extra serving for good measure.”
“You’re scared of sharks?”
I am, but I don’t want to let it on. “Who isn’t?”
“Can you scuba dive?”
I nod.
“It’s a date then. We’ll head out when there’s a bit more moonlight. They’re majestic creatures, really. When you see them up close, the power and way they move through the water… It’s changes your perspective.”
“You sound like you admire them.”
“I think a hunter appreciates a fellow hunter when he sees one.”
“And what are you a hunter of?”
He turns to me, eyes bottle green and gleaming. “Pleasure. What else?”
*
Freshly showered, I come out of my room to find the boys gearing up to go out.
Bo grabs his board off the wall. “We’re heading out for a sunset surf. You in, Hollywood?”
“I’ll think I’ll sit this one out.”
Bo looks to Razor. “Deacon really must be working you hard.”
Deacon pushes him towards the door. “Come on, you idiot.”
I point to the phone on the wall. “Say, can I use the landline?”
The three of them exchange a look.
“Who do you want to call?” Deacon asks.
“A friend back home. Let him know I’m okay.”
“A lover?” Razor sniggers.
“A work colleague,” I correct, watching Deacon.
He picks up his board. “Sure. It’s down the back.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
The three of them head out and I grab my cell from my bag looking for the number.
I should have done this sooner. Perhaps I shouldn’t be doing it at all, but I can’t stop the curiosity now. It demands answers.
The phone is one of those old rotary units. It takes me almost a minute to dial, the ringtone going on and on and on.
“Howdy ho.”
There’s a little static on the line, but Jason’s signature Southpark drawl comes through all the same.
“Howdy, partner.”
He seems surprised. “Lux Louise Jackson? That really you?”
God, it’s good to hear a familiar voice. “The one and only.”
“Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call this the most happening place in the world, but the surf is killer and,” I spot the brothers out the window, Deacon in the middle, “the scenery ain’t bad.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I was a little concerned when you up and vanished.”
“How’s everything over your end? The captain still up your ass about that bust?”
Laughter. “The captain’s always up my ass. The guy loves misery, what can I say? In fact, the whole precinct is copping it. You got out at the right time. You’re a bit of a hero, you know.”
“For standing up to him?”
“You’ve got the badge of honor of the being the only person I’ve actually heard him call a cunt. I mean, he spelled it out, letter by letter. You really pissed him off. Jesus, the shit-storm that followed…”
I twist the phone line around my finger. “Hope I didn’t make life too hard for you guys.”
“Nah, shit’s shit, you know? What are you doing?”
“Bartending, surfing.”
“You could have done that here in California, you know.”
Jason’s always been a good listener. He’s not my type, but I’ve got a soft spot for him all the same. He’s had my back more than once. “After the thing with Dad I had to get away, plus I was sick of all the red tape and bullshit. You know how it is.”
“I do. I do. So, what are you really calling for? You finally want to cash in that dinner date?”
He knows me too well. “The date’s going to have to wait. I need you to run some names… if it’s not too much trouble.”
“For you, baby doll, anything. Hit me.”
“Three American males, brothers. Deacon, Bo and Razor Hunt. I haven’t seen any ID, but those are the names they use. They all lived in Newport at one stage as far as I can tell, both parents deceased.”
“Plates, phone numbers? You got anything else?”
“No, sorry. I just need to know who they are.”
The tone of his voice changes to concern. “Are you in trouble, because just say the word, I’ll—”
“No, I’m fine. You’ll do it?”
“Call me back in a day or two. I’ll see what we have.”
“You’re the best, Jace.”
“Don’t I know it,” he laughs. “You take care.”
“You too.”
The line goes dead and I’m filled with a sudden emptiness. I really am alone here on the other side of the world.
Out the window the three boys are disappearing up the road, pushing and shoving one another as brothers do. Sure doesn’t look like you’re alone.
But can I really trust these guys? Everything in my gut tells me they are bad news, the kind of guys with histories and records and a rap sheet a mile long. I’ve been dealing with their kind day to day for almost three years now. I should know a criminal when I see one.
I’m relaxing on the lounge when the three of them arrive home.
Deacon’s the first inside, pausing the place his board on the wall. I take in his body, the way it’s pressing out that wetsuit, the defined bulge at the crotch. Who knew neoprene could look so hot?
“Everything alright?” he says.
I put on a smile. “Yeah, great.”
Razor barges in, pushing Deacon out of the way heading fast for the fridge. “A close-out fest. Fun, but I’ll be feeling it in the morning.”
I notice Deacon’s arm. “You cut yourself.”
He holds his arm, noting the blood. “Bailed into the reef. It’s not the first time.”
I pull out a chair. “Sit down.”
“Why?”
“You’re not going to go walking around with an open wound like that. Where do you keep the first-aid kit?”
Bo jumps onto the sofa. “Pantry, top shelf.”
While I go to retrieve the kit, Deacon sits. “It’s been a while since I played doctors and nurses.”
I take the kit down. “I’ll throw in a prostate check if you like.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a little rear play.”
Bo leans against the fridge with a beer. “Fucking pervert.”
I apply iodine to a cotton ball. “This might sting a little.”
Deacon doesn’t even flinch. There’s probably a robot under that skin rather than a man. It would certainly explain a lot.
Robots don’t surf like that. They don’t touch themselves like that.
Wound cleaned, I wrap a bandage around his arm and secure it in place with a butterfly clip. “Done.”
He stands. “What do I owe you, doc?”
I think on it. “Dinner should suffice.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEACON
We watch Little Bluff from the safety of the beach post-surf. Lux has been improving in leaps and bounds, not a single wipeout today.
The weather’s getting somber again, a low cloud sweeping in from the west.
These quiet moments with her are becoming the highlight of my day. I’m falling back into old habits, flirting like I’m back at college. It’s fucking embarrassing.
You know you can’t.
Fuck it. So what if we hook up? What’s the worst that could happen?
You know full well. You want her blood on your hands too?
I push sand together between my legs. Even sitting beside her is too much to take, all super fucking sexy with her wet hair and fuck-me eyes. “We didn’t exactly fit the surfer stereotype back home.”
She raises an eyebrow. “No? You didn’t l
ive in a Kombi and sell dream catchers?”
“We lived in a fucking mansion in the Hills. I’m talking twenty rooms or more, full-time staff, a really cute Latina maid I had the hots for.”
“And what, you slummed it down by the beach for kicks?”
In a way, she’s right. “My parents wanted us to have a public education, so they sent us to some shithole by the ocean. Everyone there surfed. I didn’t care none of the other kids had two dimes to rub together. They were in the water day-in, day-out having fun, just living. It sucked me right in, all of us. Soon we were barely spending any time at home, always down by the beach, sleeping on the sand or in the back of a friend’s car, camping out on sofas. Good times.”
She brings her hair together in her hands, squeezing the water out over the sand. “What did your parents do?”
“Dad was a partner at a big law firm, about as far away from a surfer as you can get. He didn’t even know how to swim. They were together when their plane went down. I just hope they were gone before they hit the water.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
“But you have your brothers.”
I shake my head. “As you’ve witnessed, they drive me fucking insane, but they’re good guys at heart. Don’t let all the bravado and ink fool you. They’re pussycats, really.”
“And you? Are you a pussycat?”
The way she pronounces ‘pussy’ has my cock diamond hard. Wetsuits weren’t made with giant erections in mind. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
She lies back, hands behind her head, her breasts flattening out. “What’s the one thing you miss about the States?”
I laugh. “Not the crowded line-ups, that’s for sure. But I do miss Pink’s hot dogs. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they don’t really do hot dogs around here. I’m talking bacon, nacho cheese—the full heart attack.”
She turns her head sideways, eyes dropping and bobbing back up. “You’ve got a body like that and you’re thinking about scoffing down hot dogs?”
“Work hard, play hard.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Don’t you mean, play hard, play hard? Because I haven’t exactly seen much work going on.”
I flick sand at her. She yelps, shielding her face. “Like you can talk, Hollywood.”
“Hey, I’ve been working real hard at the pub. Those beers aren’t going to pour themselves, are they?”
“I went in one day and found one of the locals lying on the bar, his head under the tap. Sure took ‘self-service’ to a new level.”
“That’s nothing compared to what I saw at college.”
I pick up a handful of sand, let it run through my fingers. “Come on. What was it? Two girls getting together, some ‘free experimentation’? Ooh la la.”
She reaches over and punches me playfully in the shoulder. “You’re a real asshole, you know.”
I shrug. “You’re falling for it. Admit it.”
She looks to the ocean. “Maybe a little, but don’t think it, us, is going to happen, mister.”
I raise my hands. “No, ma’am.”
She nods at the tat on my arm peeking out from under the sleeve of my wetsuit. “Strange tattoo, that one. You a Black Flag fan or something?”
I lift my arm up to my face and stare at the black box covering up her name. “Just couldn’t bear to look at what was underneath anymore.”
She stands and brushes herself off, thankfully doesn’t persist about the tatt. “How about we swing by the supermarket? You still owe me a dinner, but what if I make hot dogs? They won’t be Pink’s, but they’ll be a start.”
There’s surely an excellent line here about slipping my sausage between her buns, but I hold my tongue. If you want this one, my friend, B game isn’t going to cut in. You’re going to have to pull out all the stops.
I look at the tat again. Maybe it is time to move on.
*
I always thought Bo and Razor could be competitive eaters in another life. I almost laughed aloud when Lux brought out their plates, a single hot dog on each. They inhaled them, plates raised for more.
“Six or seven each should do,” I tell her. “They’re growing lads, after all.”
Lux turns and heads back towards the kitchen. “Ooooh-kay.”
I pick up my hot dog and take a bite. Lux is right. It’s no Pink’s, but it’s great all the same, really reminds me of home, of everything we gave up.
Between mouthfuls, jaw working like a pit-bull, Bo manages to get out a sentence. “Hollywood learning anything out there besides what a giant cock you are?”
I look to the kitchen where Lux is busy preparing more dogs, not even the flickering lightbulb unflattering. “She is. She’s a quick learner.”
Bo takes a breath, hunting for his beer. “They say we might get a big swell through with this supposed low, biggest in years, maybe a decade”
I act nonchalant. “And?”
“Will she be up for it?”
I keep watching her. “Seems like she’s up for anything.”
Bo laughs. “I fucking bet. You tapping that yet?”
I look back to him, lowering my voice. “The only thing I’ll be tapping is your skull if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
Razor shakes his head. “This girl really means something to you, doesn’t she?”
“She’s just another girl,” I lie.
Bo starts sniffing the air, looking at Razor. “You smell that, bro?”
Razor gets in on the act. “Fuck me. Smells like bullshit, real nice and ripe-like.”
I throw a stack of napkins at them as they burst into laughter. “Fuck you and fuck you.”
Lux enters with dogs stacked high. “Did I miss something?”
I glare daggers at the boys.
Bo smiles. “Deacs was just giving us the low-down on your little surfing lessons.”
She sits, a single hot dog in front of her. “And?”
Razor leans back with a dog-who-got-the-bone smug. “He says you’re almost ready to hang with the cool kids.”
Lux looks to me. “Is that so?”
“If I didn’t know better,” Razor continues, “I’d think you’re a lesson away from him showing you his special move”.
She hasn’t caught on. “His special move?”
Razor can barely contain himself. “A little backdoor trick he’s perfected over the years, a secret way to get nice and deep in the barrel.”
She nods at me. “Sounds intriguing. I love spending time in the green room.”
“Don’t you mean the ‘pink room’?” Bo adds while I give him the ‘you’re fucking dead’ look.
They’re sniggering and cracking up, Lux somehow still clueless.
“Don’t listen to these two goat-boaters,” I tell her. “They’re posers of the highest order.”
“Posers,” Bo scoffs. “I’m out there more than any of you fools.”
“And why the fuck is that?” I ask.
He smiles, looking at Lux. “Because surfing is like sex, man. When it’s good, it’s really good. And when it’s bad… it’s still pretty good.”
“I mean, fuck, I’ll take a surfboard over a girl any day of the week,” adds Razor.
“Really?” says Lux.
Razor starts to count his fingers. “Compared to a girl, surfboards last longer, they don’t get pregnant, they don’t care about how many other boards you have or how many you’ve ridden. They don’t care if you’re out late or if you’ve taken a shower. They don’t mind if you look at other boards or treat them bad, but best of all, you can ride a surfboard any time of the month.”
The two of them explode at this, Lux shaking her head at me but smiling all the same. I want to see that smile over and over and over again. I want to see it when I finally have her in my arms, when she’s pinned under me and begging for more, screaming my name as I fill her.
It’s going to happen, I tell myself. It’s going to happen.
Bo finds me on the veranda. “I heard back from you-know-who.”
“And?”
Bo leans in close. “He had a friend over here run the plates. The car’s stolen.”
It’s no surprise, but it doesn’t explain anything either. I’d almost forgotten about the guy, haven’t seen him around for days. I even left her alone in the house the other day.
Fucking stupid, man. Really fucking stupid.
The fact the car’s stolen is not a good sign. I could go to Deputy Dipshit, but I can’t see how that would help. Too many questions about how we found out the car’s hot in the first place.
“What are we going to do, bro?” asks Bo, impatient as always.
I look him dead in the eye. “Nothing. We wait.”
Bo punches the weatherboard next to my head. “I’m sick of fucking waiting.”
“Bo—”
But he ignores me, walking back into the house.
CHAPTER NINE
LUX
The sun’s in full swing above, the skies so crystal clear and blue even the smallest cloud looks completely abstract.
I dip the paintbrush into the can, painting the doorway a bright blue. ‘Angora’ if I recall. Deacon let me pick it.
“This is kind of relaxing,” I call out, Deacon’s on a ladder beside me doing the roof of the veranda with a roller, his bare chest so close I could reach out and touch it. It’s hot, he’s sweaty, the accordion crunch of his abs not going unnoticed.
“Good,” he says, “there’s a whole house to go”.
I cut in the corner of the doorframe with the side of the brush. “You’ve never told me what you guys do for a living, how you manage to afford all this.”
“The house? It’s big, but it wasn’t as expensive as you think.”
“But none of you work, right?”
“We worked enough in the States, made good money. If the money runs out, we’ll find work again. It’s no big deal.”
He’s hiding something. They all are. That’s what worries me. “You can trust me, you know.”
“I do.”
“They why not tell me the truth?”
He steps off the ladder. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”