by A. J. Sand
“Like my girl left me…” Wes shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips.
“Hit me,” Kai offered and Wes spit his liquor to the floor involuntarily.
“Dude, what?” he set the bottle down, laughing with uncertainty about the seriousness of the statement.
“Come on, get it out of your system. Hit me. Just be gentle with my moneymaker; my girl likes me pretty…”
“I’m not going to hit you, Kai.”
“Dude, just do it…” Christian said. “Hit him.”
“Do it,” Leko chimed in.
“I’m not going to fucking hit him…” Wes said. I might not stop. Who knew what it would unleash.
“Okay, but you need to do something, dude.” Kai tried to deflect the traces of worry melding with his features by grinning. “Come on…let’s go get you a tattoo. It’s on me.”
“No, Kai…”
“What can I do, dude?”
“Drive me to Orange County to kill Brody,” Wes said without a laugh.
“Bring a carpet…” Christian said.
“And wear gloves…” Abel added. Finally, Wes managed to laugh but his friends all stared at him as if they expected him to break into tears. He didn’t cry in general, and he didn’t feel anything enough to cry, anyway. Plus, he wanted to break things instead. Break. Oh, that’s what she’d let him do in front of Brody. How would he ever live that down?
“What…? What are you guys doing? Why are you sitting around the table like this, facing me? What the fuck is this? The View? No one died. Stop looking at me like someone did.”
“Okay, you’re right, no one died, but seriously, what can we do to help you, baby bro?”
“Death! Wait! That’s it! We’re having a funeral! Pull out your phones, boys. Call everyone you know. Invite the mourners! Tweet. Facebook. Skywrite that shit. Let’s bury my fucking heart!”
He could always count on his friends and his brother. The house was packed within several hours later that night, and it was a combination of familiar faces and some random people he had yelled to from his patio. Leko was killing it as the DJ, and Wes was drunk and dancing sloppily with Kiera against the wall. He was leaning against it and she was, well, leaning forward. He tuned out for a minute as he wondered what Lana was doing and where she was, but it wasn’t worth attempting to ask. Her phone was off, and he’d given his phone to Abel and told him that no matter how much he begged for it tonight, not to give it back to him.
Something warm brushed his neck, and Wes snapped back to reality. Kiera’s mouth was pressed to the hollow at his collarbone and her fingers were dipping into the front of his shorts.
“Okay…wait. No. Nooooo.” Wes stepped to the side and held his hands up.
“I thought you and Vices Hollywood broke up.”
“We did. And her name’s Lana, dude.”
“Well, isn’t that the point of all this? To start having fun again? Don’t you miss our fun?”
“I never fuck my pain away, Kiera…I drink it.” Kai was signaling him, which gave him an excuse to walk away, and as soon as he got closer, Dylan jumped out from behind a wall.
“Whoa! You’re flying in mourners!” he said to Kai as he kissed Dylan on the cheek. “Hi, darlin’!”
“Lift your fucking cups, everybody! Wesley Abraham Elliott is back on the market!” Leko shouted from the corner of the room, and the crowd around Wes erupted into cheers beneath a cover of raised red Solos. Ray-fucking-rah, Wes thought.
“Oh, geez, are we about to be stampeded by women?” Dylan asked.
“Not if Kiera kills them all first…” Wes grabbed Dylan’s hand. “Hide me.”
“No funny business,” Kai teased, handing them both drinks before Wes led Dylan upstairs and into his private bathroom. He locked it and leaned against the door, his head hanging. At least with Dylan, he wouldn’t feel obligated to be his regular self.
“Kai filled me in a little bit. So, she hasn’t called you at all since—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Dyl.”
“Okay, Wes. What do you want to—”
“I don’t want to talk about how I begged her not to go, in front of everyone I fucking know and respect because I love her more than I needed my dignity. I just wanted this to work so bad, Dyl. I wanted it. I wanted her. I just wanted her so badly. I was willing to deal with the pain of her leaving me fucked up in San Diego because love hurts, right?” He shook his head. “Shit, Dyl. Kai had to pick me up from the fucking pavement after they drove away.”
“He didn’t…he didn’t tell me…” Dylan said after she gulped down, and her eyes rounded to globes. Her arms suddenly pulled him in, and he sank silently against her small frame. She was squeezing so hard, like she had reasoned she could absorb his anguish, like she was willing to share it, just to make it ache less.
“And I’m mourning all of it. Not just what we developed, but everything before that, too. We had something amazing from the beginning, and it all got tainted the minute she sat in that car with him, regardless of her reasons. So, I don’t want to talk. I want to drink until I forget my name and everything before today…okay? Until I stop fucking loving Lana Langston. So, cheers! Let’s drink to that shit!”
“Yup. No talking. I got it. Cheers,” Dylan said as she sat with her back against the cabinets, and he slid down the door. They sat like that without speaking, but with her staring at him with an expression so compassionate, he finally felt something.
Too bad it was despair. “Hey, Dylan?”
“Yes, Wesley…”
“I don’t tell you enough, but I’m glad I dumped you ‘cause you were better suited for Kai, and you didn’t mind ending up with someone sub-Elliott.” He took a sip from his drink and snatched hers away.
She burst out laughing. “Uh…you’re welcome? I love you, too, Wesley...thanks for, uh, dumping me.”
“You know…it’s only fair as my friend, if we sit here like this that you have something to worry over, too.”
“Uh, like what…?”
“Like how I helped Kai buy a really big sparkly ring in Berlin in January…” Wes pushed up to a standing position with a huge smile and her mouth fell open as he walked out of the bathroom.
“Wes!” Dylan called after him but she halted her trailing steps when they both saw Kiera standing in his doorway, pointing eyes at Dylan that were expectant of her departure. “I’m going to murder you. Not a threat but a bona fide promise,” Dylan added as she sauntered out. “Dismemberment.”
“Yeah, yeah, Dylan Carroll.”
Wes crashed down onto his bed, eyes closed, indulging in how much his sheets still smelled like Lana. He heard the whine of his door as it closed, and the bed shifted suddenly when Kiera sat down. His eyes flapped open, gaze catching the Shakespearean anthology on his desk, the last book Lana had brought him, as he reached for the unopened can of Lava Energy on his nightstand. We’re reading MacBeth and Hamlet. Get ready! The original whiny dudes of literature, her Post-It had said.
“Hey, Kier—Whoa! Okay!” Wes yelled as her hand moved up his thigh for the waistband of his board shorts.
“What?”
“Can we talk?”
“About what?”
“What was the last book you read? Like the last really great book you read. One that you wanted to tell everyone you know about it?”
Kiera sat up, eyebrows raised. “You’re really turning down a blowjob? You had to beg me to give you them when we were fooling around. You’re getting a freebie.”
“Uh, I don’t want one.”
“Why?”
Wes sat up on his forearms after pulling his shorts back up. “Because I’m sad.”
“Good, it’ll make you feel better…” Kiera trailed off into a smirk and Wes scowled.
“Do you know how fucked up it is to be sad and then use sex to make you not sad? Ugh. So, there’s not one book you’ve read that you love enough to talk to me about? Really? We used to talk about books sometimes.”<
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“Oh, I only did that because you liked it. I’d be on Sparks Notes on my phone half the time trying to keep up. I would normally tune out and just agree with your thoughts a lot of the time.”
Wes laughed. “At least you’re honest.” Following a sigh, he added, “I don’t want to kick you out, Ki, but I want to be alone right now.” Not true, he just didn’t want her in there in case she pounced again.
Kiera didn’t object, which he appreciated, but he saw her gaze land on the anthology on his desk on the way out. “‘Love, Lana.’ You and Vices Hollywood just fit together, huh? That night we were there, I followed you down the stairs and saw you two during the karaoke. You’re always having fun, but you looked like you were having a lot of fun with her. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Yeah…” As she left, Dylan barreled back into the room, a glare keeping her face tight. “Were you waiting out there?” Wes asked.
“Uh, yeah, cause I can’t look at Kai right now, knowing what I know about rings…and plus, my BFF is struggling.” She sat next to him. “Um, did you and Kiera…?”
“Oh God no. She tried to give me a blowie though...” Wes laughed. “Like really tried.”
Dylan rubbed his arm. “I know it just happened today, but I’m worried about you, Deuce. You know partying isn’t going to help you deal with this, right?”
Like he didn’t know he was plugging a metaphorical breach in a structurally weak dam with his finger. “Yeah, baby doll, but it stops me from thinking about what will happen when I actually have to.”
So with Abel being far too accommodating, Wes set himself on an Avoid. Party. Repeat cycle, surviving on Lava Energy and liquor, for the next few days (because who mourned anything just one day?), with his nights landing him sleepless on the couch because he began to dread how much his room reminded him of her: her books, her painting supplies, her scent. It was all too much. He had stopped going out on the balcony since her easel was out there, and he still hadn’t decided what to do with it. He sent her a text or called every day even though he knew it was a fruitless exercise. And it sent him into deeper despair at her absence, at the loss.
He was skipping training with Ian, deciding he was too irritable to be screamed at for two hours every day, but he was surfing daily and mostly keeping the same workout routine on his own since he still planned to compete in Bali. On Sunday morning, a full week after the breakup, he returned from the beach, preparing to send out another mass text for tonight’s party, when he spotted a pair of women’s tennis shoes by the stairs. Charlotte. Abel wasn’t back from training yet, but Wes figured it wasn’t worth risking Charlotte walking out the door without speaking to her about what was going on with her.
“Char!” Wes said as he took the steps two at a time. “Charlotte!” He knocked on her bedroom door.
“What?” she called from inside.
“We need to talk. Now.”
“No. I’m tired.”
“Oh, I bet you are. You’ve been partying nonstop—”
“Ha! You’re one to talk. Have you seen this place lately, Wes? It’s a goddamn shithole.”
“Have you seen this place lately? ‘Cause we sure as hell haven’t seen you. Are you even really back in school?”
There was movement inside and then she was at the door. “You’ve seen me now. Happy?” She tried to pull the door shut again, but he blocked it. Shit. Wes’ heart slammed into his stomach as he took her in. Her pupils. They were as big as plates and she had squinted against the dim hallway light. And she was drowning in her baggy clothing.
Wes clutched her arm. “What the hell, Char? You are on drugs!”
“Let go of me!” Charlotte wrenched out of his grip, but he pushed past her and walked into her room. “Get out! Get out now!”
“This is my house, Char!” Wes spun to face her, horrified at how she looked as he scrutinized her further. Jesus. Charlotte really was doing drugs, and he’d barely noticed. Had Lana known about this since the Surf for Life party and not said anything specifically because she hadn’t wanted him to know she was in O.C.? And had she thrown the suspicion on him the night they were leaving for the awards show as a way of letting him know? Everything was spiraling, and he’d be buried beneath it all if he weren’t careful.
Charlotte stepped to the side suddenly to lean against the vanity, shielding his view from something she didn’t want him to see. It was clear she was trying and failing to make surreptitious movements behind her back, like shoving something into the pockets of her jeans. Wes walked toward her and jerked her hand forward, and they both froze as a baggie of a white powdered substance fell to the carpet.
He picked it up and stared down at it in the palm of his hand. “You brought this shit into our house? You brought drugs into our house, Char! What the fuck!” The sound of footsteps sped toward them and Abel was suddenly in the room too. Wes pulled Charlotte to her bed and made her sit. He spoke to Abel but he was scowling hard at Charlotte. “Buy her a ticket home.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said after scoffing. “How are you going to make sure I get on the plane?”
“I’ll waste the money and buy a ticket, too; I’ll walk your silly ass right up to the gate.” Wes looked to Abel. “Call Aunt Vicky.”
Charlotte smirked and laughed bitterly. “Oh, right…call my parents. They seem to always be the ones who have to handle your fucked up family’s problems.”
Wes was seething but he spoke calmly. This was still his little cousin, Charlotte, and she wasn’t herself right now. “I do a lot of dumb shit, but you’re way dumber than I am, so I’m going to let that slide, especially because I love you. Plus, I’ve had one hell of a week. You’re not gonna add to it more than you already are.”
“I knew I should’ve just stayed in Orange County,” Charlotte said. “They’re fun over there…and really nice. You just seem to be the only person Brody isn’t nice to.” Charlotte stood up, a spiteful smile settling on her lips. “He’s really nice to Lana. All the things he does to her…I mean, for her. Oops. Really nice—”
“He’s having a bad week and you say shit like that, anyway?” Abel shouted. “Yeah? You like it over there so much? Then get the fuck out of our house.”
*
Even with just under fifty people inside the pre-party at Shore Club, the new beachfront lifestyle entertainment center in San Clemente, it was out of control. And the exclusivity was meant to intensify the excitement of the crowd waiting outside for the official unveiling to the public. Wes, the other members of the Reaper Crew, and many other surfers from around the world were there for the nighttime opening ceremony for the venue, which included restaurants, bars, a nightclub, pools, a stage for musical acts, and two wave machines (that Wes was theoretically excited for) simulating surfing in the ocean. The surfers in attendance were going to be the first to try it out before they let the crowd experience it.
Ironically, even though he and Abel had been throwing parties the past two weeks, Wes wasn’t really feeling sociable. He was still miserable without Lana, and a constantly festive home was helping to dull the pain. Abel was probably sick of it, but he was indulging Wes, much like Wes had when Abel was initially heartbroken over Jamie. Maybe sometimes the twin thing was great.
Sloane pulled Wes against her as they moved on the small dance floor, concern pressing into her features as she watched him down a can of Lava Energy. “How many of those have you had in the last hour?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sleeping very well. So I’m pretty dead during the day. It helps. No lecture.”
“Fine. Any word on Charlotte?”
“No, once I calmed Abel down that day, we told her she could stay until her parents got there, but she left anyway. My aunt called later and said Charlotte had denied everything we had told her. Apparently, she said she’s staying at her apartment, but she’s not. At least they are still making plans to come out. I just want to know for sure where she is when they arrive.”
“…And Lana?”
Wes shrugged. “What about her? It’s over.” He did his best to keep the sadness burrowed within his core from reaching the surface, but it was wearing on him much more than he was letting anyone know. “But I’m not trying to get with you though, Sloane—”
“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it, Deuce…?” she said, but she smiled kindly; though, her expression quickly dimmed. “She and Brody—”
“You heard they were back together?” he interrupted.
“No, but they’re talking right now… Well, he’s trying to talk to her and she’s ignoring him.”
“Good for them,” Wes said, cringing internally.
“Then why do you look like you just walked in on someone shaving your cat?”
“‘Cause you’re dancing like an old lady. Shake something, girl!” Wes spun her around and pressed her back to his bare chest, guiding her hips to the music. He clenched his teeth and shook his head. If one more person asks me about her… Mentioning Lana was too much of a buzz kill, too much of a kick to the chest for him. It was bad enough so many of her things were still at his place, and he couldn’t seem to wash her scent off his sheets.
“Deuce!” Christian yelled to him from a cabana on the other side of the pool when the music died down. “They need us, man!”
“Reaper! Reaper! Reaper!” The outside crowd’s chants shifted to cheers when the spotlight shined on Wes, Abel, Brody and Christian as they walked on the stage, and a large screen filled with their images. Once the gates of the venue opened, Wes was engulfed in screaming fans as he stepped down, and he plastered a passable smile on his face when the cameras flashed. The music kicked up again and the place went completely dark. Suddenly, a bright light shined down on the wave pool, and Wes took the chance to search the crowd for Lana now that some of the faces where visible again; He hadn’t seen her since that shitty ass day in the parking lot. And as angry as he was, all he wanted to do was hold her, bury his face in her hair and tell her he loved her.
The wave machine blasted to life with a rush of water, and the crowd exploded into enthusiastic hollers when the announcer gave word that the surfers were preparing to take it for a ride. When the Reaper Crew went into the private clubhouse to change into their surfing attire, Wes approached Brody, hesitant, humiliated, desperate and needing to ask him about Charlotte and where she was. As much as he wanted to beat the shit out of Brody for Lana and for the drugs he’d found on Charlotte, there would only be undesirable consequences. Like never finding out what he knew about his cousin’s whereabouts.