by Lisa Glass
No, no, no. That was panic talking. It was probably just his wallet or phone.
But loads of people in Florida walked around with guns, or had them in their cars. One in three that’s what my mum had said. She’d warned me to be careful, to stay safe, and this was the exact sort of situation that would crop up in her nightmares: her daughter, alone, at night, face to face with an armed gang.
“Girl, are you insane?” he shouted over the swish of the sea.
“No, I was just hot.”
“You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks,” I said, alert to the insult.
“Cold. You look cold. Maybe you should step out of the ocean and warm up?” I put my arm across my chest, in case my nipples were doing something mortifying, and I tried to decide what to do.
I couldn’t stay in the water forever. One way or another, I’d have to get off this beach, even if it did mean fighting a potential gangbanger for my handbag.
As it happened, I walked out of the sea with my head held high and the boy handed me my bag right away.
“Thank you,” I said, and then added, “Good evening.” I figured politeness was a good strategy, but I really was starting to sound like I was doing an impression of Keira Knightley. I tried to dodge around them, when the boy I’d been talking to touched my arm gently.
“You OK? It’s kinda late for a swim.”
“It’s not really that late, considering,” I said, in the lamest retort ever. “And yes, I’m all right. Sort of. Rubbish day.”
He nodded.
“That your wine?”
“It was floating in the water. I’m not an alky. I just need to find a bin a trash can.”
“Well, Lady Di, you shouldn’t be out here alone,” one of the others said. “There are some shady dudes out tonight.” They looked at each other and grinned, and I wondered if they meant that they were the shady dudes in question.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the concern though. That’s nice of you.”
“You hear that? We’re nice. Ha ha. Y’know, you look like you lost a dollar and found a quarter.”
He had me there. I felt totally and utterly gutted, and was about two seconds from crying. This random guy’s concern was not helping on that front.
I shrugged.
“Do you need us to take you somewhere? Play chaperone?”
They seemed decent enough, but they had me surrounded, on a night beach, and my hackles were up. My mum had drilled me, since I was about three, in scenarios that might lead to my violent death. But by wandering off in a strange city on my own, I’d already seriously departed from her script.
“This is going to sound sort of tragic, but my mum would kill me if I went off with a load of strange blokes in the middle of the night. She’s been mainlining CSI.”
“Your mom might like it better than you walking the streets alone,” one of his friends murmured.
“Cheers, but I should go find my boyfriend. He’ll be around here somewhere.”
“He ditched you in the middle of the night? Some boyfriend.”
“Yeah, ex-boyfriend is more like it,” I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt.
But Zeke hadn’t ditched me.
“Technically I ditched him. I was provoked though. Massively provoked.”
“He hit you?”
“God, no. It wasn’t like that.”
“Stepping out on you?”
“Well, no, I don’t think so. But he did kiss another girl in a bar just now.”
“So you ran off?”
This was not the answer I was expecting. He was frowning at me as if I was the one in the wrong.
“What was I supposed to do? Stay and watch them get to second base?”
They didn’t get it. Zeke had completely betrayed me. He’d kissed her and he hadn’t even cared if I saw. Maybe he’d kissed her because I’d beaten him at pool and he couldn’t handle being beaten by a girl. The whole idea of that was revolting.
“What if you got it wrong? You should have, like, asked the dude for an explanation. Or homeboy pulled this shit before?”
“I don’t think so.”
The boy with the nice eyes took a breath mint out of a pack and offered me one. I shook my head and watched him suck it.
“So you broke up with him, right?”
“Not yet, but I’m going to.”
“His loss.”
That was not true though. If I broke up with Zeke, it would be my loss, because Zeke would always have zillions of girls that wanted to be with him. Whereas I almost never found kindred spirits who got me.
I looked down at the sand.
“You gonna puke?”
“No, why do people keep asking me that?” I said. I had gone past the hot, flushed stage and gone straight over to nauseated and weak. My head was swirly and I had become very, very cold. The vest/tiny-shorts combo was fine in a bar, but not so great when soaking wet and stranded on a beach.
“What’s your name?”
“Iris.”
“Irisss?” he said, rolling the word around his mouth.
I nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Iris. I’m Seb. This is Javier, Paul, Ernesto and AJ. So what’s your next move?”
“Don’t exactly have one.”
“Where you wanna get?”
That was a good question, with no good answer. I totally didn’t want to go back to my hotel and face Zeke but I had nowhere else to go.
“Grove Hotel.”
“British chick don’t stay in any no-tell motel, huh? OK, so we’re gonna hit the streets and walk to the Grove Hotel. You can stay out here and take your chances if you want, but if you follow us, you’ll get to the Grove safe. How’s that work for you?”
My choices were limited. Even if I called Zeke, it’d take him a while to get to me, and in the meantime I’d be alone, trying not to get in the way of anybody serious.
I didn’t usually trust people I’d met five minutes before, but there was something about Seb that seemed decent.
“Great. Thank you so much,” I said, my teeth chattering. Seb pulled his blue hoodie over his head and passed it to me. His wallet fell on to the sand, and he stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans, which made them sag even more.
“You sure?” I said. “Aren’t you going to get cold out here?” I looked at the black vest top he had on underneath and couldn’t help noticing great arms.
“I’ll be absolutely fabulous, darling,” he said in a mock British accent, grinning. Then he said, “OK, we’re gonna go now.”
I put on his hoodie, which smelled of boy sweat and aftershave, and watched the five of them cut across the beach and walk on toward the car park.
I weighed up my options and decided to follow them. I also decided to keep carrying my empty wine bottle, just in case. Not the greatest weapon, but better than nothing.
Seb looked over his shoulder every now and then to make sure I was still with them. After fifteen minutes of walking I recognized an awesome fifties-style diner next to an Italian place with foot-long pizza slices, and then we were at the mini-mall. The guys crossed a side street which led to the hotel’s underground parking, and stood outside the main entrance, where the doormen gave them dirty looks.
I ditched the bottle in a bin, caught them up and held out a twenty-dollar bill to Seb.
“For your trouble,” I said. “Split it with your mates.”
This moment was admittedly quite awkward, but I knew there was a big tipping culture in America and I didn’t want to offend anyone.
He laughed and waved my hand away.
“Honestly,” I said. “Please take it.”
Seb nodded to his friends to go ahead, and they walked down the street out of earshot and waited for him there.
“Keep it. We don’t want your money,” he said, and added, “What’s your number?”
“My room number?” I asked, slightly scandalized.
He laughed again and made the phone sign.
Oh. I really was drunk.
Without thinking it through properly, and not wanting to be rude, I got one of my business cards out of my purse and handed it to him.
“That’s me,” I said. “My mobile number’s on there.”
“Iris Fox. Face of Billabong UK,” he read. “Surfer girl?”
I nodded, but didn’t want to elaborate, because whenever I attempted to explain my current Face of Billabong status it wound up sounding braggy or pathetic, or both.
“Hey, you weren’t at that signing thing yesterday? My sister made me drop her at the mall so she could get scribbled on by some surfer dude she has the hots for.”
Zeke. Brilliant, just brilliant.
“Yeah. I was there.”
“Cool. Maybe she got your autograph too?”
“How old is she?”
“Fourteen. No, fifteen.”
“Then, no, she didn’t.”
“How long you staying?”
“Not long. Leaving after the contest.”
“If you want to talk tomorrow, we can grab a cup of joe?”
He was sweet and I couldn’t help smiling.
“My dad runs the best coffee joint in Miami. Free espresso right there.”
“Wow.”
“Wow yourself, Iris: Face of Billabong UK.”
“That was kind of an accident. There was this sabotage thing. Not from me, like . . . by another girl who messed with my board and it all went crazy . . .” And talking of crazy, my stupid babbling was definitely making it sound like I was. “So, um, tell me more about this coffee place.”
“Garcias, in Little Havana. I’ll call you.”
“No, don’t worry. I’m sure you have better things to do than show some tourist around.”
“Yeah, not really. I can cut class.”
“You’re in college?”
“Miami International University of Art and Design. Graphic and web design, but I’m more into the web stuff.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, I love it.”
I looked down at the pavement and could think of precisely nothing to say. I couldn’t exactly ask for my business card back, even though I had a feeling I shouldn’t have given it to him, so I just nodded and said, “Thanks for the help. Oh, take your hoodie.”
Except, I couldn’t get it off. Some loose threads on the inside had managed to get hooked on to my bra, which had clasps all over it, in order to be fully convertible.
“Here,” Seb said, “let me help you.”
He had his hand down the back of the hoodie, trying to work the fabric free, when I heard running footsteps behind me.
chapter twenty-one
A figure crossed in front of me, and Seb shot backward and his head hit the exterior wall of the hotel’s restaurant.
Zeke had arrived.
And his face was contorted with fury. He was sweating heavily, telling Seb to beat it before he called the cops.
“Stop it,” I shouted. “He was helping me!”
When Seb regained his balance, he squared up to Zeke, all flashing eyes and set jaw, and I saw blood trickling down his face from a gash on the side of his head.
“Are you high?” he asked Zeke. “I was helping her out of my sweatshirt.”
Zeke’s anger was replaced by confusion, and then fright, when he turned to Seb and saw the blood. He started to apologize, “Sorry, man, I—” when Seb punched him in the face.
“Now we’re even,” he said.
Seb’s friends were watching from a distance, without moving, and without even looking particularly concerned. Judging by the right hook he’d demonstrated, Seb could obviously handle himself in a fight.
Zeke made no move to retaliate. He checked his nose for blood, and said, “Feel better?”
“Kinda,” Seb said.
“He showed me the way back to the hotel when I was lost, all right?” I said to Zeke, so furious that I could barely get my words out.
“I guess I got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Nice punch though,” Zeke said, touching his eye, which seemed to have caught some of the blow.
“Yeah, Zeke, you did. He was just helping me out of his hoodie! I was cold in this stupid bloody outfit you and Chase made me wear.”
“Wait,” Seb said, looking Zeke up and down. “You’re Zeke Francis?”
Zeke nodded, looking very uncomfortable.
“You never said your boyfriend was Zeke Francis,” Seb said to me. “This is the guy my sister’s obsessed with. Dude, she has money on you to win the tour before you hit twenty-one.”
“Shit. I feel bad. I’m real sorry,” Zeke said.
“Forget about it.”
“How much?”
“Huh?”
“How much did she bet on me?”
“A hundred bucks.”
Zeke got his wallet out of his back pocket and counted out five twenty-dollar notes and handed them to Seb. “Here, take it. Give her back her money.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m not gonna be world champ before I’m twenty-one. Probably not gonna be world champ ever.”
Seb put up his hand. “What is it with you people trying to give me your money?”
“You tried to give him money?” Zeke asked.
“For helping me find my way back. I thought you were supposed to tip everyone here!”
There was a pause, the most uncomfortable silence imaginable.
Finally Seb broke it, with, “Y’all have a nice night,” and walked off shaking his head and muttering, “I can’t believe it. She said he was such a good guy.”
“Thank you,” I called after him, but he only nodded without looking back.
Then I turned to Zeke and said, “You have some bloody nerve.”
chapter twenty-two
Zeke’s eye was already starting to swell up. In a few hours it’d probably close over. Part of me wanted to run to reception and ask for an ice pack, but another part of me wanted to grab a biro and stab him in the other eye.
We stood in front of the lobby with its trailing ferns and massive indoor fountain and squared off.
“Iris, baby, I’m so sorry.”
He tried to hug me, but I was having none of it.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me, and don’t touch me.”
“Just tell me you’re OK?”
“Yeah, I’m super.”
“You sure? You’re not hurt?”
I looked at my arms and legs in an exaggerated way, as if I was expecting to see burns or blood.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Sheesh, Iris. Where the heck have you been? And why are you wet?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m running around all the bars and diners, going out of my mind. I stood in line for like a half-hour to get into that dive club on the corner to look for you, since the assholes on the door wouldn’t just let me in, even though I totally told them it was an emergency. Chase made his driver take him around the backstreets, in case you’d gotten lost. I was just coming to check the hotel room one last time, and if you weren’t there I was gonna call the cops.”
He had sweat on his forehead and he looked so panicky that a tiny part of me felt bad.
“Well, I didn’t know you’d flip out. I didn’t even think you’d be looking for me. You seemed pretty busy back there.”
“Flip out? You took off left me high and dry.”
I shook my wrist free of his grip. “Why, Zeke? Why did I do that?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Oh, get lost, Zeke. You totally know why.”
I could tell he was on the verge of shouting at me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to push him, see him lose his rag.
“Because you say you wanna be treated as a grown-ass woman, but you’re a little kid who acts out when things don’t go her way?”
That one hurt. I shook my head and made a scoffing sound, too annoyed to answer in actual words.
He looked up at the atrium ceiling high above us, fingers int
erlinking at the back of his neck as if he’d cricked it. Then his gaze came back down to me, eyes accusing.
“Where did you even go tonight?”
“What’s Chase’s real name?”
“Are you serious? How are you even still talking about that?”
“I want to know.”
“If Chase wanted you to know, you’d know.”
“Fine. I don’t give a toss anyway. South Beach.”
“At night? Have you lost your mind? There are gangs here. Anything could have happened. What were you THINKING?”
“Nothing did happen though, did it? I was fine. Chill out.”
“Don’t This is not pretend, Iris. This is real life. There are real bad guys out there. So how about you grow the hell up already?”
“Oh yeah, cos you’re, like, so much more mature than I am, being, what, a whole two years older. Ooooh, Zeke Francis’s got it all figured out. What a legend.”
He exhaled and put his hands in his back pockets. When he spoke, he put on his “reasonable” voice, the one that made it seem like he was perfect and I was a lunatic. “Come on, Iris, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I just don’t want you to ever pull a stunt like that again. Jeez, I thought you were smarter than this.”
Who was Zeke to tell me I was stupid? His greatest achievement was what exactly? Pissing around at the edge of the ocean on a surfboard?
“I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not your responsibility.”
“Yeah, you are. I made a promise to your mom.”
“What? No, you didn’t.”
“Sure I did! Your friends and family are in Newquay. Without me, you have no one. And you’re sixteen!”
Ouch. A dig at me for not having made any of my own friends yet?
“I’m practically seventeen, actually, and I can handle myself. You’re not my knight in shining armor. I managed just fine before I met the mythical Zeke bloody Francis.”
His face lifted into this incredulous, fake smile and then it was gone, replaced by pure anger.
“What the hell is with you tonight? You’re acting nuts.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. One-hundred-per-cent loony-tunes wackadoodle.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, and throw a drink in his face for good measure, when it occurred to me that maybe he had a point. I took a breath and said the words that should have come out of my mouth the moment we ran into one another: “I saw you getting off with that girl. Amber’s friend. INGA.”