by Kim Karr
It hasn’t been easy. It’s been a long road. Grief definitely took hold of me. Blinking my sad thoughts away, I look up as the swell emerges from more than fifty-foot depths and I watch as the silver-tinted waves of the Pacific roll in at a lightning-fast rate. Then I ride them out like a master. Well, not really, maybe more like an apprentice. Especially when I take a fall and have to swim to the surface.
Up on my board again, I give it another try. I take a full breath, all the way from my stomach to my chest, tilt my head back to open my lungs, and take in more air until the water cascades all around me and once again I’m completely submerged. Time stands still while I swim through the blur of the ocean and toward the light. I reach the surface and blinking, I see more than the clear day. I can see a future.
Chest to board, I paddle in and watch the shore come alive in the early afternoon hours. As I scan the beach, my eye catches a familiar sight off in the distance. I strain to make sure it’s her. Cupping through the ocean faster, I pick up speed and hit shallow water. I can’t help grinning at the sight of her.
Last night I was pissed as hell at her for arguing with me about what she should do about her jewelry business. She was nervous; she couldn’t calm down. If I suggested proceeding, she thought I meant that she stop. If I said yes, she heard no. I get that it was her nerves. In my current state of mind, though, I found it to be so damn frustrating.
But seeing her now, all the frustration just slides away because the sexy, sassy, and funny-as-hell girl is waiting for me. Waving a hand in the air, I shake the water from my hair and tuck my board under my arm.
“What are you doing here?” I yell as I emerge from the water.
“We have a lunch date, remember?” she responds, shading her eyes with her hand.
“Right.” I smile with a laugh.
She narrows her eyes. “Did you forget?”
“No. I just lost track of time.”
That face she makes tells me she’s not sure I’m telling the truth.
I am.
And I’m not.
I didn’t quite forget.
Or I didn’t mean to.
I got caught up in my business ideas.
That’s all.
Letting my guilt go, I allow my gaze to sweep the length of her and once my body stops humming in desire, I curl my fingers over my mouth to stifle my laughter at that mad face she’s making. “Hey, you look great,” I tell her.
She’s wearing a flowered green dress with gold straps, earrings, and one of her necklaces. She looks fucking beautiful, like Miss America. She’s also wearing sparkly sandals. It’s as if she could light up the whole beach, just like seeing her is lighting me up.
As I close the distance, I feel that same feeling I do every time she’s around. It’s in the way she looks at me. Angry or not, her alluring features are all I can see—the long strands of her hair blowing in the wind, her perky tits popping out from her form-fitting top, the slight curve of her hips, and fuck me, the smile she gives me without knowing she’s smiling. Then again, if she knew she was smiling, I doubt I’d be getting one. You see, I was an ass last night. I have some making up to do.
Kicking the sand up beneath my feet, I allow my gaze to focus on hers and try to tame the thudding of my pulse. It isn’t easy.
When a cool breeze presents itself on the shoreline, I stop on my heels and dig my board into the sand. Then I unzip my wet suit and move a little closer. “Want to go for a swim?”
She frowns at me. “I have to get back to work, Cam. I can’t go swimming now.”
I know she’s not trying to make me feel guilty that I have a flexible schedule and she doesn’t, but I do. I run my hand through my hair. “Let me get changed and we can go anywhere you want.”
With a step toward me, she smiles what I know is meant to be a real smile, and then she kisses me on the lips. “You stay out here and have fun. I’ll grab something quick on the way back to work.”
“You sure?”
She nods. “Yes. How about dinner instead?”
And then just like that, wet or not, I grab her face. Our mouths meet, our tongues collide, and we breathe each other in. We kiss with a hunger that I’m almost certain can never be satisfied. Time slips away as our hands move freely, roaming over each other in ways they shouldn’t in a public place.
Then just like that, she breaks our connection. My mind is whirling with how much I want her, right here, right now. The beach is fairly secluded, even if it’s not private. Yet I know better than to risk it.
“Come inside with me,” I whisper.
She steps back and straightens her dress, now a little wet. “I can’t, Cam. I have to get back to work. How about tonight?”
With a sigh, I answer, “I can’t. I told Oscar I’d meet him for dinner and look over his expansion plans.”
“Oscar Trivo from Trivo Furniture in the Village?”
I nod.
“What are you, Laguna’s unknown Chamber of Commerce?”
I rest my forehead against hers and grab her fingers, lacing our hands together. “He asked for my help,” I say, and kiss her once more. She’s not wrong. I do spend a lot of time helping others. Nothing wrong with that, but it is time to work on me.
“Lunch tomorrow then?” she asks.
With a lick around her lips, I find her ear. “Yes. Lunch tomorrow. And I can always come over tonight when I get home, you know.”
She kisses me back. “I’d love that, but I have to get up early, so I really should go to bed early.”
After I press my lips to hers one last time, I pull back. “Lunch tomorrow it is.”
Walking backwards, she waves at me. “See you then.”
I wave back and get this odd feeling, like there is something wrong between us that I can’t quite get a grip on.
I don’t know if it’s big or small.
It started with the baby scare, but it didn’t end when we found out there was no baby.
All I do know is that I need to find out what it is before it’s too late.
MAKAYLA
THE LIST IS COMPLETE.
I’ve checked all ten things off and I really do feel like a newer version of myself. Although thinking about it, about my state of mind after I found Sebastian with that hooker, I have to wonder if I really needed the list to reinvent myself or just some time on my own.
There were so many things wrong with Sebastian and me that I had become focused on those wrong things. I just couldn’t see that we weren’t perfect for each other because I wanted perfect so much. I wanted a family. To belong to someone. To be loved. And he had what I wanted. Offered it to me. Sebastian was really close with his family, and I loved that about him. I loved them. They loved me too. But he always put them before me. He put almost everything before me. Normally, it wasn’t a problem, but sometimes it was.
His constantly being late also bothered me. As did the fact that he would forget to do about half of the things he said he would. Nothing big. Just little things, like he’d say he’d pick up ice cream for after dinner and show up at my place without it. Tell me he’d bring me coffee in the morning and never show up. When we’d talk later, he’d tell me he got called into work. Maybe it was true, maybe not. I could never tell.
The sun is hot in the bluest of skies today. The air is warm. And palm trees are swaying back and forth. I really do love it here.
As soon as I turn the corner, I spot Cam’s mop of dark brown hair. He’s sitting at an outdoor table at the café around the block from my work, just like he told me he would be doing today at noon when we firmed up our lunch plans, but he’s alone, he’s with Brooklyn.
“I don’t know, man, but I’d say that’s an easy one,” Brooklyn says to Cam, removing his dark sunglasses. His light blue eyes almost disappear as he squints against the sun.
“You’re a lot of fucking help,” Cam says in return.
“What’s easy?” I ask as I approach Cam from behind.
His head snaps
around. He looks a little guilty about something. Ever since the pregnancy scare I have felt that something’s going on. My mind might be reading too much into everything, but I can’t stop myself. He seems to be pulling away from me. And after his forgetting lunch yesterday, all I can think about is how everything started to fall apart with Sebastian just in this way. Small things that at the time meant nothing, but they should have been seen as signs.
“Hey, there you are.” Cam stands up.
I glance over at Brooklyn to see if he’ll answer, but obviously he isn’t going to either.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say.
“You’re not late,” Cam says, lowering his head.
I turn my cheek so his kiss lands on it. I have no idea why I do that.
His eyes sweep me in my short skirt and jacket and I know he has sex on his mind. He always does. Not that I don’t, but I’m also starting to feel that maybe we’re overly focused on it. That we need more balance. He didn’t come over last night, but he did call me, and so we had sex—phone sex, but sex nonetheless.
“What? Does my breath smell?” he jokes, and pulls my chair out.
Feeling guilty for transferring my old feelings from Sebastian onto him, I resolve to stop it. So when he leans down to place my napkin on my lap, I whisper, “You do smell—good enough to eat.”
I’m full of mixed signals and even I know it. If it’s driving me crazy, it must be driving him crazy. I should tell him—tell him how I feel so he knows. And then we can approach whatever is going on together.
I will tell him.
Soon.
“Hey Brooklyn, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Yeah, Cam and I have this thing to take care of this afternoon—hope you don’t mind.”
It could be my imagination, but I swear Cam just kicked him under the table.
“No, not at all,” I say.
Thing.
What thing?
Cam squeezes my hand and leans over to kiss me again.
Brooklyn sits there with his notebook in front of him and an amused look on his face.
Cam rolls his eyes. “What?”
“You’re different when you have a girlfriend.”
Cam shrugs, or maybe flinches, I’m not sure. “No, I’m not.”
Brooklyn opens his notebook and jots something down, then looks up. “You are. It’s good, man, though. It’s all good. In fact, I’m using you both as my muses for my screenplay.”
“Whatever, dude,” Cam comments.
Brooklyn shrugs and then waves the waiter over and points to the menu. “Three to start.”
“I’ll get those right away, sir,” the waiter answers.
“Wheatgrass shots,” says Cam. “What kind of restaurant is this, anyway?”
My gag reflex kicks in. No way am I drinking one of those. “Raw food,” I answer, turning around and pointing to the sign under the name. “You picked it, so I assumed you liked it.”
He shakes his head no. “Brooklyn suggested it.”
I feel a little more deflated. This was our lunch date and he let someone else pick the spot.
Stop it, Makayla. It’s no big deal.
Cam opens his menu. “Kale chips, sunchokes, seawitch? Are you kidding me? What kind of food is this?”
Ignoring him, I look at my own menu. “I haven’t eaten here. What’s good?” I ask Brooklyn.
Cam bursts out laughing. “Let’s just say whatever you order, you’ll want an early dinner.”
I glare at him again.
He tosses me a questioning look as if he doesn’t know why I’ve reacted that way. Especially since he knows I talk about Maggie and her food choices all the time. Again, I don’t know why I reacted that way either.
“Speaking of dinner,” I say. “I was thinking we could try to cook something together, like we’ve talked about.”
“I can’t, Makayla, I’m sorry,” he says, “but I don’t think I’ll be back before nine tonight.”
“Oh, right,” I say, “you and Brooklyn have a thing.”
Brooklyn looks uncomfortable.
I don’t want him to be, so I smile and make like all is good. Like I used to do with Sebastian.
Conversation during our meal is mostly about my jewelry business. I feel like I’m doing most of the talking. Cam seems preoccupied. Even with Brooklyn here, it feels strained and once we’ve finished eating, I feel a little impatient to leave and I stand up.
“Where are you going?” Cam asks me.
“I have to get back to work.”
“I’ll walk back with you.”
“I have some stops to make. I’ll catch up with you later,” I tell him.
I don’t have stops.
I want him to insist he walk me. Lame, I know. I want to feel like he’s putting me first. Lame again, I know.
“Okay.” He lowers his head to kiss me.
Again I turn my cheek.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers.
“Nothing. I just have a lot to do. See you, Brooklyn,” I say, and turn and walk away. Tears leak from my eyes and I can’t stop them.
Okay, late PMS must be so much worse than normal PMS.
Right?
Don’t answer that.
It has to be.
CAM
I’M ON THE FENCE.
Worried as fuck to pull the trigger.
Punching numbers, plugging in costs, estimating marketing, determining profits. It all seems like such a crapshoot.
When my cell rings, I don’t even look to see who it is when I answer it. “Hello.”
“Camden, it’s your father.”
I freeze.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I should have looked at my screen.
I shouldn’t have answered.
He clears his throat. “I’m calling because that money I transferred to you more than two months ago is still sitting untouched in the holding account.”
Fighting back my fury, I slam my laptop down. “And . . .”
“And, as a businessman, you know leaving that much money in a non–interest-bearing account isn’t good business. I’d like to send you a list of companies you might consider investing in.”
Clenching my fists, I fight back the urge to say, “Fuck you,” and instead keep quiet.
“Cam, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Listen, son, I know you’re angry at me and you have every right to be. What I did was wrong, but don’t waste your life because of it. It’s time you stand up and become a man.”
The fact that he is right only irks the living shit out of me. When Makayla and I thought she might be pregnant, it wasn’t having a child that worried me; it was how the fuck I was going to be able to take care of one. Take care of both Makayla and our child. That’s what terrified me. I need to get a real job.
He goes on. “I know Brandon didn’t have what it took to make it in this business—”
Anger swoops through me, and I cut him off. “Don’t you dare mention his name, not like that. Everything Brandon did, he did to make you proud, and because it was never good enough for you, he needed an alternate reality. He shot needles in his veins to forget who he was, to forget that he was your son. You might not have handed him that last needle, but you were the reason he used it. So you don’t get to talk about him.”
The line goes dead and I know I pushed him too far this time.
Good.
It had to be said.
Minutes pass and regret settles in.
I don’t really believe that.
Not anymore.
I’ve come to accept that Brandon’s fate was his own, and the life he lost was his own to lose. It doesn’t mean I won’t miss him. Or that I don’t love him. Because I do. It just means I know there is no one to blame.
Fury rips through me at what I did. I punch the wall. I shouldn’t have said that to my father. No matter how much I hate hi
m, I shouldn’t have said that.
Finding a bottle of whiskey, I pour a drink, then another, and another, too.
Shoving it aside, I lay my head down and close my eyes.
Fuck my life.
When the door opens, I barely hear it.
“Cam?” Makayla calls from the living room.
With my head still down on the kitchen table, I slowly lift it. I have no idea how long I have been sleeping, but the pool of drool below me tells me quite a while. When she appears in the doorway, I try to make it seem like I’m fine. “Hey.” My words are only slightly slurred.
She comes rushing forward with some rather large file folders and her date book, which is never far from her side. “I’m so glad you’re home. I need some help. I can’t decide what to do.” Her voice is frantic and her words come so fast, I can barely comprehend them.
I rub a hand down my face. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
Sitting next to me, she starts going through the items she just set on the table. “The jewelry orders,” she snaps, like I’m a mind reader and should have known.
Slow at the draw, I ask, “What about them?”
Her face creases and little lines of anger appear on her forehead.
I consider reaching over and smoothing them with my finger.
“Cam,” she says loudly.
No, I don’t think she’d like that.
Those lines have rearranged themselves around her mouth now because she’s pursing her lips. “How could you forget? We talked about all of this yesterday at lunch.”
I cock my head to the side. “How about you remind me?”
Fuck me, but with the state of mind I’m in, I can’t remember my own name right now.
Not giving me an inch, she huffs a frustrated sigh. “I have to decide if I should decline new orders on my jewelry until I can make the product? Or if I should accept the orders, but create a back-order status? Or if I should just process them and state a three-to-four-week shipping time?”
Oh yeah, now I remember. The thing is, my head was already pounding and now it’s spinning with her issues and my issues all mixing together. “Makayla, I already told you the first rule of business is never turn away business. But you have to figure out a realistic delivery date before you can do anything.”