by J. Haymore
I let out a shaky laugh. “Well, gentlemen. I’m not sure if you’re on the guest list.”
“They’re not,” the gate guard assures me.
“And what will happen if you let me out of your sight? What would Ethan—Mr. Williams—do?”
Roger and Jim give each other uneasy looks, and I sigh. There’s no harm in agreeing to have them near me tonight. And even though I’m not worried about being on a boat again, it won’t hurt to have them close.
“Can they be added to the list, do you think?” I ask the gate guard.
“Let me check.” He pulls out a cell phone, dials a number, and speaks quietly into it for a moment. Then he nods at me. “No problem.”
“Well, Roger. Jim,” I ask with a smile. “How do you feel about a sunset cruise on the marina?”
“Pretty good, ma’am,” Jim says.
“Tara, please.” I must really be a grown-up if people are starting to call me ma’am.
“Thanks for making that easy on us,” Roger says as we head toward the ramp leading onto the boat.
“No problem. Just…don’t hover too much, okay? I don’t know what to do with bodyguards. I feel kind of silly about it.”
“You won’t even know we’re there,” Roger vows.
A man at the top takes my hand to help me aboard, probably afraid that my limp will cause me to fall. The assumption doesn’t bother me anymore, though, and I take his hand and let him guide me onto the deck. As promised, Roger and Jim fade away as I walk under a crystal chandelier in the massive main cabin and approach the bar to order a glass of champagne. I look around, not seeing Kyle, but seeing a few familiar faces—friends and acquaintances of Nalani’s that I met when I sailed with her on the Temptation before the Hawaii trip.
“Tara, is that you?” A woman with auburn hair rushes at me and takes me into her arms. “My God. It’s so good to see you. You must have been so scared.”
“Hi, Mackenzie.” I embrace Nalani’s friend, feeling awkward. “It’s good to see you too.”
She pulls back a bit, her green eyes scrutinizing me. “You look older.”
“Do I?”
She nods solemnly. “You do. But I guess that’s to be expected after all you went through.”
Is it? I ponder this for a second. After the accident that killed Emily and damaged my leg, I felt younger, more insecure, immature, uncertain. But after all that happened on the Temptation, I do feel older. I’m finally in a place where I don’t need to be afraid of life anymore.
I talk with Mackenzie for a while about Nalani and our last days on the Temptation, and I end up repeating the story again and again, finding myself popular for the first time, ever. Because I was one of the very last people to see Nalani alive. I wish Kyle would show up already, because he’d take the reins for me. But he’s still nowhere in sight, so I plunge on, obliging requests for different elements of the story of what happened on the Temptation in those final days.
I find my way back to the bar, intending to order another champagne, but I’ve barely taken a sip from the glass I already have. I can’t remember ever having champagne before, and I’m not much of a drinker to start with, but I’m not loving the taste of it. It’s too bitter, and it tastes kind of chemical-ish. Why do people drink this stuff? But I keep it in my hand anyway, just because it feels right to be holding something, and take little sips now and then to be sociable.
I text Kyle: Where are you? Then, I hear the rumbling noise of the engine and see the crew moving around on the deck. Great. They’re preparing to go, and there’s still no sign of Kyle. I’m going to be so pissed if he doesn’t show.
A man greets me—one of the guys who crewed on the Temptation on one of our trips to Catalina. I tuck my phone into my purse and talk to him for a few minutes, glancing out the window from time to time to see the crew working on the dock lines. When he pulls me over to join another group, I glance toward the gangway just as the boat begins to veer away from the dock.
I paste on a smile while the others greet me. One of the men I’ve never seen before says, “I heard a gale was blowing that night. What was it like?” and as I open my mouth to tell him, the people around me glance up and look beyond my shoulder. I turn to see what they’re looking at, and hot relief flushes through my body when I realize it’s Kyle. But then my blood immediately turns cold when I recognize the woman hanging on his arm.
Justine Lindberg.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Are you kidding me?” I demand.
It’s about half an hour later, and I’ve finally managed to drag Kyle aside. We’re standing on the deck, presumably to watch the sunset, but I’m paying no attention to the oranges and yellows and reds streaking across the sky.
Kyle cocks a brow at me. “Kidding you? About what?”
I grind my teeth. I’m not very good at hiding my emotions, but I’ve managed to so far, politely greeting Justine—even though Ethan told me to ignore her at all costs—and adding my details to Kyle’s elaborate stories of what happened on the Temptation. We’ve toasted to Nalani countless times, gone into several sniffling group hugs, and swapped Nalani-related sailing stories. I’ve focused on all that and not Justine, because Nalani deserves so much more of my attention than Justine does, but now I can’t bear it any longer.
“Don’t play dumb, Kyle. Are you kidding me about bringing Ethan’s ex here tonight? What’s this about?”
He shrugs. “She’s my date.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”
Another shrug. “We’ve been hanging out, and—”
“Wait. You’ve been hanging out?”
“Yeah.”
“How did that come to pass?”
He thrusts a hand through his blond curls. “We met in Malibu. She was at the beach when I was surfing one morning. We recognized each other and got to talking.”
“Talking? About what?”
He shrugs yet again. “Things.”
“Oh my God.” I shake my head. “I knew you had issues, Ky, but I never thought you were this immature.”
He sighs, as if I’m the one acting like a child. “There’s nothing immature about it. She’s hot. She’s rich. A match made in heaven, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, right. Like you really want her to be your sugar mama.”
“Maybe I do.”
“See? You’re being ridiculous. I don’t know what this is—some way of getting back at me, or some way to make me feel bad, or whatever, but it really sucks.”
“Seriously? What the hell makes you think you can judge who I decide to hang with?”
“When you know it’s someone I don’t want to see and who you know will make me uncomfortable? That’s what.”
“You’re full of shit.”
I gape at him for a moment. Then, I turn away, hurting for everything he and I have lost. Our friendship has gone to hell, and I don’t know how I could have stopped it.
“Whatever, Kyle,” I say quietly. “I hope you have fun with her. But please know I’m not interested in playing nice with her. Or with you right now.”
“Fine by me,” Kyle snaps, and he turns in the opposite direction.
We go our separate ways, and I blink hard to stop the tears. I head toward the bow and stand alone for a moment as we exit the harbor and the gentle ocean swells start rolling under the yacht. The cool California ocean breeze lifts my hair and sifts through it. I take out my phone and text Ethan. I wish you were here.
There’s no answer. There wasn’t any answer to my last text either.
I clutch the railing and look out across the glistening water as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon. When twilight has almost faded back into night, I’m getting cold, and my skin feels tingly, like my foot has fallen mildly asleep. But these tingles cover my whole body. It’s a weirdly nice feeling but disconcerting too. I turn around and head back into the cabin.
The party has kicked up a notch. Drinks are flowing freely, and the DJ has turned up th
e music. A dance floor has been erected in the middle of the cabin, and people are starting to dance. I head to the bar and ask the bartender for another champagne. Once again, I’m trapped out on the ocean with no means of escape. At least this time, there’s a definite end in sight. Only another few hours before I can go home.
I end up in a group of really nice people talking about future sailing adventures, and I smile and nod, even though I know there will be no more real sailing “adventures” for me. I glance around for Roger and Jim, but as promised, they’re keeping out of sight.
Above the music, I hear a raucous shout, and I look across the dance floor to where a laughing Kyle is tipping back his head and swigging down something that looks a lot like a shot of vodka.
Beside him, Justine is laughing too. She’s looking up at Kyle with such an expression of adoration I grind my teeth in annoyance. What is her game? There’s no way she’s interested in a guy like Kyle. Not only is she at least seven years older than him, but she’s sleek and elegant and refined, and Kyle’s her opposite in just about every way. I know this isn’t an opposites attract situation.
Nausea swirls in my belly, and I tighten my muscles to stanch it. The boat seems to sway around me, and I flatten my hand on a pillar to hold my balance. I check my glass, but I’ve only drunk about half the glass of champagne, and I only had one glass earlier. I feel drunker than I should on this amount of alcohol.
Across the dance floor, Justine hands Kyle another shot, and he downs it, still laughing.
I take another sip of champagne and turn to the woman who’s just greeted me. I smile and shake her hand but don’t hear her name—it sounds like water is rushing in my ears, and I can’t hear her voice very well above the sound. Two more people wander up. I never catch on to the thread of their conversation. Instead, I’m watching Kyle.
He’s drunk. Way drunk. Drunker than when he drank all that sake at the Japanese restaurant in Hawaii.
He spins in a circle with his arms spread out, as if he’s howling at the moon. Next to him, Justine laughs and applauds, and then plies him with another drink.
I gnaw on my lower lip, thinking about Justine. About how nice she’s being to him. Yeah, she was with Ethan for a long time, but she’s been nothing but nice to me and my friend. She’s making Kyle laugh in a way I haven’t seen in ages. I shouldn’t be pissed at him or at her. I should be thankful.
I decide to tell them. Right now.
I excuse myself from the group. Walking past the bar, I hesitate at it, debating whether to ask for another drink. But, no, I still haven’t quite finished this one. Anyway, I think I’m drunk enough. I don’t want to get stupid like Kyle is.
I swallow down the rest of my champagne before putting the glass down on a waiting tray and walking around the dance floor to Kyle. Keeping my balance is getting a bit tricky. The waves must have picked up outside. I’ve definitely had enough to drink.
I walk up to Justine and smile at her. Kyle is dancing as if his life depended on it. It’s kind of funny. Justine grins back at me. “Hi, Tara!” she shouts above the sound of the music. Her voice warbles and distorts in my ear.
“Your voice sounds so weird!” I exclaim.
“Thanks! I think.” She laughs.
I sidle up to her and speak loudly in her ear. “Thanks so much for taking care of Kyle tonight. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.”
She puts a friendly hand on my arm and, oh my God…it feels absolutely fantastic. I feel this crazy need to study her hand, the way her fingers are curling, the light lines on her knuckles. She has a beautiful French manicure. “Your nails are so pretty,” I tell her, still staring at her hands. She isn’t moving, but it feels amazing. I feel amazing.
I drag my eyes away from her hand and look into her smiling face. Justine’s features are sharper, more alive, than I’ve ever seen them before. I trail my gaze across the cabin, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a 3-D movie. Contrast, color, depth perception—it’s surreal. Beautiful. I must be really drunk, and I have no idea how much I drank, but at this point I don’t care.
“Wow,” I breathe.
A small part deep inside of me shouts that this is wrong. Something’s wrong. Ethan told me something important about Justine. I can’t remember it, but I should. All I can think of is that she’s so nice, I could hug her right now.
And I feel bad for her that Ethan broke up with her. I know how I’d feel if Ethan broke up with me, and I wouldn’t want anyone to experience that kind of pain. That realization makes me want to hug her all the more, and I do. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. She hugs me back, laughing softly in my ear.
“Wahooo!”
I pull back, even though the hug feels incredible, and turn to the sound. It’s Kyle. He’s howling, his arms flailing and his head swinging to the music, much faster than the beat of the music the DJ’s playing.
I’m clenching my jaw, and my facial muscles ache, so I open my mouth and close it, rubbing at the hinges of my jaw with my fingertips as I watch Kyle.
He is moving faster than he should, and worry for him blooms in my chest. I want to hug him too, and help him to settle down. I take a step toward him, and in the middle of one of his head-banger moves, he sees me. He freezes, then stumbles toward me and grabs my hands and squeezes them tight. It feels so good. Like his grip on my hands is massaging my fingers, palms, wrists, forearms, biceps, and shoulders all at once. I want to moan it feels so good. Maybe I do moan. It doesn’t matter.
“T. God, it’s so damn fucking good to see you.”
He’s so sweet. “I saw you ten minutes ago,” I remind him. Though it might have been much longer. Or shorter. Time feels weird right now.
He leans in toward me. “What’s that? I can’t hear you. Isn’t this music fucking amazing?”
I cock my head and listen. The pulse of the music calls to my body, and I sway in response. “Yeah,” I agree.
Justine comes up beside Kyle. Kyle is still a wild California boy and Justine is still elegant and beautiful, but together they make an incredible couple. Maybe they could be good together. Maybe Kyle will figure out that she’s the one.
The thought makes me kind of happy, even though a part of me knows the idea should be giving me the willies.
Willies is a funny word. It seems to wiggle around in my head, wormlike, and I laugh.
Justine whispers something in Kyle’s ear. I lean forward, but I can’t hear it, and that’s okay. Kyle looks super excited about whatever it is that she just said. His eyes grow so wide, I think they’re going to pop out of his head. “Yeah!” he exclaims. He doesn’t look at Justine, just at me, as she steps back and fades into the crowd. “It’s going to be fucking awesome!” He tugs on my hands. “Come on!”
“Where?”
“Outside. On the deck.”
That’s a great idea. I’m getting hot in here.
I let him pull me through one of the glass doors that open to the deck. He leads me toward the stern of the yacht. Once we get back there, I stop, pulling my hands away from his so I can curl them over the railing.
The smoke coming from the yacht’s exhaust…it’s beautiful. The moon is shining through it, and it looks like living fog, swirling and curling and dipping into the waves and spreading fingers out into the night. I gaze at it in rapt fascination.
Eventually, I turn to see if Kyle is finding this as wonderful as I am. But he’s not even looking. Instead, he’s standing several feet away, fumbling with a line. I squint at him. What’s he doing? My gaze follows the line to a pulley, and down some more just as a wall swings outward and a platform opens at sea level, like a reverse garage. Kyle hops down onto the platform and turns a winch that brings a Zodiac dinghy rolling out of the garage. The waves are small tonight, but the wake of the Aphrodite rolls out in giant swells angling out from back corners of the yacht.
Just as I realize what Kyle’s doing, the dinghy drops into the water. Kyle looks over at me, grinning.
“Come on!”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking her for a spin, of course,” he shouts up at me.
I waggle my finger at him. “You shouldn’t drink and drive.”
He snorts at me, then steps toward the Zodiac.
Kyle isn’t drunk. He’s different somehow. And with that realization comes the realization that I’m not drunk either. I’m something else. High? Not stoned… This is different. Way different.
My hand drops down, and my fingers curl into a fist at my side.
I’m not sober. I’m on something. I feel weirdly amazing and strong and powerful, but at the same time, I’m still capable of thinking straight.
At least I’m not afraid. I speak loudly and clearly to Kyle, who is also messed up, probably on the same thing I am. “Kyle, leave the boat alone. It’s not yours!”
“Who cares?” He gives a careless shrug. “I’ll bring it back.”
I glance around for help, but there’s no one nearby. I wonder where my bodyguards are, but I haven’t seen them in hours…or maybe minutes.
Kyle stumbles, nearly falling overboard, but instead falls to his knees, laughing so hard he’s wheezing. Still cracking up, and still on his knees in inches-deep water, he holds out his hand to me. “Come on, T!”
Shit. Shit shit shit. I need to do something. Think of something to do. I know only one thing, though. I do not want Kyle going off in the Zodiac by himself. It isn’t safe to boat under the influence—that’s the first rule of the boating world.
I can’t think of anything else to do, so I grab his hand. He pulls me down into the ankle-deep water off the back end of the Aphrodite. The water is cool, soothing to my skin. I would have happily stayed right in that spot for another hour or two, just feeling that cool water lap against my ankles, but Kyle hops into the Zodiac and pulls me in after him. He takes the seat in the back, by the engine, and I sit on the seat at the bow. Then I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not going to be driving under the influence, because there’s no way he can have the key to start the motor.
He magically produces a key from his pocket, and I blink in surprise. Geez. It’s like he planned this out. But how could that be?