Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three

by Jennifer Evans

  If I was going to have a relationship with Rosalyn, then that meant no lies. No lies about my past and the male escort business, no lies about what had happened on my big wave wipeout at Todos Santos.

  I knew she wasn’t going to be thrilled, but I finally picked up the phone to call her.

  “Hey baby. How were the waves?” she said.

  “Hi sweetheart. First I want to know how you’re feeling.”

  “Oh you know, more broccoli juice. And missing you. Everything okay?”

  “Things are fantastic. Rosalyn, I have something to tell you … I saw Tyler.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t get upset.”

  “Why would I get upset? What’s wrong?”

  “Well … I wiped out pretty bad—”

  “What!” she shrieked. “Oh my God, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

  I could hear Rosalyn softly crying, and I wanted to embrace her. “I’m fine. I just took off on a wave I shouldn’t have and—”

  “No! You have to get back to me. I have to see you for myself. What happened?”

  “I took off on this wave, and Rosalyn, I have the most amazing story to tell you.” And I told her the whole story while she listened, her silence punctuated by small sobs. By the end of my story, which I didn’t expect anyone to believe, she was crying and barely able to talk. “You believe me, don’t you? I saw Tyler.”

  Her voice was hoarse. “Oh baby, of course I believe you.” She chuckled. “Of all the people to ask? Of course I believe you.” Rosalyn’s breath was ragged. “When will you be back?”

  “In the morning.”

  Her voice was practically a shriek. “I can’t wait that long! I have to see you right now.” She let out a moan. “Oh God, I can’t lose you.”

  “It’s late, you’ll be fine, and I’ll see you early—”

  “I can’t even. Oh, my God, where’s my bong?” Rosalyn began to giggle uncontrollably. “You saw Tyler; you almost drowned.” She dissolved into giggles.

  Rosalyn needed to get a grip. “Rosalyn! Listen to me. We both need a good night’s sleep. I promise I’ll be back at first light.” I really did need to recover, and there was no point in making my way through the drunken streets of Tijuana until morning. “Roz, I’m fine. We’ll be together in a few hours. Just relax, drink some of that great juice, and maybe get another enema.” I tried to lighten things up. “You want me to give you one when I see you?”

  Her giggling subsided. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Her voice was tentative. “I don’t know how much I’ll sleep tonight. Get back here as soon as it’s light out.”

  I clutched my sore head. “Roz, are you going to be okay?”

  “Oh honey, I’ll survive the night.” She took a deep breath and exhaled into the phone. “I’m going to send you positive vibrations after we hang up the phone. I even packed some of my crystals. I’ll do a healing ceremony.”

  I was supposed to be the one taking care of her. We spoke for a few more minutes and finally hung up.

  I walked into the bathroom. My wetsuit, booties, and malfunctioning flotation vest were lying in a heap in the bathtub. Next to them was my Love Bone T-shirt. I picked it up and held it to my face, and I swear I felt an electric shock followed by a vision of my brother’s smiling face. I gently rinsed the T-shirt in the sink and hung it to dry.

  I had come within seconds of dying. But I had seen Tyler.

  * * *

  I returned to the Trinity Clinic and found Rosalyn waiting for me in the reception area. When she saw me, she ran toward me, her eyes crazed, and started doing an inventory of my body, feeling all over as though she could find broken bones, or maybe she was just checking to see if I was still solid and really and truly there.

  “Jax,” Rosalyn said, holding me by the shoulders and looking in my eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful next time.” She knew there would be a next time because Rosalyn understood that big wave surfing was my passion, my life. “Were you wearing your flotation vest?”

  “Yes. But it didn’t work.”

  And then she started sobbing uncontrollably. “I can’t lose you,” she choked out in between sobs. I held her close to me as she let the waves of sadness wash through her. She sobbed, and her body shook. I got her a tissue, which she gratefully took to blow her nose.

  When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. “Jax?”

  “What is it?” I soothed, gently pushing her hair away from her face.

  “I know I’ve never told you this before, but … I love you.”

  My heart expanded with love and passion and the rightness of it all. “I love you too, Rosalyn. You are the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about.” We kissed. It was a passionate kiss that was filled with awe, respect, and the feeling that the two of us were meant to be together. I didn’t want to be with any other woman in the world. Rosalyn was the love of my life.

  A few of the Trinity practitioners and the young man with lymphoma saw us and applauded.

  Then Rosalyn gave me what sounded like a very well-rehearsed line. She looked me straight in the eye, her lower lip trembling, and said, “I guess we’re going to have to get you back out there on those big waves.”

  Rosalyn

  When we returned to Pleasure Point, everything felt and looked vibrant. The electric blue ocean pounded the shore, the scent of salt mixed with honeysuckle perfumed the air.

  I couldn’t wait to see Eugene. We had coordinated our timing and Nelson’s parents had dropped him off at home. When we pulled into the driveway, there he was, waiting on the front porch. “Mommy!” he yelled as he raced into my waiting arms and hugged me tight. “Mommy, I mean, mom, are you okay?”

  My throat tightened as I hugged my son. “Yes, sweetie, I’m fine. Oh, let me look at you.” I held him at arm’s length. “I’ve missed you, baby.” I squeezed his body against mine again, wanting to never let go.

  After I unpacked my suitcase, Jax told me to relax and put up my feet while he and Eugene planned dinner. Eugene dashed into the kitchen to make a list of the ingredients for our vegetarian feast—Trinity approved vegan chili, a salad—and for me, an extra large fresh vegetable juice.

  I sat on the porch swing and called Carissa to tell her we were home. When she answered, her voice was tender. “How are you feeling Roz? Did those Trinity people treat you right?”

  My bare feet swung in the afternoon breeze. “I’m feeling a lot better than I thought I would. The first week was rough but Jax got me through. I don’t think I could’ve dealt with those detox symptoms without his support.”

  “Pretty bad, huh?”

  “You don’t want the gory details.” I was determined to remain positive. I didn’t want to remember the awful headaches and nausea. “I’m feeling hopeful.”

  Carissa was quiet for a moment. “How are things going with you and Jax?”

  I smiled. “You know what he did? He made me the sweetest present.” I told her all about the shadow box.

  Carissa practically swooned. “What a considerate thing to do. He actually put that together? Sounds to me like a keeper.”

  My heart expanded with happiness. “Guess what? I finally told him I loved him.”

  I could practically hear her clap her hands together. “Oh, Rosalyn, that’s great! You deserve something good in life. You think you two will tie the knot?”

  The unspoken words were that no one knew how long I’d be around. “I don’t know. We’ll take it one moment at a time.” We fell silent.

  I didn’t tell Carissa about what happened to Jax at Todos Santos. When he told me about the wipeout and his NDE, the shock that sliced through me felt like the grim reaper’s sickle. All those years that I thought I didn’t need Jax I had been fooling myself, lying to myself about what we shared. Did it really take almost losing him to make me realize that I couldn’t imagine life without Jax?

 
Carissa said, “I think it’s sweet the way he’s fallen right into being a dad. I’m so happy this is working out. When do I get to meet him?”

  “Whenever you make a trip to Santa Cruz. We’ll be here.” But I didn’t know if that was entirely true. My future was uncertain. I stared out at the ocean. The healing benefits calmed me as I took a deep cleansing breath. I had to remain optimistic. The two people I cared about most in the world were counting on me.

  We spoke for a few more minutes and when we hung up, I closed my eyes and sent a prayer of thanks to the Universe for my family and friends.

  Over the next few days, we settled back into life in Pleasure Point. I planned on doing everything the practitioners at the Trinity program recommended for my follow-up lifestyle changes, juicing and eating organic, fresh foods. Eugene said that some of the juices tasted a bit suspicious, but others were yummy.

  Jax was mostly interested in teasing me with Trinity jokes. “Do I get to learn to give you those coffee enemas?”

  I swatted him and said, “That, Mr. Priest, is something I think I’ll do for myself. But, if you want to spice things up …”

  “Regular or decaf?” he said.

  We smiled at each other.

  Toward the end of our first week back in Santa Cruz, Jax and I were lying in bed when he told me he was ready to sell Tyler’s house. “I don’t want to leave you.” He gazed into my eyes. “I can postpone the trip to Twentynine Palms a while, but I need to meet with a realtor soon.” His blue eyes searched mine. “Will you be okay for a couple of days?”

  “Of course. I’ve got Eugene. He’s not a baby anymore, you know.”

  “My son will protect you.” He beamed, but then seemed to hesitate. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

  Jax hadn’t mentioned anything about the twenty grand he needed for repayment of his former employer, and I didn’t ask. “Yes, my bodyguard. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll get a flight out in the next couple days and be back before you know it.” We were home, the three of us, together. When I fell asleep, Leo curled up on the bed, Jax’s athletic body pressed against mine, the ocean breeze gently wafting through my open bedroom window and Eugene sleeping in the next room, I wanted to stop time.

  I wanted to live.

  I prayed that my body would heal.

  Only time would tell.

  Jax

  A week after we returned from Mexico, I took an early morning flight to Palm Springs, rented a car, and made the forty-eight mile drive through the desert to Tyler’s home in Twentynine Palms.

  It was finally time to sell it.

  The dry, desert air ruffled my hair through the open window, and I inhaled deeply. The landscape drifted past: spiny Joshua trees, red-rock boulders, tumbleweeds, and the occasional roadrunner that raced in front of my rental car. On the occasions when I’d visited Tyler in Twentynine Palms, I’d enjoyed a deep sense of tranquility. Tyler’s oasis.

  I needed every bit of peace I could find for my phone call to Sandy.

  I rolled up the window and punched in Sandy’s contact information. Her voice was syrupy sweet when she answered. “Well, hello handsome. Are you calling to tell me you’ve got my money?”

  I cleared my throat. “Not exactly, but I’ll have it soon.”

  A long pause filled the airwaves. “And when exactly is soon? Did you win your surfing contest? I’ve been checking Facebook and haven’t seen a thing about it.”

  “No, I didn’t win the contest, but I’m on my way to list my house in the desert. When I sell it I’ll—”

  “The desert? Jax, do you know how long it’s going to take to sell a house in the desert? Nobody wants to live out there. I suppose next you’ll tell me this property’s in one of those barren crack head neighborhoods?”

  The fact that the house had been Tyler’s was none of Sandy’s business. I was confident that because the house had belonged to him it would sell quickly. “It’s in an upscale neighborhood. I won’t have trouble selling it.”

  “Where exactly is this place?”

  “Twentynine Palms.”

  “Who the hell wants to live out there? Who’s going to buy it? Somebody on a government stipend?” She exhaled audibly. “I’m giving you exactly one more week to list and sell this thing. I’ve already given you long enough. I want names of prospective buyers and you need to tell me exactly what you’re doing to sell this place. I assume you have a good realtor?”

  No way was I going to share that kind of personal information with Sandy. She could take it or leave it. I stared at white knuckles. “Yes, Sandy, I have a great realtor. I think you need to give me credit for doing everything I can to get you the money.”

  Her voice practically purred. “You know babe, there’s another way out of this. I can make it real easy for you. Remember how steamy we are together? I know I do. As a matter of fact, I get all hot and bothered thinking about your gorgeous cock and what you could do to make amends.”

  I rolled the window down and took a deep breath of desert air. “Sandy, I’m flattered, really. But I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to get your money. I’ll have it soon, I know I will. I know you’re mad at me, but I really want you to know how much I appreciate the loan.”

  “Damn it, Jax, you better not be messing with me. I plan on hearing from you within the week.” The line went dead.

  I stared at my phone. Gripping the steering wheel, I watched the desert landscape flow past. Would Sandy go to the surf community? Would she call Butch? Would she somehow track me down in Pleasure Point and approach Rosalyn? Or worse, Eugene? I didn’t know. Her venomous attitude surprised me. Did I honestly think we were friends? I was an employee. Nothing more.

  My foot pressed down on the accelerator as I drove the long stretch of Twentynine Palms Highway, through Yucca Valley and the town of Joshua Tree, and finally made the right turn at the Denny’s in Twentynine Palms, which marked the final leg before Tyler’s neighborhood.

  I shook off all thoughts of Sandy and turned my mind to Tyler.

  I trusted that Tyler’s last days had been happy. After my near-death experience or NDE, I had a different outlook on life, and especially on Tyler’s death. I knew I had to open myself to all of my emotions.

  I also had to let go of the past.

  I’d scheduled an appointment with the area’s top realtor, but arrived early so that I’d have time alone in Tyler’s place. I parked my car in front of the tidy, one-story, ranch-style home surrounded by a split-rail fence and an assortment of fruit trees, flowering cactus, and Joshua trees.

  The place was just as I remembered it with the exception of the shrine that had been set up out front. Amazingly, it was still maintained by fans. There were flowers, candles, balloons, homemade signs, cards, photos of Tyler, and even an old acoustic guitar. I smiled at how loved my brother had been by people who’d never even met him.

  Inside, the place was just as he’d left it; the cozy stone fireplace, the overstuffed furniture with its sheepskin throws. Framed posters from Love Bone rock concerts hung on the walls. I smiled at Tyler’s image. My brother had always been photographed in the center of the band, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. A management company maintained the home, coming in to clean once in a while, but otherwise, I’d been against even renting it out, though that meant no income to cover the taxes and other expenses. My grief wouldn’t allow the thought of anyone invading my brother’s space.

  I strolled through the home, the red tile floor cool on my bare feet, and I soaked in the feeling of my brother. When I entered the kitchen, I stopped and gazed out the window at the vibrant Joshua Trees, their cactus arms raised heavenward in supplication. Before my near-death experience, plants and trees had always seemed like, well, like plants and trees. But, now, I could feel them breathing with life. I opened the window, and a gust of warm dry air filled the kitchen along with the cries of desert cactus wren. The sun slanted through the window, but where I stood, the spot felt cold. I loo
ked down at my feet, and found a black guitar pick touching my toes. I bent over and picked it up. One side bore the Love Bone logo. I turned it over and saw that the reverse side had been engraved with Tyler’s name. That was when I felt heat shoot up my spine and envelop my entire being with a feeling of love. I turned the guitar pick over and over in my hand then tucked it safely into my jeans pocket, wiping a tear from my face.

  Selling the house was the right thing to do.

  “A hui ho,” I said out loud.

  When I entered Tyler’s dining room, an easel was set up with a canvas that Tyler had been painting. It was an oil painting of a wave, done in vibrant cerulean blues and stark white. My fingers ran across the canvas, the clumps of oil paint bumpy underneath my fingers, and I marveled at my brother’s creativity. His real talent was in music, but he could never keep himself from anything creative, like painting, gardening or putting together photos. I used to tease him mercilessly about being so sensitive, while I prided myself on being the athlete in the family. Now I wished I hadn’t teased him so much. But that’s what we did because it was our code for I love you. The painting and the pick were the only things in that house that I took with me.

  I agreed to list the house at $425,000. Once it sold, that would be a start, but I still needed to get serious about making a living. Rosalyn and Eugene needed me, and if it ended up being just Eugene and me, I would need to support my son. I squeezed my eyes shut to ward off the vision of life without Rosalyn, but I was ready to raise Eugene.