by Davis, J. Q.
I held the phone away from my ear but I could still hear her. “I love—”
I pressed the end button.
I threw myself back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. There was an annoying feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t hunger.
Something wasn’t right. Was it something I did? Tristen and I hadn’t been a couple for long, but our relationship was heading into the right direction. While he was here, he showed no signs of being upset with me or having second thoughts about us.
And what the hell was up with the note! It was like breaking up with someone through email. Who does that! Tristen didn’t seem like the type of cowardly guy that would do such a thing. That alone left me more perplexed than anything.
Maybe he was breaking up with me.
And now that I thought about it, if I hadn’t gotten stupidly hungry and began smelling him as if he were my next meal, we might have consummated our flourishing relationship. Maybe he was upset that we didn’t have sex. But again, he just didn’t seem like the jerky guy who breaks up with a girl because she wouldn’t give it up. And anyway, I wasn’t going to eat him.
Who was I kidding? I could have eaten him!
Did I really think, with my uncontrollable urges, that I was going to be able to have a normal love life with a non-Zombrid? Maybe he thought long and hard about it and decided to run for the hills. Dating a girl who stared at you like a juicy hamburger probably wasn’t a good thing.
There was a knock on my door followed by a, “Grace?”
I got off the bed and opened the door to Number One. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes…I just…” I didn’t want to really tell him what was going on. Number One seemed to be the only person I would confide in at the moment, but talking about Tristen and my mom was the last thing I wanted to do. “Can we go somewhere?”
He stood up straight before answering. “Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t care.” I turned around to grab my bag before stepping into the hallway. “I just need to take a walk or something.”
I had two options: curling up in my bed and crying myself to sleep or getting out of my room. There were so many emotions going through me that I chose to not be left alone. I was crying on the inside though, because there was absolutely nothing I could do about Tristen leaving.
“Uh, okay.”
We began walking down the hall, side by side. “So, what do you do when you aren’t watching my every move?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, I either hang out in my hut or I work out.”
“Oh, you work out, huh? I thought maybe you were just born that way,” I joked. I had no doubt in my mind that he spent most of his free time in the gym. I didn’t know what he looked like underneath his perfectly tailored suits, but you could clearly tell his muscles were screaming to get out of them.
“Where is your hut anyway?” I asked curiously. The only huts I’d seen around here were the main ones.
“It’s right on the beach. You didn’t see it when you were out there yesterday?”
“No, I guess I missed it.” I had gotten a lot of information about my Zombrid ways yesterday on the beach. I guess I didn’t pay attention. “I’d like to go work out.”
Number One furrowed his brows at me, almost as if he didn’t quite understand what I said.
We entered the courtyard and I examined it only with my eyes. Destiny and the gang weren’t around, but I wasn’t looking for them. My heart pounded at the possibility of seeing Tristen.
Number One stopped to face me. “Are you sure? There are other things we could do. I could take you to one of the trails or to one of the diving sites.”
“No, I want to work out.”
He glanced at me with skepticism behind his eyes before answering. “Okay. But first we’re going to stop in Newport to get some snacks to bring with us.”
“Afraid I might get hungry and chomp down on you?” It was meant to be a joke, but I was sure he had to think about that on a daily basis. He was surrounded by Zombrids all day long. And although I was certain he could take care of himself, what with his Goliath-like features and all, I wasn’t sure if being outnumbered would bode well.
And he would be one lean piece of meat.
What the hell was I thinking? No, he wouldn’t be lean meat! He would be bad meat. Bad!
I cleared my throat, hoping to wipe that morose thought out of my now guilty mind. “So, let’s go.”
We headed over to Newport to obtain a lunch bag full of snacks. I opened up the bag to take a peek. There were small Tupperware containers filled with basically the same thing I had for breakfast that morning.
The mouthwatering aroma reached my nostrils and I sucked it in. I wasn’t hungry just yet, but I could feel my stomach threatening to growl at me soon.
We got to the trail leading to the beach. It was just past midday. The ocean seemed calmer today, brushing up against the shore at a slower pace than it had been the last couple of days.
There was something soothing about the sound of the water sliding up and down the wet sand. It reminded me of the water at the lake near my house and the gentle smacking on the steps of the lake’s edge…and of that beautiful night with Tristen.
I lowered my eyes, trying hard not to think of him.
But I guess Number one noticed my emotional state. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“You know?”
“Well, Dr. Roberson mentioned that he had to leave.”
“Did you see him leave?” I asked, desperately hoping that he did. I wanted to know what Tristen looked like as he boarded the boat. I wanted to know if he looked sad or upset or completely elated that he was finally getting away from me.
Number One frowned. “No, I didn’t see him. He left in the middle of the night.”
I didn’t respond, and we walked silently for a moment.
“Do you normally work out?” he asked, I was assuming in an attempt to lighten the situation.
“Um…you know, from time to time.”
“You’ve never worked out, have you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, we will just do some stretches and warm-ups today. Is this something you would like to do on a regular basis?”
I wasn’t quite sure, but it may have seemed like Number One was a little bit excited about my interest in exercising. He was pretty hard to read; he had an unyielding demeanor pretty much all the time. But I think maybe, just maybe there was a hint of keenness in his tone.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, we’ll see if you even like it. Exercise takes determination and motivation. If you don’t have those two, you will lose interest quick. You have to want to do it,” he explained. His deep voice was almost intimidating. Picturing him as a drill sergeant suddenly didn’t seem farfetched.
“Got it.”
I wasn’t completely sure if this was a one-time thing or not. At the moment, I just needed to take my mind off of the constant why’s floating around in there.
I never exercised before because I just never really felt like I needed to. Mom took yoga classes from time to time, but she said it was a way to relieve stress. Working out always seemed connected to losing weight in my opinion, and I didn’t feel like I needed to shed any pounds.
We walked for another minute or so before his tiny little hut came into view. And when I say tiny, I mean tiny.
I thought maybe it was the eye’s perception from the distance, but as we walked closer and closer, it didn’t get any bigger.
How the heck did he even fit in there?
However, even with its diminutive size, it was still cute. It looked exactly the same as our huts with the thatch roof and bamboo structure. Next to his little home was a sort of outdoor gym.
When he said he worked out, I was assuming there was an actual gym somewhere around here. But I guess he was the only one on the island that cared about
fitness.
“I’m going to run inside and change. Do you want something to drink?”
“Um, sure.”
“Okay, I’ll be right out. You can just wait for me right over there,” he said, pointing to where the gym equipment was.
I walked over and sat on the weight bench. There was also an exercise bike, a treadmill, a stand holding just dumbbells, and a few other machines that I didn’t know the names for. One was that thing where you sit and lift the weights while moving your arms in toward your chest, then away. Kind of like a butterfly flapping its wings.
Number One was back out in no time, handing me my bottle of…whatever the red liquid was. I studied it. “What is this?”
“Have you tried it yet?”
I looked up at him, realizing then just how enormous this man was!
Now that he was finally wearing something other than a suit, a sleeveless shirt and slinky gym shorts to be exact, I was able to confirm my suspicions. And he was the definition of fitness. His Herculean form was more than I had ever imagined. Every muscle in his arm was beyond well-defined, so much so that I could physically see and name each one if I wanted to. There was no way that he could bring his arms closer to his torso while he walked; the size would just not allow it.
His shorts landed just above his knees, but I could tell his thighs were as solid as his arms. And his calves were big enough for me to maybe draw a picture on them.
He was a beast.
I quickly shut my mouth when I realized it was hanging open. “Uh…no, I haven’t yet.”
“You should try it. The others like it. I keep it around just in case someone needs one.”
I opened the cap and took a swig. The thick, scarlet fluid slid down my throat smoothly. As soon as my mind registered the taste, I knew instantly what it was. And before I could take it away from my mouth to protest, the bottle was empty.
“Do you like it?” he grunted as he swung a dumbbell in each hand up to his chest. I was almost certain they weighed more than me.
Guilt washed over me. Great. Not only did I love eating human and animal flesh, I apparently fancied blood too. You could add vampire to my long list of credentials.
I ignored his question. “So, where should I start?”
He set the dumbbells back on the stand and walked over to the bike. “Well, you can start on the bike. Loosen up your legs a bit. Stationary bike training is a great way to get a cardiovascular workout. It’s a good way to start if you plan on working out on a regular basis.”
I placed my bag in the sand and walked over to him. I couldn’t remember the last time I rode a bike. Although this bike wasn’t going anywhere, it was kind of nice to be on one again.
I sat down, resting my feet on the pedals and my hands on the handlebars.
Number One placed a hand on my chest (just above my boobs) and a hand on my back and pushed. “You’ve got to maintain a good posture while you workout. Keep your back straight and your abs tight,” he informed me.
I did what I was told, feeling an urge to say, “Yes, Sir”.
He left me to do my thing while he moved over to the weight bench. He laid back and lifted the bar up above his head, not flinching one bit as he maneuvered it up and down above his chest.
I peered out into the ocean.
Wow.
I completely understood why he would want his gym equipment to be outside, besides the fact that he probably couldn’t fit it in his Smurf hut. It was absolutely stunning to watch the light from the sun reflect off the crystal clear water that twinkled in the distance.
The view mixed with the warm breeze dancing through my hair made me feel like I was filming one of those fitness shows that came on early in the morning.
Number One had a nice set up here.
“What’s your name?” I felt like an idiot asking him what his name was after all this time, but I was getting tired of calling him Number One in my thoughts.
He continued lifting the bar up and down about five more times before answering. His feelings were perhaps hurt.
Geez, I was a horrible person. This man was probably trained to stand in front of a bullet for me, and I didn’t even know his name.
He sat up and reached for a white towel to wipe away the beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Vito.”
Good Lord! If this man wasn’t Italian, then I didn’t know what was. Scenes from the movies Casino and The Godfather flashed before my eyes. And the more I stared at him in that moment, the more I could see him cast in one of them. He really did look like an Italian mobster.
“So, Italian?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Yes.”
“Are you from Italy?”
“No, but I have family there. I’m from New York.”
That was kind of surprising. I didn’t hear the usual accent from up there.
I nodded once and looked away, trying to think of another question regarding his personal life before the subject was changed. “How did you end up here?”
He walked over to the weight stand again and picked up a dumbbell. He then lifted it up over his head and laid it on his back, pulling it up and down behind him.
“You want the full story?”
Um, yes please! Number One…er…Vito, barely even spoke. To hear him utter more than two sentences at a time would be a treat.
“Sure,” I mumbled, trying to mask my eagerness.
“I was in the Corps for four years. Served in Desert Storm. When I got out, I met my wife and we got married. Had a kid not long after. I joined the Academy and ran the street beat for a while. Met a group of guys who were into diving and decided the try it out.”
“Diving near Cocos Island was a dream that we decided to make real. And that’s when I met Dr. Roberson.”
It was as if he had told this story a million times before, and was just tired of telling it. But I really doubted anyone would ask him about his life. The only people I have ever seen him speak to were Dr. Roberson and I.
The questions were building and building inside me. “You were a cop.” This was more of a confirmation.
“Yes.”
“And you came here to dive, which was when you met Dr. Roberson.”
“Yes. We met and just started talking. He mentioned he needed security for his facility, so I took the offer.” He moved over to the weight bench again and laid back.
“You just decided to pick up and leave America? What about your wife and kid?” There must have been a divorce, because Cocos Island wasn’t a hop, skip, and a jump away. And even then, he must have to travel often to see his kid.
When Vito didn’t answer right away, and the speed in which he was lifting the bar of weights over his chest increased, I knew something wasn’t right.
He lifted one more time, holding the bar high above him for a moment before setting it back on its rest. He sat up and leaned forward, wiping his forehead with the towel again. It actually looked like the wind was sucked right out of him.
And then…he finally answered. “They died.”
Lovely. Of course I had to be the one to drum up dark thoughts in someone who clearly walked around every day with sad memories and the weight of a thousand tons on his shoulders. This explained so much of how Vito carried himself. He was in pain. Constantly.
I was expecting the conversation to end right then and there, but shockingly he continued.
“It was a car accident. Drunk driver ran them off the road.”
My chest sunk in, and I fought the urge to go over and give him a hug. His sentences were so short, but there was so much meaning behind them.
I tried to look him in the eyes, but his head was hanging low. This man lost his wife and his child within the span of a single day. And although he was so severe and serious the majority of the time, I knew all along that somewhere deep down inside him was a simple, loving man. Maybe even a teddy bear.
“How old was your…” I knew asking this question may cross some emotional bo
undaries for him, but I wanted to know more about him now than ever before.
“My daughter. She was twelve. It was five years ago.”
Holy crap! I was twelve five years ago! She would have been my age. Vito could have been my father.
He stood up and headed toward the treadmill.
I kept pedaling my way to nowhere as I watched him begin jogging with his perfect posture. His eyes focused intently on what was in front of him, but I knew he couldn’t actually see anything. He was remembering his life with his wife and his daughter.
Of course, the sincere part of me wanted to know her name. Maybe somehow I could reminisce about his daughter with him so he wouldn’t feel alone. But I didn’t ask. He had already revealed so much to me, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was a grueling task for a man like him to show his emotions.
Instead, we continued our workout together that day and the months that followed.
Chapter 9
The Birthday
Every day that I woke up in my comfy bed, it took me a moment to remember exactly where I was. It was still almost unbelievable, even after months of being here, that I decided to pick up and leave everything I knew. Everything that was home, that was familiar and comfortable and easy. Well, I wouldn’t say that the days leading up to my departure were exactly easy. They were horrible actually. There wasn’t a passing day that I didn’t think about Phoebe and Eric and my mother, even through getting acquainted with my fellow Zombrids and the food and Everlasting Paradise in general.
As for Tristen, I hadn’t heard a single word from him. Not a text message, an email, a phone call…nothing. I tried calling him, but it would either go straight to voicemail or ring till it did. I tried calling his parents to be sure that he, at the very least, made it back to the States safely, but they seemed to have been avoiding me as well.
When I spoke to Mom, I asked her to check up on Tristen for me. The only information she could get was that they were moving, and that was only because she went to their house and saw the For Sale sign.
I still wasn’t really on speaking terms with my mother, but I spoke to her at least once a week. Yes, I was still upset with her. But I figured, out of respect, she should at least know that her daughter was doing okay.