The West Wind

by Morgan Douglas

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  “Goodnight, Xander.”

  Xander hauled himself up the stairs to the cupola room after stripping down to his boxers and drying off in the bathroom. Towel wrapped around his waist, he flipped on the light as he entered. He gritted his teeth as it flickered before coming on. Replacing all the old cloth wrapped wiring in the house was not one of the projects he was excited about. He stood for a moment looking out the window at all the lights of the town. The city looked like someone had taken a mirror out to reflect the night sky. Out to sea in the dark, the green and red lights of a passing cargo ship flashed. On the island in the bay, directly across from the Brighton House, one house was lit like a palace. Emotionally drained and exhausted from a long day, Xander shrugged at the opulence and threw the towel over the back of the lone chair in his room. After digging his iPod and one of his favorite books, C.S. Lewis’ A Horse and His Boy, out of his suitcase, he climbed into bed and opened up its familiar pages. Live, his mother’s favorite band, blasted into his ears.

  Haunted House

  The six friends sat and stood spread out around Jaimie’s living room. Hero couldn’t drive home until the next low tide. It was inconvenient, but those who owned homes on the island enjoyed the privacy and display of wealth it took just to make it to and from the town proper. Hero often stayed with Jaimie on nights when the boat wasn’t available and the tide was in.

  Jeremy poured himself a glass of whiskey from Jaimie’s parent’s liquor cabinet in spite of her half-hearted protests. Evan, Jaimie, and Leana all sat at the dining table while Brian whirled on a stool at the breakfast bar. Hero stood by a window staring out at the bay. She was still livid, though her emotions churned constantly. Her thoughts went back to the first time she met the strange boy’s eyes, then to the dance itself and her heart raced. Then she remembered how close she came to kissing a complete stranger, who turned out to be a complete asshole, and wanted to slap him all over again. It did not help that her friends would not stop talking about it.

  “That was so hot, though,” Leana gushed.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I didn’t even know you could have sex with your clothes on before tonight.”

  “Shut up, Jer,” Jaimie commanded. He made a gesture of confused innocence with both hands, ice sloshing in his glass.

  “Do we even know his name?” Brian asked.

  “Adonis?” Jaimie offered. Evan glared at her. “What’s it matter, anyway?” she asked. “He was with the band, so we’ll probably never see him again anyway.”

  “God, I hope so,” Hero interjected without turning around. She wasn’t certain it was true.

  “Nah,” Evan returned, “I don’t think they were expecting him to be there. The singer looked surprised to see him.”

  “Do you think he’ll come to Hellespont again?” Leana asked a little too hopefully.

  “A dancer like that? I bet he can’t stay away. We can’t stay away and none of us are anywhere near as good,” Brian said.

  “Are you sure you don’t wish you’d been the one dancing with him, Brian?” Jeremy asked.

  “Are you sure you want to keep pushing, Jeremy? I’ll kick your ass,” he said playfully.

  “Oh, ho. Bring it, girly-boy. You should learn to follow. You and Adonis could do the Brokeback ballet.” Jeremy put his glass down and opened his arms wide. Brian charged across the room and tackled him. Jaimie rolled her eyes and walked over to take Hero’s hand.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Hero?” she asked for umpteenth time.

  “I’m fine,” Hero said coldly.

  “You don’t sound okay.”

  Hero turned on her friend angrily. “You’re right. I’m not. I got whisked onto the dance floor, had the best dance of my life, almost kissed someone whose name I don’t even know, got rejected, and dropped. He said I was easy. I am hardly ok.”

  The boys wrestling on the floor stopped. The silence became a tangible thing. It grew heavier, then awkward. Four of them squirmed beneath the weight of it. Finally, Evan stood up. “Ah, I think it’s time to go. Guys?” he asked. They nodded and disentangled themselves. “Leana, you need a ride?”

  Leanna nodded as well. “Yeah, let me grab my purse.”

  They all said goodnight in turn and left. Hero turned back to the window, not wanting to look Jaimie in the eye. Jaimie put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hero, I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”

  “Yeah. Jeremy’s stupid comment didn’t help any. Now I just feel dirtier.”

  “That’s just Jeremy, you know how he is. He’d have your back if you needed him.”

  “That doesn’t help me now,” Hero said, emphasizing now.

  Jaimie pulled her around into a hug. Hero hugged her back, tightly. She sobbed a little, more from the exhaustive emotions than any one thing in particular. Jaimie stiffened suddenly and Hero pulled away from her.

  “What is it?”

  “No one lives at the Brighton House, right?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then why are the lights on?” Jaimie pointed.

  “What?” Hero turned to look. There, at the top of the cupola, light beamed out of every window like a beacon, almost as if someone had intended it to function as a lighthouse. “But that’s,” she paused as a chill trickled down her back. “Impossible.”

  “Not anymore,” Jaimie said.

  Revelation

  The next morning Hero met her mother, Anna DiBenedetto, for coffee at Ambrosia, a local coffee shop on the boardwalk. In spite of the Starbucks located almost right across the way, the café was filled with customers, both locals and tourists. Hero spent a lot of time there, especially during the school year. It was her favorite place to study. This morning she was trading her mother her car keys for the boat keys and indulging in the comfort of a soy Mayan mocha. She was already seated, sipping slowly on her drink and savoring its warmth when her mother arrived.

  “Hi, Mom.” Hero stood and hugged her mother lightly. Anyone watching would have noticed that it was cursory at best.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun last night?”

  “Oh, sure,” Hero said half-heartedly, trying not to remember the events of the night before. “Did you want coffee?”

  “No. No thank you, dear. I have to meet Victoria Landon for brunch soon and I don’t want to ruin my appetite. Oh! Speaking of Victoria Landon,” Anna said, obviously excited about the latest gossip, as always. Hero knew her mother would be here for a while. She sat back down and Anna slid into the chair across from her almost in unison, talking the whole time.

  “Victoria was telling me that she finally sold that terrible old Brighton House you loved so much as a child. I’ll never understand what you liked about it. Ancient ruin, if you ask me. Should have been torn down years ago.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Hero breathed.

  “Anyway,” Anna DiBenedetto continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Victoria says that the handsomest man and his gorgeous son bought the place. Apparently they want to restore it themselves. He used to be some kind of big time contractor in Seattle until his wife died. It was terribly tragic. Cancer, I think. Or maybe MS. I can’t remember.”

  Hero’s face darkened a little.

  “I know, I know,” Anna said without stopping for a breath. “It’s terribly sad. Can you imagine, two single men living in that giant wreck by themselves? And wanting to fix up the whole place, without help? Especially since it has to be done perfectly according to those simply infuriating plans that National Registery place is so attached to. It’s awfully strange, but I guess that is what that kind of loss will do to a man.”

  “Yeah, I think I met the son last night at the dance,” Hero finally had a chance to say.

  “Oh really? What did you think?” Anna practically pounced on her daughter’s words. “Was he as gorgeous as Victoria says? Was he nice? You’ve been single for far too long, Hero. You should see if he’s lookin
g for a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to do that.” Hero’s tone matched her expression.

  Her mother looked crestfallen. “Oh why not dear? You’re young, but I was dating long before I turned 17 and you’re almost 18 now. I know the local boys aren’t good enough for you, but if this one is really that good looking and has money, it can’t hurt to try.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with that,” Hero said, anger creeping into her voice.

  Anna stood up. “Don’t get huffy with me, young lady. I’m just trying to look out for my only daughter and the light of my life. You can’t blame me for wanting good things for you.”

  “Mom,” Hero moaned. “It’s not you. Look. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I’ll find the right guy someday. I just don’t think it will be him.”

  “Fine, fine.” Her mother switched tones as quickly as race car driver switches gears, suddenly companionable again. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I won’t have anyone say I’m one of those pushy mothers who won’t let their daughters have any privacy. Just know you can talk to me if you need to.”

  Hero tried not to let her mother see exactly what she thought of THAT idea. “Thanks, Mom. Hey, aren’t you going to be late for brunch?”

  Anna looked at the gold and diamond watch on her delicate wrist. “Oh, my. Look at the time. Are you sure you don’t want to talk, honey? Victoria won’t mind if I cancel.”

  Her daughter could tell from her voice that that was the last thing she wanted to do. She sighed and told her mother, “No, it’s ok, really. You go ahead. I’m going to go home and spend some time tanning. Let it all sink out of me.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t tan so much. It’s terrible for your skin. I’m amazed you don’t burn terribly, you know. I mean, look at me. I’d look like a boiled lobster in a second out in that sun.” She slid her porcelain-toned hand onto Hero’s for comparison. “Too much, I tell you. You be careful. You don’t want skin cancer.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You should go.” Hero tried to sound cheerful.

  “Oh, you’re right, of course you are. That’s my angel. Have a wonderful day, cherub.” Anna kissed her daughter on the top of her head and wafted her way out the door. Hero collapsed back into her chair, determined to enjoy as much of her coffee as she could before it got cold. It was too late. Today was not looking much better than the night before.

  * * *

  Xander wandered through Sears while his dad talked to a salesman about refrigerators. In his head he made an attempt to calculate how much money the store was wasting on power using fluorescent lighting. It was made harder by his uncertainty about how much electricity cost per kilowatt hour in the area and the pleasantly obnoxious hope that every time he saw a woman that she might turn out to be the girl from last night. He could still feel her against him, feel how she moved with him, and he swore his cheek still stung a little where she slapped him.

  “Hey, can I help you find something?” one of the store’s employees asked for the second time. She was tall, but not as tall as his 6’5”. 5’ 10”, perhaps. Her red hair cascaded wildly down her shoulder, as though she had just been thoroughly mussed and understood that it improved her appeal rather than lessened it. Blue eyes smiled up at him from a pale face with soft, red lips. His first thought was that she could give Jessica Rabbit a run for her money. Then he saw her name tag. Jessica. How apt.

  “Other than me, I meant,” she said, laughing and twirling her hair around one finger. Then she paused. “Hey, aren’t you that guy from Hellespont? The one who dropped Hero DiBenedetto on her stuck up, snobby ass?”

  Xander sighed. It wasn’t exactly the first impression he wanted to be remember for. May as well make the most of it. “Yeah. If you’d rather, I’m the one she slapped around,” he joked.

  Jessica shook her head. “I like my version better. Makes you the hero instead of her.”

  Her name is Hero? Xander thought. “Whoever loved that loved not at first sight?” he said under his breath.

  “What was that?” the girl asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just a line from a poem you reminded me of.”

  “I remind you of a poem?” she asked, stepping closer and filling Xander’s nose with the scent of her. Clean and rich, without perfume. It reminded him of his mother, though something was missing.

  “Ah, sort of,” he said to appease her. “Anyway, your name is Jessica?”

  “Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot we hadn’t met. Yeah, I’m Jessica. You are?”

  “Xander. It’s nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and lingered as they let go.

  “You too,” she said. “Umm. . . hey, I’ve got to get back to work. But I get off at 5. Buy me coffee?”

  Xander laughed. He liked her confidence. “Sure, I’d like that. I don’t really know anyone here. Do you want to give me your number?”

  Jessica winked at him. “No. If you show up, I will,” she said in a coy voice.

  “Where should I meet you?”

  “There’s a coffee shop on the boardwalk called Ambrosia. Think you can find it?”

  “Easy enough to remember. I’ll see you there.”

  “See you!” she said as she turned away down an aisle.

  Zach walked up as she left. “You done shopping, son?” he asked with a grin. “I don’t think that one would be much good for keeping anything cold.”

  “Dad, stick to poetry.” Xander said. “You’re a better poet than jester,” he joked.

  “I have gesture for you, rapscallion!”

  “Yeah,” Xander said blandly, letting the banter fall away as he changed the subject. “Did you get the fridge?”

  “Indeed. They’ll deliver it later. Unless you wanted to do that yourself, too.”

  “No, I’m good. Let’s go finish your library so we can sleep in bedrooms with double-paned windows before summer is over.”

  “Alas, books are wonderful companions, but not so good at keeping you warm.”

  “Unless we’re talking Fahrenheit 451.”

  “Speak not such vulgarity, my child!”

  “Oh, forgive me, Father, if I have sinned.”

  “Speaking of sin, that young lady. . .”

  Xander interrupted him. “We were leaving, right?”

  Zach laughed. “Yes, let’s.”

  Complications

  A rush of cool air ran over Xander as he pushed open the door to the café. His nose was filled with the nutty aroma of fresh ground coffee. Inside, Ambrosia was lit softly to enhance the atmosphere. He stepped in onto a mat over a tile floor. Café style seating with wire backed chairs and tables filled the tiled area until it gave way to a carpeted floor. Random couches, recliners, easy chairs, and coffee tables cluttered the carpeted area comfortably. Tall bookshelves created a short partition wall between the café and living room styled sections. Paintings and photographs by local artists hung on the walls. The coffee shop was full, but not crowded, and conversation buzzed lightly over soft music. He was 15 minutes early, since his father had instilled in all his employees and his son the same appreciation for punctuality. In Zachariah McConnell’s world, if you weren’t 15 minutes early, you were late.

  From one of the couches in the back, Jaimie looked up and saw the tall, handsome young man come in. “Oh, look. If it isn’t Adonis,” she said snidely to Leana, who sat on the couch beside her drinking chai. Leana brightened up noticeably and looked around.

  “Really? Where?” she asked, her voice bubbly.

  “Over there, come on,” Jaimie ordered.

  “Wait, where are we going?”

  “To talk to him. Honestly, how are you not blonde?” Jaimie grabbed Leana by the wrist and dragged her off the couch, almost spilling the chai as Leana hurried to put it down on the coffee table.

  Xander was standing in the doorway looking at the bookshelves and thinking about what renovations he would make to use the space better when a blonde girl with a mission stalked up to him, trai
ling a tiny brunette behind her. They looked vaguely familiar.

  “You,” the blonde accused.

  “Me,” Xander replied, bemused.

  “You’re in big trouble, asshole,” she informed him.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  “I’m Leana!” the brunette said excitedly, apparently oblivious to the tension. “We were at the dance last night.”

  “Nice to meet you, Leana,” Xander said. “I’m. . .”

  Jaimie interrupted before he could introduce himself. “We don’t care who you are. You pissed off my friend and you called her a slut.”

  Before Xander could answer, Jessica slipped her arm through his from behind and joined the conversation. He jumped, a little startled.

  “Did he?” Jessica beamed up at him. “And here I was, already happy enough that he was the one male man enough to drop her on her precious ass instead of panting over her like a drooling dog.”

  “Jessica,” Jaimie said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on a date, obviously,” the redhead answered, leaning against Xander’s arm.

  “A date?” Leana and Jaimie said together incredulously.

  “Yes. And it keeps getting better and better.”

  “I didn’t actually call her a slut,” Xander said, trying hopelessly to defend himself.

  “You said she was easy,” Jaimie pointed out, a statement rather than a question.

  Jessica smiled evilly. “Did you now? My hero,” she said and squeezed his arm possessively with one hand. Her eyes widened in wicked delight, intentionally sharing with the other girls. “Ooo,” she cooed.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Xander said, missing the exchange. “Would you tell her. . .”

  “Whatever,” Jaimie interrupted. “Come on Leana, we’re leaving.”