Tonight

by Nana Malone

  “Can we leave? I mean go.” She looked around at the vast open sea. He touched her chin with his finger and turned her face to look at him. The luminance from the control panel made his mouth all the more tempting.

  “Are you sure this is the way you want to end it?” he asked.

  “No. This is.” She replied by brushing her lips across his. When his lips pressed against hers she felt the last of her defenses melt. He moved his lips down from her mouth to over her throat to trace his tongue where her neck and shoulder met. Lust was rising so fast and so hard in her she struggled to breathe. And then he touched her thigh, squeezed it hard as he traced his tongue back up her throat. Heat spread through her pelvis and sent tingles through her core. She rubbed her thighs together but the friction only made it worse. Deja touched his face and he brought his mouth back up to hers. She swept her tongue deeply into his mouth with the swirl and chase they lived for.

  It was Jon who ended their passion before it began. And she was surprised by his actions. “I guess we’re more than friends now.” He stated rather than asked.

  She blinked at him, stunned by the truth. Earlier when they had fought she had said she didn’t randomly kiss men. A kiss had meaning. There was plenty to understand and own within that kiss. “We’re family, remember? My sister, your brother?”

  “Mmm?” he brushed his finger over her cheek.

  “Is this the only reason you brought me out here at sea, alone?” she asked. “For another kiss?”

  “Part of my reason,” Jon replied.

  “And the other part?” she asked.

  “I told you. I want to know you. Why does that surprise you?” he asked.

  She held her tongue. If he wanted to know her he could have made a move in the past two years. But why debate semantics. He was asking now, and here and now was all that mattered. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “How old are you, Deja?” he asked.

  “Thirty-six.”

  His brows lifted. “I’m surprised. You look younger, but act much older.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, I think. How old are you?”

  “Forty-two.”

  Now it was her turn to look shocked. She’d guessed him to be the same age as her. “Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed. You look much older and act much younger,” she teased.

  He tickled her and she laughed, pushing him off her. The boat bobbed left and right hard and fast.

  “Gee, thanks, I think,” he said, chuckling.

  They settled into a comfortable silence again. Deja looked up at the stars in the sky. There were so many. Some shone brighter than others.

  “What does one learn in an African-American studies class?” Jon asked her.

  “About African-Americans,” she joked.

  “Seriously, Professor. Teach me something,” he said, looking at her. She glanced over and saw he was earnest.

  “Hmm...well, typically when students sign up for my class they do so for a required elective. Many come in expecting to hear some boring lecture about ‘the great achievement of black folks in America,’” she said, using air quotes.

  “And that’s not what you teach?” Jon pressed.

  “No. I like to have dialogue. For instance,” she turned a bit and looked into his eyes. “Did you know that studies say black women who are over the age of thirty-five, single with no kids, are least likely to ever marry?” she asked.

  “Bullshit!” he chuckled.

  “I’m serious, Jon. Let me ask you this, how many women over the age of thirty-five do you date?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Okay, that few, huh?”

  He smiled.

  “If you chose to date a woman over thirty-five what are the odds that she would be black?”

  “Very high,” he said. He gave her a sideways glance.

  Deja chuckled. “How many women out of the over thirty-five group that you don’t date are black?” she asked. “Generalizations about African-American women and their likelihood to marry or have kids out of wedlock have evolved over the years. At one time we were considered the greatest mothers and caregivers. Called upon to take care of wealthy people’s children, even nurse them. Now we’re the least desirable and last chosen for a mate? The class that I teach examines these studies and we separate fact from fiction.”

  “For the record I believe that’s bullshit. The older men get, the younger they want to date. It’s an ego thing, baby,” he smiled. “Not the color of your skin.”

  “I know. My job is to make sure you do, too.” She winked.

  “Smart and beautiful. A deadly combination,” he said.

  “You like them dumb and blonde instead?” she teased.

  “Just dumb,” he said.

  Deja shook her head. “What else is there to know about me? I teach, I’m single, I—”

  “You have a strawberry tattoo. What’s that about?” he asked.

  “Enough of Q&A. Can we go please?” she laughed.

  “Okay, but one last question.”

  Deja threw her hands up. “I got the tattoo from an ex-boyfriend when I was in college. He was an artist, a tattooist. Okay?”

  He laughed. “No. I wanted to know if you’d like to drive, take us in?”

  “Me?” she asked.

  “Hell yeah, why not.” He eased out of the seat and climbed on the top of the back of the speedboat so she could slide over. She did so with ease. He pushed himself down into her now-vacant seat. “Okay. Press that button with your foot on the brake. Like starting a car.”

  She did as he instructed and the engine turned over. She grinned from behind the wheel. They bobbed against the rolling waves but didn’t surge forward. Not yet.

  “Think of it like a car. Steering, gas, all of it real simple. We’re going to take a different route.” He punched in the coordinates.

  “Where’s your brother’s boat?” she asked.

  “Ahead of us, I’m sure. They stopped to watch the sunset. But to make sure you don’t come up on them too fast we’ll go this way. Besides there are some reefs we can’t see nearer to the shore. Hit one of them and it can split this baby like a banana.”

  “Is it safe? For me to drive?” she asked.

  “Trust me.”

  “Okay. Okay!” she said, and steadied her grip on the steering wheel.

  “Now on the count of three—”

  “Three!” She yelled. She floored it. Jon was forced back against his seat. The speedboat glided over the waves. She managed quite nicely for twenty minutes into the ride. He had reclined and let the trip relax him. But after a long moment of bobbing over the sea his eyes opened.

  “Slow down, sweetheart, you’re picking up speed,” he said.

  “This is fun!” she squealed and turned the wheel so they cut east and then zipped out across the ocean going a full seventy miles an hour and climbing. She swerved west. Where was his shy, scholarly professor, he wondered? He began to appreciate her bold confidence.

  “Hold on!” She sped straight ahead. He glanced down to the navigation panel and saw it blinking. He frowned. They were off course. The GPS indicated they were headed away from the private island, not toward it.

  “Shit!” he said, trying to gauge their coordinates. He glanced up and saw the coastline of the island ahead. Jon frowned. Where where they?

  “Deja! Slow down! Slow down, sweetheart!” he grabbed the wheel to steer her away from the unseen reefs. The blanket of night shielded them.

  “Okay! I am slowing down,” she said “I got it. Let go of the wheel!”

  Control for either of them came too late. The boat hit something. He wasn’t sure what because the next thing he knew they were airborne. He was thrown bodily out of the boat and crashed hard into the tepid
waters of the sea. The impact nearly ripped his head from his shoulders. The pain was instant. He took seawater into his mouth and nostrils. The dark undercurrent roped his ankles and threatened to drag him into the abyss. Or so he thought when he panicked. Jon fought to swim to the surface. In a matter of minutes he breached the top. Jon coughed. He gagged. He could smell the engine oil in the ocean and see parts of the wreckage aflame around him.

  “Deja!” he croaked.

  Could she still be under? God help him, where could she be? “No! No! No! Deja!” he yelled. He turned in the water. Arms extended and legs kicking he kept afloat as rolling waves washed over him several times. He spit out water and tried to calm his panic. “Deja! Sweetheart! Where are you! Where are you!”

  “Jon!” he heard a soft voice cry out from behind him. “Jon!”

  He turned and tried to see over the waves. And thanks to the moon he saw her hand wave up from out of the sea. “Oh, God! Thank God!” he nearly wept. He swam to her. He tried hard but the push of the ocean current steered him away from a straight swim. Three minutes in this struggle she swam up to him. She grinned so bright his heart nearly ceased to beat.

  “Are you okay?” she rushed out in a breath.

  “Me! Thank God you’re all right!” He grabbed her up to him and they sank into the sea. They had to release each other to swim back up to the current. He turned and looked around. “The reef. We’re close to the shore. Are you hurt?” he gasped.

  “No!” she panted. “I’m just scared. I ache a little in the back. But I’m okay.”

  “Good. Scared is good,” he smiled. “Let’s go.”

  “But we can’t see,” she reasoned.

  “We’re close. We hit the reef. Swim away from the wreckage and we’ll see the beach soon.” He looked up to the sky and the moon. The stars twinkled. He was talking bullshit. He had no idea where they were. But his instinct said that they’d find the shore. So they swam and they did it together.

  Chapter 3

  Shipwrecked

  Deja crawled across the sand. She gasped and choked on the salty water that had filled her throat. She had immediately puked into the sand. She had lost her sarong. Her hair was wet and loose, plastered to her head. After a minute braced by quivering arms she dropped exhausted in her bikini on the sand. But even in exhaustion she had to look for him. Jon was on his knees. He had his head down as if praying. His shirt was off and all he wore was his long shorts.

  “Hey? You okay?” Deja wheezed and pushed herself up from the sand with her hands. She was able to turn and sit upright. It was as if the moon had grown brighter during their swim, led them straight to the shore. And because of its ethereal glow the beach was illuminated enough to give them some idea of where they were.

  Jon managed to rise. He staggered toward her. He dropped on the sand next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You could’ve been killed. Damn it. What was I thinking?”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “What the hell happened out there? We were coasting and the next thing I know you went crazy!” Jon said.

  She swallowed her sheepish smile. “I got carried away. But we’re okay,” Deja said. “In fact I feel invigorated.”

  He frowned and looked at her as if she had two heads. She chuckled. She waved off his questioning stare. “What I mean is I haven’t swam like that since I was ten years old. Didn’t know I still had it in me. Guess my momma could be thanked for that. And trust me, I don’t thank her often.”

  Jon groaned. He looked around the beach. She cast her gaze left and then right. There was nothing but sand and, in the distance, a clump of trees.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “One of the islands. I’m not sure. I was trying to figure it out when we got close to the reefs.”

  “How did you know we were close to the reefs?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Out there, before the accident you shouted at me to stop. How did you know? Did you recognize the area?”

  “The GPS showed we were in a red zone.”

  She nodded. They sat on the shore trying to catch their breaths. And then she saw it. Something bobbed in the water close to the shore. “Look! Maybe the satellite phone or the radio or something?” she said. She got to her feet, dusted the sand off her hands and butt, and walked out to the shore.

  * * *

  Jon watched her. He had taken his boat sailing the last time he was out but it was only to circle Abaco and the other side of the island. He didn’t remember reprogramming it. Were they back where they started? The reefs less than a mile from the shore indicated they could be. Maybe he should tell her? He looked back to the trees and then to her.

  She was so beautiful under the moonlight. The white bikini she wore was a red-blooded man’s dream. And she didn’t seem scared or hurt. In fact she appeared more alive and adventurous than he’d ever known her to be. Hell, an elevator had her jumping into his arms for rescue. But a boat crash had her grinning and bouncing with energy. Jon wiped his hand down his face and smiled. This was the kind of woman he needed.

  She dragged the cooler in from the ocean. He watched. She dropped to her knees and opened it.

  “We have a first-aid kit! And some beer! What else do we need?” She laughed.

  He pushed up from the sand and walked over to her. The driftwood was now floating on the surface waves. His baby was destroyed. When the sun rose he’d see the rest of it off the reefs. She smiled up at him. “If we had a tent or raft it would be perfect.”

  “Let’s get off the beach,” he said. He dropped next to her and picked up the little case that had the survival kit inside. He found a small flashlight. He turned it on.

  “But we don’t know where we are? What’s in those woods? I think we should stay here until sunrise. Somebody will be looking for us.”

  “They will think we either went back to our rooms or a private destination. The sun just went down. I guarantee that the temperature will plummet.” Jon glanced back to the woods. Something looked familiar. “C’mon,” he said taking one handle of the cooler and the first-aid kit.

  Deja lifted the other and they trekked up the sand. She used the flashlight to guide them and soon they walked through the trees and found a worn-over path. Ten minutes into the walk they stumbled upon a clearing. Deja lowered her end of the cooler and Jon did the same.

  “Does someone live here?” she asked.

  “Give me the flashlight,” he whispered. She handed it over. “Stay here. Don’t come out of the bush unless I call for you.”

  She nodded her agreement. Jon shone the light on what looked to be an empty cottage. The beam landed on the screen door and he switched to the black windows. He could see nothing more. When he reached the door he looked over to the left. He turned the flashlight to the sign that had been covered by vegetation. It read Blue Ridge.

  Jon smiled. “I can’t believe it, we’re back in Abaco.”

  Behind the Oasis were several private bungalows. There used to be a cluster of them that they called Blue Ridge. Cliff had mentioned that they stopped renting them and had plans to do some renovations.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, chuckling to himself. The place was completely safe and just a quarter of a mile from the resort.

  “Jon!” Deja called out.

  “Come out! It’s okay.”

  She emerged from the trees and looked at him and the cottage curiously. “What is it?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth. He had the intention of telling her the truth. But seeing her in the bikini under the moonlight, it hit him. If he ended the night and took them back to the resort the chance to keep her close and get to know her would be gone. She walked toward him and he struggled with what to do or say next.

  “Do you know this place?” she asked
.

  “Ah, yeah, sort of. It’s uh, it’s close to Abaco, uh, the island, I mean. We’re safe. In the morning they will find us easy. We can camp out here tonight.”

  “Really? Are you sure? It looks a little creepy.” She stepped back and looked at the dark windows. Jon turned the flashlight beam on the place. The island was safe and relatively crime-free.

  “Let me check for the lady,” he said.

  * * *

  Deja watched as he disappeared inside. The cottage was raised at least four feet off the ground by cinder blocks. It looked old and abandoned. She had to reconsider her adventurous attitude. The more they walked in the forest the less appealing being stranded on an island was to her.

  “We’re good!” he said.

  She yelped and whirled, nearly tripping over her own feet. Jon grinned from behind her.

  “How the hell did you get around me?” she asked.

  “I went straight through to the back door. Circled around to make sure it was safe. We’re good.” He gave her a curt bow of his head.

  She laughed. She hit his arm playfully.

  “Here, go inside,” he said passing her the flashlight. “I’ll bring in the beer.”

  She nodded and did as he said. The cottage was darker than the night outside when she entered. She could barely see in front of her. She heard him when he joined her. “How did you find the back door? I can’t see anything,” she said.

  “You’re holding the flashlight.” He reminded her.

  She chuckled. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

  She turned the bright slender beam on him. He put up his hand to guard his eyes. “Shine it over there,” he pointed.

  Deja did as he asked. To her delight there were two gas lanterns. He walked up behind her and eased his arm around her waist. She was crushed to his chest. He kissed the back of her head and she loved the intimacy. “We have a lighter in the kit, don’t we?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” she said, smiling.

  He let her go and immediately she missed his comfort. She turned the beam on him to aid in his search. He found what he was looking for and then went to the lanterns and lit each of them. For them to still have gas inside meant this place couldn’t have been abandoned for long. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind once the entire room flooded with light.